Her eyes filled with tears and she dashed them away. “I’m sorry; I don’t know what the matter is with me. I felt—I feel wonderful and cherished, I really do.”
She felt wonderful and cherished, Gabe thought bleakly. That’s why she looked so miserable.
What was a man supposed to do with that?
How could he teach her to want him the way he wanted her?
“Come back to bed and let me cherish you some more,” he said hoarsely. He had no idea what to do, other than to love her. All he could think of was that he needed to wipe that desolate look off her face. If he could make her body sing with passion, and keep it singing, then maybe…
He kissed her, and she kissed him back. It was a start, he told himself. She kissed as if she meant it.
He carried her back to bed and made love to her for the third time, very slowly and thoroughly, cherishing her with every fiber of his body and soul. She returned kiss for kiss, and caress for tender caress with a kind of desperate earnestness that almost broke his heart.
She was trying too hard. He knew what that meant.
Their eyes locked as he brought her to a slow, intense climax, the pressure building relentlessly until she thrashed and shuddered and collapsed bonelessly against him as he shattered also and drowned in her eyes.
She fell asleep with her cheek against the bare skin of his chest, cradled against his heart. He held her to him, unwilling to let her go, even for a moment.
He was going to lose her. He could see it in her eyes.
Oh God, what was he going to do?
Gabe awoke much later to find the day well advanced.
It was still wet and gray and chilly.
She slept curled like a cat against him, her lashes long and dark and silky against her satin-pale skin. He watched her sleeping, her mouth fallen a little open, her breathing deep and regular.
He leaned over and kissed her lightly, and though she stirred a little she didn’t wake. He nuzzled the hollow between her jaw and her shoulder and inhaled deeply. If he lived to be a hundred, he’d never forget the scent of her.
He slipped out of bed and, naked, padded across the thick carpets to the fire, which was almost out. He fed it with chips of wood and then coal until it was blazing again.
He turned to return to bed and found her sitting up on one elbow, watching him. He crossed the room, feeling a little self-conscious with her eyes on him. She inspected him with frank interest, a small smile—he hoped of appreciation—playing about her lips.
He slipped back into bed with her and kissed her.
“Good morning,” she murmured and reached for him again. Her palm curled possessively around his hardened flesh, and the most adorable mouth in the world curved as she registered the evidence of his desire.
“Good morning indeed,” he murmured, feeling a surge of new hope. “And it’s about to get even better…”
Afterward he rang the bell and ordered hot water for himself and her, which she amended to a bath. He ordered breakfast to follow.
Then, with a self-consciousness that amused him, she excused herself to take her bath in her dressing room and sent him off to his, to dress and shave.
For a moment, Gabe considered the possibility of assisting her with her bath, but decided against it. Despite her years of marriage, she wasn’t used to sensual delights, and he didn’t want to throw his entire battery at her at once. It was going to be a long, slow siege. He could wait another day, he thought. Perhaps tomorrow.
Callie sat in the bath, soaping herself and thinking about the extraordinary few moments of utter despair she’d experienced in the middle of the night. Strange that it had occurred just hours after she’d experienced the most intense moment of bliss in her life.
Not really strange, she realized. The bliss had caused the despair. Last night in Gabriel’s arms, he’d shown her what she’d missed all her married life, and worse—showed her what she could have if this wretched marriage was real instead of merely legal.
She hadn’t been able to talk to him about it then—not when she was feeling so raw and vulnerable. All her defenses…he’d destroyed them making love to her as he had. She hadn’t known it was possible to feel like that.
She wanted her marriage to be real, wanted to have this man for herself and love him with everything she had in her.
He was everything she’d ever dreamed of: kind and strong and loving, a man to be cherished and loved, not used and discarded. She wanted him forever, not just for a day or a week or a month.
But no matter how she looked at it, she couldn’t see how it could work. A marriage was more than just feelings, it was a living, day-to-day partnership. His life was here. Hers, eventually, as soon as Count Anton was dealt with, had to be back in Zindaria.
