Bride for a Night

CHAPTER ELEVEN



AFTER RECOVERING FROM the considerable drop from her window, Talia had hastily searched for her belongings that Gabriel had left in the garden after being captured. It had taken only a few moments before she was sneaking through the darkness in search of the cellars.

Along the way she had dodged and darted past the various guards while inwardly preparing herself to accept that Gabriel might very well be in dire condition.

Who knew what Jacques might have done to him?

He could be chained to the walls. Or recovering from a brutal beating. Or maimed from some hideous torture.

Her imagination had conjured any number of terrible fates, but she had never once considered the possibility that he would be passing his time with a beautiful, near-naked woman wrapped in his arms. Worthless pig.

Coming to an awkward halt, she regarded her husband with a proud tilt of her chin.

“Forgive me,” she uttered through gritted teeth. “I had the most ridiculous notion that you might desire to be rescued.” Her gaze shifted to the woman at his side, not at all comforted by the realization that she was a good ten years her senior. What did it matter? The woman was the sort of sensual siren who would be tempting men until the day she died. “It did not occur that you might be occupied.”

The unknown woman ran a dark, scrutinizing gaze over Talia, a mysterious smile curving her lips.

“You must be the Countess of Ashcombe.”

“I am,” Talia admitted. “And you are?”

“Sophia Reynard.”

Even her name was temptingly exotic, Talia acknowledged, pettily wishing the woman at least possessed a wart to mar her perfection.

Having the decency to remove his arms from his lover, Gabriel stepped toward her with a forbidding frown.

“Talia, how the devil did you escape your rooms?”

“I crawled out the window.”

He sucked in a harsh breath. “Dammit, you could have broken you neck.”

Well, so much for gratitude. Unappreciative sod.

“You were the one urging me to leap from the window not three hours ago.”

“Yes, when I was there to catch you,” he growled, looking as if he could not quite believe her lack of intelligence.

She sniffed. “Obviously you were too busy to be of assistance, so I had little choice but to risk my neck.”

“What of the guards?” Sophia interrupted.

Talia returned her attention to Gabriel’s companion with a shrug.

“It was easy enough to slip past most of them.”

The female lifted her brows. “And the soldier at the door?”

Talia bit her lip at the stab of regret that pierced her heart.

“Yes, well, I do feel rather badly about poor Pierre,” she admitted. “He has been so kind to me.”


At her words both Gabriel and Sophia skirted past her. Talia turned to watch Gabriel fully yank open the door, while Sophia gazed down at the large soldier who lay crumpled on the ground.

“Sacré bleu,” she muttered. “Is he dead?”

Talia stiffened in outrage. “Certainly not. He will soon awaken.” She grimaced as she considered what awaited him. “Although I fear he might have a dreadfully thick head. I do hope his wife knows to brew him a tincture of lavender.”

“Christ.” Gabriel glanced back at Talia with an expression of disbelief. “I am not certain I could have floored the brute. How the hell did you do it?”

She reached into the folds of the dress that was wrapped around her belongings and pulled out the small, smoothly carved wooden cudgel.

“I am not proud of myself, but I pretended that I had something in my slipper and when he bent down to assist me I hit him with this.”

“What is it?” Sophia demanded.

“When I was younger I spent time with my father upon the docks. I was befriended by a Portuguese sailor who carved this for me and taught me the best means of striking a man.” Talia smiled at the memory of Santos, who’d been endlessly patient with a lonely girl in desperate need of affection. “My father always insisted that I carry it with me for protection.”

Gabriel studied the tiny weapon with an unreadable expression. “You had that hidden on your person at our wedding?”

“It was in my reticule.” She frowned at the strange question. “Why?”

He grimaced. “Good God.”

Without warning Sophia’s throaty chuckle filled the air. “Do you know, my lady, I was quite prepared to detest you, but I discover myself as helplessly enchanted as everyone else.” She turned her head to toss Gabriel a mocking glance. “I trust you to take her far away from France and do not allow her to return.”

“I—”

Talia’s angry retort was interrupted as Gabriel moved to take her arm.

“Can you distract the guards?” he asked of Sophia.

The older woman smiled. “Actually, I think I can do better than that.” She tugged the torch from the wall bracket and stepped through the door. “This way.”

With little choice, Talia allowed Gabriel to tug her from the room and down the low passageway.

