“Yes,” she said, her nightgown twirling about her legs as he led her around, closer to the park fence, further from the house—a place so dark it grew difficult to see.
“You gasped.”
“Did I?” She hadn’t realized.
His movements slowed. “Tell me how you feel.”
“I can’t.” She could barely speak now, they were standing so still, their bodies gently swaying to a silent tune.
A slight, almost imperceptible press of his hand against her back—that was all it took to bring her up against him. She tried to breathe normally, but it was almost impossible. All she could do was feel the hard planes of his chest rising and falling against her own, the steady beat of his heart against her breast. He was all solid strength and raw power, the perfect complement to her softer feminine curves.
“God help me,” he murmured. “I cannot seem to resist you.”
His honesty broke its way through her, instilling a sense of beauty she’d never experienced before. Her mouth went dry and her limbs went weak and all she could do was cling to him as he moved his hands, holding her more securely about her waist—holding her closer—so close that their thighs touched. Heavens, it felt delicious.
His breaths began coming deeper, vibrating through her until she burned with a need for more. This wasn’t enough.
“Shh . . .” he whispered. “Easy now.”
“I feel . . .” The answer to his question. “Wanted.”
“And so you are.” Reaching up, he drew his fingers along the edge of her cheek, tenderly caressing. “Gabriella, I’d like to kiss you now. If I may?”
She nodded once. That was all it took. His lips were on hers before she could blink, gently pressing, moving, exploring, while his hands . . . they roamed lower, his fingers spreading across her bottom to provoke the most wanton sensations she’d ever felt. Lord, the man was wicked in his seduction, and she was savoring every moment of it, reveling in his desire for her—the strange girl who, until recently, had only been able to lure suitors with the help of her dowry.
“Open your mouth,” he instructed in low sensual tones that whispered across her lips.
She did, and he took advantage, deepening the kiss, exploring and guiding until she matched his every move with a desperation unlike any she’d ever known before. It was as if he’d taken her out of a quiet pond and tossed her into a stormy ocean. Her senses were drowning—overwhelmed by the experience—but she was learning how to swim. And for the first time in her life, Gabriella knew what it meant to be truly alive. No going back now. It was much too late for that.
Except he was now drawing back, ending the kiss and stepping out of her arms. “You need to leave.”
“What?” She felt bewildered—abandoned—and really, really cold now.
“This wasn’t meant to happen. I’ve overstepped—demanded too much of you too soon. I just . . .” He pushed his fingers through his hair and then said, “You’re a bloody dream come true, Gabriella. I couldn’t stop myself, but if we don’t end this now there’ll be no stopping at all. Do you understand?”
She shook her head, too confused to absorb what he was saying. Except the part about her being a dream. She rather liked that.
He muttered an oath. “When a man wants a woman the way I want you, he’ll do whatever he can to have her. Which means . . .” He was gritting his teeth. “If you don’t run from me right now, I’ll have that transparent nightgown of yours up around your waist in a trice while I—”
“I understand,” she said already backing away. She pulled her robe around her, cheeks heating from what he’d just said. Had he really seen . . . oh God, how mortifying that was.
“Good night, Gabriella,” he told her hoarsely.
“Good night.” A swift response before she bolted, running as fast as she could away from the man she wanted. Just not like this—not how he’d described. They both deserved better than that, and it was apparently up to her to save them.
Chapter 17
When Gabriella came to call the following day, she was wearing a lavender-colored gown that revealed a delicious amount of skin, not that it mattered much to Raphe. She could have been wearing a high-necked gown with long sleeves and he still would have been able to recall what she’d looked like last night. His stomach tightened. Dressed in no more than a thin nightgown and a robe that had slipped out of place more than once, he’d been offered a stunning view of her body.
“Good afternoon,” she was now saying, addressing Raphe’s sisters before allowing a brief glance in his direction. A flush of pink rose to her cheeks as their eyes met. “Your Grace.”
With her hair pinned back in a loose coiffure that allowed stray locks to curl against the sides of her face, she looked more lovely than Raphe had ever seen her—as though she’d just tumbled out of bed, dressed with haste and hurried on over. Eager to see him, perhaps? He could only hope.
Unable to resist, he crossed the room to bow before her. “Lady Gabriella. Always a pleasure.” He then offered her his arm—a superfluous gesture, considering the short distance she needed to travel—but one that would ensure a touch of intimacy between them.
A brief hesitation brought her gloved hand to rest upon his arm, the delicate touch causing his muscles to strain beneath the wool of his jacket. He glanced at her, aware of the charged energy between them, but unsure of how to deal with it since they were not alone. And although he’d spent a restless night with vivid imaginings of all the ways in which he’d like to claim her, he had no wish to cause her any embarrassment. So he chose to remain silent for now while discreetly caressing her wrist to remind her of his regard.
When they arrived at the sofa, he released her, allowing her to take her seat across from Amelia and Juliette. Tea was brought, along with a plate of madeleines, and the sisters took turns pouring, their expressions softening in response to the praise they received from Gabriella.
