“I don’t think so. Now, what will it be? Prison or America?”
“You’re detestable!”
“I’m sure I get that from you,” he shot back without remorse.
Their eyes held each other in an unwavering glare until she finally relented and gave a nod. “Fine. Have it your way. I never loved you, anyway.”
“That, madam, is quite apparent.” Still, he’d hoped she wouldn’t have driven the knife quite so deep, not so much for his own sake, but for Amelia and Juliette’s. Glancing in their direction, he couldn’t help but notice the wide-eyed looks of horror on their faces. They shouldn’t have been here to see this—he ought to have made certain of that. But he hadn’t been thinking clearly. “I’ll have a couple of footmen escort you to the docks. They’ll wait with you until the next ship sails.”
It was a grim parting, but once it had been taken care of and they had returned to the ballroom, where several gentlemen, including Coventry, were waiting to dance with his sisters, Raphe turned to Warwick. “I’m sorry you had to witness that. I cannot possibly thank you enough for your support.”
“Think nothing of it. I was more than happy to lend my help.” He looked to Gabriella for a moment before saying, “If you’ll forgive me, I would not want my daughter to have her for a mother-in-law.”
Gabriella’s mouth dropped open. “Papa!”
Raphe forced a smile. “Your father is right. I’m glad she’s gone.”
“I can’t imagine how difficult it must have been seeing her again.”
“Do you think we can talk about something else?” he asked, hoping to return to the happy state he’d been in earlier that evening. “If I recall, I was about to ask you a very important question before we were interrupted.”
“I, err—oh!” She gave her father a hasty look.
“I think I need a drink,” Warwick said with a wink before striding away and leaving the two of them alone in a corner.
Raphe gave Gabriella his full attention. The warmth in her eyes made his heart tremble. “I love you, Gabriella.” Nothing else mattered. “Please. Tell me you’ll marry me. Make me the happiest and most fortunate man in the world.”
A nod was her first response as she swiped at her cheeks with the back of her hands. “Yes,” she whispered, and then nodded again. “I would love nothing more than to be your wife.”
The moment she gave her consent, Raphe grabbed her by the hand and led her out of the ballroom at a rapid pace. “Where are we going?” she asked, her heart thrumming with the excitement of their engagement, his declaration of love, and the anticipation of what would come next.
“To seal our agreement,” he told her roughly as he ushered her through to the back of the house. Pulling her into the library with an urgency that made her slightly lightheaded, he shut the door behind them and drew her into his arms. “Thank God,” he murmured, his warm hands sliding along her back, hugging her to him as though she were precious, as though she mattered, as though he loved her with every fiber of his being.
“Raphe.” If only words could describe how she felt about him. But she knew they would never suffice. The only way was to show him. So she pushed her hands up into his hair and dragged his mouth to hers, kissing him as though she’d just crossed the desert and found her oasis, as though her world might fall apart if she stopped. And Lord, if he didn’t kiss her back, his arms tightly wound about her torso, crushing her to him with keen desperation.
She gasped for breath and he took advantage, deepening the kiss with a ravenous hunger that dared her to follow. And follow she did, heat surging through her veins, building and burning until she thought she might melt. Her limbs grew weak, her body started to ache. “Raphe,” she repeated, the plea for something more passing her lips on a rush of air.
He drew back slightly, kissing her cheek, her jawline, her neck . . . and then he drew back some more, his breath coming hard. “I wish we were already married.”
“Why?” she asked, the wanton within overruling the lady.
His chest, so strong and firm, rose and fell with labored movements. “Because then—” Flames burned in the depths of his eyes, heating Gabriella all the way to her soul. “I would take great pleasure in undressing you, laying you bare on that sofa over there, and worshiping your body until your thoughts were of me alone and the pleasure I long to give you.”
Her mouth went dry. She couldn’t speak. The only thing she could do was think, her mind rapidly seeking a way to make his salacious suggestion possible. Good lord. What was happening to her? He was stripping away her reservations without the slightest bit of protest on her part.
“But,” he continued, adding a bit more distance between them by taking a small step back, “your innocence is sacred. I will not take it before our wedding night.”
Gabriella drew a shuddering breath. As deflated as she suddenly felt, she knew he was right and was glad that one of them had the resolve to do the correct thing. “Thank you.”
He pushed a stray strand of hair away from her cheek and swept it behind her ear. “You should.” He grinned. “Resisting you right now is no easy feat, but I’d like our first time together to be special. Not some hasty tumble on a library sofa.”
“Three weeks seems like an eternity, though,” she couldn’t help herself from saying.
He nodded. “It does. But we’ll also be very busy during that time. For starters, there’s the fight tomorrow, and once that’s over I think we ought to arrange the reunion Victoria requested to have with your parents. We can go to Gloucester together and see how she and Ben have gotten themselves settled. After that, there’s no reason for us not to spend more time together just as we have been doing during our courtship.”
She appreciated his soothing tone—the way in which he tried to lessen her concerns by making light of everything. “I’ve really enjoyed our outings.”
It was true. They’d spoken at great length about a number of different subjects, laughed at jokes, teased each other, and taken pleasure in just being together.