No one spoke as they turned off the main pathway into a narrow tunnel that was filled with cobwebs and goodness knew what nasty creatures. Talia instinctively pressed closer to Gabriel, for the moment more afraid of the small furry rats scurrying around her feet than the one walking at her side.

After what seemed to be an eternity, Sophia led them out of the tunnel into an abandoned garden that was situated behind the kitchens. Pausing long enough to make certain there were no guards near, Sophia led them through the overgrown pathway, pushing open an ivy-covered gate and scurrying toward the nearby woods.

Shifting the bundle in her arms, Talia lifted her skirts to keep pace as they wove their way through the thick trees, only coming to a halt when they were well out of sight of the palace.

Sophia turned, shoving the torch into Gabriel’s hand. “I will leave you here.”

“You will say nothing of our conversation to anyone,” Gabriel commanded, sharing a glance with the older woman that spoke of mutual understanding and hidden meanings.

“I have no more desire than you to share our secrets.” With a glance toward the stewing Talia, Sophia leaned forward to place a lingering kiss on Gabriel’s cheek. “Bon voyage, my lord.”

With a last smug smile toward Talia, the aggravating witch slid smoothly into the shadows and disappeared. At the same moment Gabriel hurried Talia in the opposite direction, ignoring her protests as her skirts were shredded to tatters from the underbrush.

He continued the punishing pace for the next two hours, battling a path for them with sheer brute force. Talia might have been impressed with his prowess if she had not been plagued by the memory of Sophia.

Had the two of them just risen from the narrow cot when she’d entered the cellar, or had she intruded before they could become intimate?

And why did either option make her desire to blacken his eye?

She had known when they’d wed that Gabriel was bound to have dozens of mistresses. Fidelity was considered a puritanical concept among society, and nothing could be more bourgeoisie than to display affection for one’s own wife or husband.

Besides, Gabriel had made it clear when he’d visited her with that damnable marriage contract that, while he was capable of demanding her loyalty, he had no desire to promise his own.

Of course he was bound to fill his bed with one beautiful woman after another.

Unfortunately, logic did not ease her simmering anger, and when he at last paused to offer her a rest, she was in no humor for his stern disapproval.

“You look like a ragamuffin,” he growled, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket to scrub at the dirt marring her cheek.

“Perhaps you would have preferred to be running through the woods with the lovely Sophia? She would never dare look like a ragamuffin,” she snapped.

He scowled, but his fingers were gentle as he moved the handkerchief to a spot near her lips.

“I would prefer that you discontinue your habit of rushing headlong into danger.”

“Habit?” She glared into the predatory beauty of his face, unable to believe even Gabriel could hold her to blame for being kidnapped. “Have you taken leave of your senses?”

The silver eyes shimmered in the stray shaft of moonlight, the light breeze weaving through the thick trees to stir his golden hair. Perhaps it was their untamed surroundings or the danger of their situation, but the icily aloof Earl of Ashcombe had suddenly been replaced by a menacing stranger.

“Obviously I have or I would never have let you out of my sight after our wedding. A mistake I intend to correct from this moment on.”

She shivered at the husky threat. Not with fear, but with a wholly feminine reaction to his blatant claim of ownership.

Angered by her ridiculous response, she narrowed her gaze. “I should have left you to rot with your pretty French tart.”

The tension quivering in the air remained, but something that might have been satisfaction flared through his eyes.

“I had no notion that you would prove to be such a jealous wife.”

She flinched at the disturbing accusation, refusing to admit the sensations churning through her.

“I am not jealous.”

“No?”

“Certainly not. You, after all, made no promise of fidelity.”

He regarded her as if he were offended by her words. “I am your husband.”

“That has no meaning among nobles. Society treats marriage as nothing more than empty vows and—” She gasped as Gabriel hauled her against his rigid body, his arms lashing around her to hold her in place. “What are you doing?”

“I assure you that our vows were not empty. You are mine and I will not endure you taking a lover.” His eyes blazed with a perilous fire. “Not ever.”

Again she felt that thrill of excitement at his primitive claim, and again she was swift to squash it.

“While you are allowed to do as you please, as I recall,” she instead muttered.

His gaze lowered to linger on her lips. “What I please is to have my wife in my bed where she belongs.”

Talia trembled, acutely aware of his warm body pressed so intimately against her own.

