Behind her shyness and inhibitions lay a hot little wanton, praise God.
As he told her, he wanted more than her body. The ride over had answered some of his questions about the intricate—and sometimes convoluted—workings of Gabby’s mind. It was her insecurities, not lack of interest, that had led her to shy away from his initial advances. He didn’t know the root of these anxieties that blinded her to her own worth, but he meant to find out what they were this week and eradicate them for good.
One of the most frustrating aspects of his amnesia was not knowing why he hadn’t tried harder to build up his wife’s self-confidence in the past. Why he’d let walls stand between them. Since Gabby seemed to idealize who he was before, not even recognizing that he’d failed her, these were questions that no one but his forgotten self could answer.
I knew that you were the husband I always dreamed of. That you would be my everything.
Her words had tapped into a vein of consciousness deeper than memory. In it flowed his soul’s secret yearning: to own a woman’s complete surrender. To have her entrust her body, her loyalty, and her love to him. To have her yield control to him, to trust him, to know that he would do everything in his power to protect and cherish her.
He didn’t want this with just any woman—he wanted this from Gabriella.
His wife.
Just thinking those words roused a swell of possessiveness. And a physical swell too, which wouldn’t do since Thompson and the guards that had accompanied them stood nearby. A line of servants was also waiting on the steps of the Tudor-style manor house.
Adam bridled his desire; he had the next five days to convince his bride that her price was beyond rubies and that she belonged to him. Unwilling to relinquish the pleasure of her touch, he tucked her hand into the crook of his arm and led her over to the entrance of the lodge.
“Do we have an army of servants at all our properties?” he murmured.
“You haven’t seen the country house in Berkshire.” Her smile had a hint of mischief. “When it comes to hiring help, your motto is,The more the merrier.”
Shaking his head at his extravagance, he went to meet the legion for whom he was apparently providing gainful employment. The well-trained staff didn’t blink an eye when he had to ask for their names. Beside him, Gabby greeted everyone with her natural warmth, eliciting genuine smiles in return.
After the introductions were done, Gabby gave him a tour of the place. The manor was medium-sized and renovated to serve its purpose of masculine enjoyment. The public rooms included a billiards room, library, and a sparring room to practice boxing. A theme of rich oak paneling, buttoned-leather furnishings, and trophies of the hunt lent the rooms a rustic yet elegant ambiance.
In her bubbly, enchanting way, Gabby told him the history of the house.
“The manor was owned by an aristocratic family for centuries. By the time the last owner inherited it, the place was in such disrepair that he decided to put it up for sale. He wanted an exorbitant sum, claiming that a king had stayed here because the hunting was so fine. But you were ever so clever and told him that it would take the ransoms ofseveralkings to pay for the repairs,” Gabby said with such wifely pride that he had to grin. “You negotiated ten thousand pounds off the asking price.”
“And spent it on the restoration, no doubt.” He cast an admiring glance around the present room, a richly outfitted study. Whatever he’d spent, it had been worth it. The space was luxurious and inviting…just like the house in London. And he remembered what she’d said earlier in the carriage. “You oversaw the decoration of the manor?”
“In consultation with the architect, of course,” she said diffidently. “You had business matters to attend to, and I was happy to pitch in where I could.”
“You did a splendid job.”
She gave a modest shrug. “I relied on the architect’s judgement.”
“And the London house? Did you have a hand in that too?” He knew the answer: their home’s comfortable, warm style was quintessential Gabriella. But he wanted to hear it from her.
“Well, yes, but I asked for your opinion quite a bit. You have a refined sensibility when it comes to such matters, and I wanted to—”
“Gabriella.”
He used the firm tone that had gotten her attention earlier in the carriage. She blinked, comprehension flaring in her eyes. Along with chagrin.
She pressed her hands to her cheeks. “I’m doing it again, aren’t I?”
If the matter hadn’t been so vital to her well-being, he might have smiled at how endearingly flustered she looked. Instead, he nodded.
“Truly, I hadn’t noticed how I discounted compliments before.” She sounded befuddled. “What an ungracious habit. I’m ever so sorry.”
“I’m not the one who is owed an apology.”
Her brow furrowed. “You mean to say...”
“You do not give yourself credit where credit is due. Who does that hurt, if not you?”
“I’ve never thought of it that way.” Biting her lip, she said, “I don’t know how I got into the habit of it, but I shall do my best to stop.”
