“Whatever was asked of her,” he said coolly. “Given that she was a toothless old trull, I’m sure most of it involved scrubbing chamber pots and the like. When she died in the fire, she still owed me five years. She got off too easily.”
Her husband’s mercilessness ought to have shocked her. But it didn’t. She’d gone into the marriage with her eyes wide open when it came to his origins and profession, the nature of the man she’d married.
An eye for an eye—that was who Adam Garrity was.
He was as fierce in his loyalty to his friends as he was in his hostility to his enemies. Did she agree with his ruthless methods? No. Was she going to waste time feeling pity for Drusilla Wiley, a woman who’d enslaved and abused helpless children? Also, no.
In the end, Gabby understood that the world that had birthed her husband was a place where street-level justice and survival went hand in hand, and she accepted it…because she loved him.
In truth, there was only one thing she couldn’t accept.
“Have I finally succeeded in shocking you?” he inquired.
Despite his indifferent tone, she heard the underlying tension. Felt it in his body. His arms were steel bands around her, as if he feared she might try to leave him.
Tipping her head back, she looked into his dark, fathomless eyes.
“I know who you are,” she said quietly. “Nothing you’ve said changes my love for you.”
A shudder ran through him, his nostrils flaring. “My sweet wife—”
“You will always have my love. And my loyalty.” She returned his fierce gaze with one of her own. “As long as you don’t lie to me. I won’t tolerate you keeping any more secrets.”
His eyes smoldered with emotions she couldn’t name. But she felt their intensity in the way he was staring at her, as if he wanted to snatch her up and carry her away to his own private den and keep her there forever. Her own emotions pulsed dangerously close to the surface. Her skin tingled, as if it couldn’t hold in all that she was feeling. Energy swelled between them, around them, morphing with startling swiftness into physical need.
Her pussy clenched, already wet, already wanting.
“You’re my wife, Gabriella, the love of my life,” he said with a cool emphasis that made her fires burn hotter. “I willneverlet you go.”
Before she could catch her breath, he swept her up in his arms.
There’s more to tell her. Another secret she doesn’t know.
Adam shut out the voice as he carried his wife into the adjoining room. He knew he wasn’t fully in control of himself: between the sudden return of his memories and the baring of his past, he felt a volcano of emotion roiling within him. He wasn’t ready to tell Gabby about his plans for vengeance. Hell, he didn’t even know if they were still in play.
What he did know was that De Villier was onto him. That explained why De Villier was suddenly paying off some of the loans, loosening the noose that it’d taken Adamyearsto place around the other’s neck. The meeting at the ball hadn’t been a coincidence, either. Likely the bastard had been sizing him up, trying to discern what he wanted and why. Had De Villier figured out that Adam was the son he’d tried to murder all those years ago?
Christ, Adam wasn’t ready to face the possibility that a lifetime of working, planning, and strategizing had been laid to waste. During his amnesia, had he somehow tipped De Villier off? He’d been so bloody close to achieving his goal…
Maybe he could salvage his plan yet. He needed time to regroup. To evaluate the situation rationally, from all angles. After he ascertained where matters stood with his enemy, he would tell Gabriella what she needed to know. Right now, he, himself, didn’t know the state of affairs; he could hardly explain it to his wife.
Tomorrow, he’d assess the damage. In this moment, he had a different kind of fire to put out.
He found that it wasn’t difficult to push all thoughts of De Villier aside. To allow his burning need for Gabriella to eclipse all else. He’d bared himself to her in a way he’d never done with any one. He felt exposed—and he’d be damned if he was the only one who would feel that way.
He set his precious burden down by the peacock-blue mattress, untying and discarding her cloak. Her hands caught his.
“Here?” she whispered.
“You’re mine. Without limits, remember?” Deliberately, he added, “Perhaps I am in need of reassurance that this still holds true.”
He was taking advantage of her sweet nature, and he didn’t care. In acknowledging his love for her, he’d accepted the depth of his need for her. He could hear her say the words a million times, and it would never be enough. He’d always be greedy for what she gave him, what he’d never received from anyone else.
“I’m yours,” she whispered. “Always, Adam.”
Her devotion soothed the darkness in him. She was nothing like Jessabelle. She was incapable of betrayal and playing games; loving her wouldn’t end in pain. Not that he could stop loving her even if he tried. He’d been a fool to let his past come between them, to waste years of their marriage. He wouldn’t waste a single minute more.
“Then you’ll obey your sultan’s wishes and let him do with you as he pleases,” he said.