This had to be some new punishment, she told herself. He could not possibly want her with the raw hunger that tightened his face and hardened his body.


“Ah, yes, which explains why you so eagerly banished me to the country,” she reminded him.

His head lowered until his breath brushed her cheek in the promise of a kiss.

“I was angry and not thinking clearly.”

She dared not allow herself to be swayed. “And why I just discovered you with a near-naked woman in your arms.”

He shifted to nibble at the edge of her lips. “She was not in my arms.”

Renegade excitement tingled through her, making her knees weak and her heart flutter.

“But she had been, had she not?” She had to know the truth. It was like a nagging thorn in the center of her heart.

He teased her lips with slow, melting kisses. “I have no interest in women such as Sophia,” he whispered, his hands tracing the delicate curve of her spine. “Not so long as I have my sweet, biddable bride returned to me.”

It was her sharp, urgent response to his touch that had Talia abruptly turning her head to escape the delectable kisses. She did not want to remember the breathtaking pleasure of being skillfully ravished by her husband. Or the aching satisfaction of being held tenderly in his arms as she slept.

It had only made the inevitable rejection more painful to endure.

“That sweet biddable bride no longer exists,” she snapped.

He nuzzled at the pulse pounding at the base of her throat, his tongue tasting of the fluttering beat.

“I could demand her return.”

She grasped the lapels of his jacket as warm bliss poured like honey through her body. Oh, heavens, she wanted to press even closer to his hard muscles. To feel those clever fingers stroking over her bare skin and his lips exploring her in the same intimate manner he had used during their wedding night.

Instead she held herself rigid.

She had her pride, did she not?

“You could demand that the sun rise in the west, but it is likely you would be disappointed.”

He chuckled at her stubbornness, obviously aware that she was far from indifferent to his touch.

“There are husbands who would beat you into submission,” he said, his mouth finding a vulnerable spot just below her ear.

She quivered, swallowing her moan of pleasure. “I am not helpless.”

“So you have proven.” His lips feathered against her skin, sending another rash of pleasure through her. “And in truth, only the weak and lazy must resort to violence to earn the cooperation of a beautiful woman.” His hands cupped the curve of her buttocks, pressing her against the thrust of his arousal. “There are far more pleasant means to tame her.”

She forced her hands against his chest, perturbed by the aching need that pulsed deep inside her.

“No.”

He pulled back to regard her with a brooding intensity. “Frightened I might speak the truth?”

Yes. She was terrified.

After years of her father’s bullying, followed by Gabriel’s brutal humiliation, Talia had at last settled into a comfortable existence. It was unnerving to think that he had only to kiss her to have her toss aside all she had gained over the past weeks just to fulfill a physical desire.

“This is hardly the time or place for such nonsense,” she said huskily.

Gabriel lifted his head with obvious reluctance, his eyes dark with frustration.

“Soon, my dear,” he said, his voice a low warning. “Very soon.”



THE NEXT FEW HOURS proved to be distinctly unpleasant for Gabriel.

It was bad enough to be forced to clear a path through the thick underbrush while he was fully aroused and aching with unfulfilled need. Hell, each step was a misery, making him wonder why he had been stupid enough to take her in his arms.

But it was the biting fear that they might stumble into even worse danger as they haphazardly fled from Jacques Gerard that haunted his every move.

He needed to find shelter where they could rest and wait for daylight. Once he could determine their exact position, he was confident he could lead them to his waiting yacht with little difficulty.

Of course, finding a shelter in the middle of enemy territory was easier said than done.

It was nearing dawn when they at last stepped from the trees, and he caught sight of a farmhouse set near a wide stream.

Even from a distance he could determine that the house had been recently burned, leaving little more than a charred shell of bricks. Thankfully, a large barn across the stable yard appeared to be reasonably intact.

Coming to a halt, he placed his hands lightly on Talia’s shoulders, his heart lurching as the brush of pink sunlight revealed the weariness that shadowed her eyes and slumped her shoulders. Her hair had long since become a mass of tangled curls, while her dress was ruined beyond repair.

She was on the edge of utter collapse, but not once had she complained or demanded that he carry her through the rough countryside. Of course, he could hardly be surprised. This was the same woman who had leaped from her window and attacked a hulking French soldier to rescue him from the cellars.

