Mrs. Yarwood looked more resigned than surprised. Adam imagined the modiste had had more than one argument with this particular customer. As he was discovering, Gabby’s sweet nature hid a backbone of polished steel. That strength had enabled her to endure countless hurts while keeping that pretty smile on her face. It could also work to her detriment…the present situation being a case in point.
“For my gown, however, I’d like the neckline raised,” Gabby went on.
She was examining the style she’d chosen, her brow furrowed in concentration. As if she were imagining herself in that sack-like garment. Adam could have spared her the trouble and told her what she would look like: a giant iced cake.
His wife’s attempts to hide her charms were a damned travesty.
“And my dress should have more embellishment. More ruffles and whatnot.” Gabby’s face lit up. “Indeed, I recently saw a fashion plate that featured acapeas part of the gown. Perhaps you could attach one to the shoulders, have it flow down and cover the entire back…”
Seeing Mrs. Yarwood visibly cringe, Adam decided it was time to step in.
“I think we’re headed in the wrong direction with this,” he said.
Gabby blinked at him. “Wrong direction? How do you mean?”
“Less is more,” he said succinctly.
Mrs. Yarwood was looking at him as if he’d walked across water to arrive at her shop. “Your husband has an excellent point, Mrs. Garrity. The latest fashions are cut more closely to the figure—”
“I don’t care about the latest fashions. I know what I like,” Gabby said stubbornly.
“If I may have a private moment with my wife?”
“Have all the time you want, sir,” the modiste said fervently.
He thought he heard her utter a prayer as she fled the dressing room, her assistant on her heels.
“As much as I value your opinion, I know what I want,” Gabby said the instant the door closed.
“I’m certain you do. But that doesn’t mean you know what looks best on you.”
She narrowed her eyes. With her rounded cheeks, golden freckles, and lush mouth, she looked like an adorable yet annoyed faerie. On a deeper level, he was heartened by her increasing willingness to speak her mind in front of him. He loved her growing confidence and wanted to encourage it…even if he had to rouse her ire in the process.
Admittedly, there were other reasons why he liked his wife riled up. Her irritation was causing her breasts to heave in a most delightful way.
“Who has more experience shopping for dresses, you or me?” she asked.
“Who spends more time looking at you, you or me?” he returned.
Her cheeks turned rosy, but she raised her chin to a mutinous angle. “If you must know, dress shopping is one of my least favorite activities. It’s ever so tedious, and you’re not helping by prolonging the experience. It has taken me years to find a style that I’m comfortable with, one that suits me—”
“Your clothes don’t suit you.”
Her jaw slackened. He didn’t like to be the cause of the pain flashing across her features, but being direct was the best way to make her understand.
“Gabriella, you are beautiful no matter what you wear,” he said. “But the way you hide your gorgeous body in dowdy dresses is a damned crime.”
“You think I’mdowdy?” Her poise wilted, her gaze lowering.
Hell, her vulnerability destroyed him.
He closed the distance between them. “Sweetheart, you’re the most desirable woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.”
To prove his point, he caught her hand and brought it to his groin, holding it there. Her eyes lifted, her fingers trembling against the ridge of his erection; beneath his thumb, the pulse in her wrist quickened, making him even harder.
“I want you all the bloody time,” he murmured. “Over breakfast, at my office, anywhere I happen to be, I think of fucking you. The moment when I’ll next taste your sweet lips, feel your tight quim clenching my cock, hear those delightfully breathy sounds you make when you come. There isn’t a minute that passes when I don’t thank my lucky stars that you’re mine.”
Her lips formed a lush “O,” her gaze darkened not with pain now but feminine desire.
