As Gabriel described the boyhood adventures he had with Harry, Callie came to understand the deep bond between the two men, both excluded from their family. They even talked about Gabriel’s war, and he told her a little of how it felt to be one of the few who came home…
And as they talked they became closer and closer, and she worried about how it would be when it came time to part. She thrust it from her mind. She was happy now, so she would live now and let the future take care of itself.
The days assumed a rhythm of their own: they rose late in the day after making love far into the night and again in the morning. They bathed, ate, and then walked around to Mount Street and Lady Gosforth’s house. They would stay there until evening. Callie would go upstairs to join the two boys and Tibby. Invariably Ethan and one or two of the other men—usually Harry—were there, too. Callie would spend the last part of the afternoon with them, then the two boys would eat their supper.
They read the boys an episode of a bedtime story—Callie was amused to see that Ethan was always present for the story—and then Callie would put Nicky to bed and kiss him good night, while Tibby did the same to Jim.
The two boys shared a room that opened onto two adjoining bedchambers. Ethan slept in one and Harry in the other. Nicky was well protected at all times; Gabriel had seen to that.
Once her son was asleep, she would come downstairs and they would all dine together. Then Tibby and Ethan would return upstairs, Lady Gosforth would prevail on whichever of the young men was present to escort her to some social engagement, and Callie and Gabriel would walk back around the corner to Alverleigh House and make love.
Callie passed through the following days in a happy daze, until suddenly it was Tuesday night, the night of Lady Gosforth’s small party to celebrate their wedding.
Callie dressed with care, choosing her favorite of the new evening dresses, a short-sleeved emerald satin underdress, trimmed around the hem with a border of lace, and topped with a long robe of gossamer net, trimmed with matching lace, silver satin knots, and scarlet beading. With it she wore a dainty pair of scarlet Turkish slippers, a buff-colored Grecian scarf with scarlet embroidery and tassels, long, white lace gloves, and her mother’s tiara.
“How do I look?” she asked Gabriel when he came to escort her downstairs.
“Beautiful as always,” he said.
Her brow puckered slightly. She didn’t want any more gallant compliments from him. “I know I’m not beautiful,” she said. “I don’t need extravagant compliments, Gabriel. I’d be happy if you just said I look nice.”
“So you want me to lie.”
“No, just to tell me the truth.”
“I am telling you the truth.” He cupped her jaw in his hand and said quietly, “To me you are as beautiful as the moon. Your skin is like silk, your eyes are the most glorious color, and you have the most luscious mouth in the world.”
She blinked. The most luscious mouth? Could he really think that? She could not help but smile. “Oh.”
“Yes, oh. So don’t tell me what I think, my beautiful wife.” He leaned forward then stopped, saying, “I won’t kiss you now, because if I start I won’t be able to stop, and we have to get to that party.”
He took a velvet oblong box from his pocket. “I thought you might wear your mother’s tiara, so I got you these to go with it.” He passed her the case.
She opened it and said nothing for a long moment. She was stunned. “Diamonds. But—”
“Yes, I know they should be paste, to match,” he said, his eyes dancing. He lifted the necklace from the box and turned her to fasten the necklace. “But I didn’t have time. Now, let’s have a look.” He turned her toward the looking glass. “Perfect.”
She stared at her reflection. Diamonds? It was the sort of gift a man gave his wife. His true, until-death-us-do-part wife. “It’s beautiful,” she whispered.
“Like its owner. Now don’t sell these ones, all right?”
“No, I wouldnever—” she began, horrified, and then saw he was teasing. “Thank you, Gabriel. I will treasure it always.” She stood on tiptoe and kissed him.
He wrapped his arm around her and kissed her back, a deep, possessive kiss that made her want to melt.
“Now, come on,” he said after a while. “The sooner this wretched party is over—and we can go to bed—the better.”
“Is that a promise?”
“A vow.”
Then that’s when she would tell him, Callie decided. For the last two days she’d tried to decide whether to tell him how she felt or not. Gabriel had made her feel things she’d never felt before. He understood her, he cared for her, she was sure.
But how much? That was the question. She had to know, to try, at least. Nothing ventured, nothing gained.
Tonight after the party, when they made love, she would tell him.
Seventeen
