"Inside," she said. "Now."
"Is that a yes to renegotiation?"
"That's a yes to getting out of this cold garden before we both freeze to death and never get to negotiate anything."
The house was quiet, the servants dismissed for the evening at Clara's insistence, though the knowing looks from Mary and Mrs. Potter suggested they understood exactly why privacy was required. Edmund had left with a wink and a promise to handle any social fallout from the morning's dramatics, and for the first time since Clara had arrived at Ashbourne, they were truly, completely alone.
"This is dangerous," Clara said, standing in Gabriel's bedroom, still fully dressed but intensely aware of the bed behind her.
"We're betrothed," Gabriel reminded her, locking the door with a decisive click. "This is expected."
"Expected and proper are different things."
"When have we ever been proper?"
"We've maintained one very important propriety."
"Which is becoming increasingly difficult to maintain."
He moved toward her slowly, giving her time to retreat if she wanted, but Clara stood her ground. When he reached her, his hands went to her hair, pulling out pins one by one until it tumbled around her shoulders.
“This action has been my firm desire for the past month, I assure you,” he admitted, running his fingers through the freed strands. "Every time you put it up so properly, all I could think about was taking it down."
"That's remarkably specific."
"I have remarkably specific fantasies where you're concerned."
"Should I be concerned about these fantasies?"
"Only if you object to being thoroughly worshipped."
His mouth found her throat, and Clara's knees went weak. "Gabriel…"
"Tell me to stop."
"We both know I'm not going to do that."
"Then tell me to continue."
"That seems redundant given that you're already…oh."
He'd found that spot below her ear that made rational thought impossible, and Clara's hands fisted in his shirt, torn between pulling him closer and pushing him away.
"We should talk about…"
"No talking. We've talked for weeks. We've talked around this, about this, despite this. No more talking."
"But…"
He kissed her properly then, deep and demanding, and Clara gave up any pretense of resistance. This was what they'd been denying themselves, this consuming need that had been building since the moment she'd arrived at his door.
When they finally broke apart, Gabriel's control was visibly fraying. "Clara, if you're going to stop this, do it now, because in about thirty seconds I'm not going to be capable of gentlemanly restraint."
"I'm not asking for gentlemanly restraint."
"What are you asking for?"
"You. All of you. Everything we've been denying ourselves in the name of propriety that never really mattered anyway."
