When she had her footing, he tipped his headdown, unable to resist a final look at her pretty face. His hands gripped her waist. He could smell her. The wind tussled her hair. Her smile went a little off. Her lips were turned up, but her eyes grew very bright. She blinked. She crinkled her nose.
“Sorry,” she whispered, lowering her eyes. When she looked up again, her eyelashes were wet. She was crying.
Gabriel frowned and tugged off his gloves. “What’s happened? Why are you crying?”
“May I ask you a different sort of question? Before I go?”
“Alright.” His heart was pounding.
“My letters,” she said. “Why did you keep them? All this time, from France to the school, from the fire to your camp?”
“Oh,” he said. It was the last thing he’d expected. He wasn’t sure how to answer. “Will you stop crying if I tell you?”
“I’m not crying.”
He smiled. He took a deep breath. “I cannot say why I kept them except... I wanted them? For one thing, I suppose I felt duty bound. Believe it or not, but I was quite invested in being a prince, once upon a time. And my father had compelled me to carry on like a member of the royal family, even in exile. I was too young to know how to embody that, except to remember my commitments. And the most outstanding commitment in my life was my betrothal to you.
“Secondly, I was fond of you, Lady Ryan.” He smiled, thinking of the boy he’d been. “We’d met twice, and on both occasions, I’d been impressed at hownot-awfulyou were. Even though you were a girl.And English. Our correspondence began, and your letters... in a way... delighted me.” He gave a shrug. “When the time came for me to escape the mobs, I simply grabbed them up. And I haven’t been able to let them go.”
Now she let out a little whimper and dropped her face into her hands.
“You’re still crying,” he observed.
“Because I will miss you,” she said simply, looking up. “And because our history has broken my heart. Ignore me. Please.”
“Don’t, Ryan. Please.”
“Will you kiss me once more, Gabriel?” she whispered.
“What?”
“I would not ask except... what could it possibly matter now, if we mean to say goodbye?”
“You’re killing me.”
“If we part ways, I needn’t worry about how I may seem, or how out-of-character I may behave, how bold or how brazen. It won’t matter, will it, after you’ve gone?”
“You cannot want this,” he whispered, his heart racing. He’d felt heavy and tired, revealing these truths to her. Now his body lurched to life.
She bit her lip. “Oh yes. Yes, I do want it.”
He should’ve challenged this; he should’ve asked her again if she was certain. He should’ve bowed over her hand, kissed her knuckles, and stalked to his horse.
Instead, he locked his mouth over hers with a force so strong, she tipped backward. He caught her with a hand between her shoulders and another behind herneck and leaned over her, holding her at a slant. True to her request, she didn’t pull away, she clung to his biceps, pinning herself to him and kissing him as if she would perish if she did not.
Gabriel showed no restraint. He kissed her until he had no breath. When, finally, he raised his head to gasp for air, Ryan scrambled forward, burying her face in his neck, nuzzling his beard, breathing him in.
Gabriel returned for more, pulling her upright and walking her backward. He hustled them beyond Fleur, beyond Anton, and backed her into a fat sycamore. He pressed her against the peeling bark and aligned his body against her, using the leverage of the tree to press against her, kissing her all the while. With one hand, he felt his way down her side and cupped her bottom, tilting her hips into his need. With the other, he gripped the back of her neck, raising her face up to him.
“Ryan,” he breathed, coming up again for air.
“I am here,” she whispered, gathering the lapel of his coat in greedy hands.
He glanced down. Her eyes were closed, her mouth parted, her face flushed. He’d never seen anything as beautiful. He had no idea how he’d managed the restraint not to make love to her last night. He wanted to hear her laugh, he wanted to bask in her attention, he wanted to earn her forgiveness, he wantedher.
“I’m sorry,” he said simply. She’d come here offering many of these things, possibly all of them, and he’d refused them.
She didn’t answer. She kissed him again. She kissed deeply and frantically, and he wondered if she felt thesame urgency he felt; the desperation and hunger? He was out of words for his desire. She was like a missing piece of himself he’d not known he’d been searching for his whole life.