He knew of no other woman who possessed her unflinching bravery. Certainly no ladies of society.

He shuddered at the mere thought of his mother or any other female he had known over the years being in Talia’s situation. Gods, there would have been nothing but shrieking and swooning and hysterical demands that he somehow whisk them magically back to the comforts of their home.

A wry smile twisted his lips at the pride that surged through him. The irony of the situation was not lost on him.

Mere weeks ago he had condemned her for not being worthy to become his bride. And now he had to accept that she was far superior to any other female who had the blood of nobility running through her veins.

A female of genuine worth, not just shallow polish.

“Wait here,” he commanded in soft tones.

She frowned. “Where are you going?”

He nodded toward the farmhouse. “You can barely keep yourself upright. We must find a place to rest.”

“Jacques will soon discover we have escaped,” she protested. “The guards will be searching for us.”

He tucked a curl behind her ear, his thumb brushing the bruises beneath her eyes.

“There is a vast amount of land between Jacques’s lair and England,” he assured her. “So long as we do not collapse in the middle of the road from exhaustion, we should be safe enough.”

She rolled her eyes. “Must you always have your own way?”

“Of course, I am an earl,” he said with a playful arrogance that brought a welcome flush of color to her cheeks. “It is my destiny to have my own way. Besides which, I am always right, so why should I not insist on others bowing to my—”

She slapped a hand across his mouth, her eyes narrowed. “If you continue on I fear I will be vilely ill.”

Grasping her hand, he pressed her fingers to his lips before stepping back.

“Rest here. I will return in a moment.”

She bit her lip, obvious concern shimmering in her eyes. “Gabriel.”

“Be at ease,” he soothed, “I only intend to make sure there is no one near. I will soon return.”

“Unless you are shot.”

“You will not be rid of me that easily, my dear.” His faint smile faded as he regarded her somberly. “Do not move from this spot, do you understand?”

She waved a limp hand. “I am too weary to disobey you, my lord.”

“Good. Perhaps God does answer prayers,” he muttered, turning on his heel to head across the damp meadow.

Giving the burnt cottage a cursory inspection, Gabriel shifted his attention to the detached stone barn with a red tile roof that had received only minimum damage from the fire. He pulled open the wide wooden door, cautiously searching through the two-storied structure before moving on to the remaining outbuildings and the surrounding grounds.


Only when he was certain there were no hidden dangers did he return to Talia, his lips thinning at the sight of her seated on the ground, her head bowed in weariness.

Dammit, he was her husband.

She should never have been exposed to such danger. Or have been forced to endure such harsh conditions.

It was untenable.

In the future he would make certain she did not take a step outside the door unless he was firmly at her side.

Dismissing Talia’s inevitable outrage at his restriction, Gabriel leaned down to scoop her into his arms, his determination hardening at the feel of her tiny body cradled against his chest. Despite her delectable curves, she was as light as a feather.

Clearly he would also have to supervise her meals from now on, he decided. He would not have it said he refused to feed his own wife.

Her eyes fluttered open as he carried her across the field.

“What are you doing?”

“It is time you were tucked in bed.”

“Oh, it is evil of you to tease me,” she complained, her voice thick with exhaustion. “I would give anything to be in the comfort of my bed.”

His lips twisted, knowing whatever she would be willing to give was nothing in comparison to what he would sacrifice for the opportunity to join her in the comforts of her bed.

He had wanted her for so long it had become a perpetual ache.

With an effort, he managed a strained smile. “A proper wife would claim she was content so long as she was at her husband’s side.”

“Well, bully for the proper wife,” she countered, although she readily nestled her head against his shoulder. “I want a soft mattress and a feather pillow and linen sheets.”

He shook his head at her continued defiance. “What am I to do with you?”

“What do you want to do with me?”

“A dangerous question.”

Their gazes clashed with a sudden flare of heat and delayed promise. He felt Talia tense before she lowered her lashes, shielding the emotions she did not wish to share.

But it was too late.

Talia might have transformed from a shy mouse to a prickly shrew, but she wanted him with the same blinding need that held him captive.

Satisfaction coursed through him, easing his frustration as they entered the barn, and he crossed the plank floor to the far corner that was piled with loose hay.

The air was musty with only a hint of rosy dawn penetrating through the shuttered windows. From the loft above there was the unmistakable scratch of scurrying mice. Still, it was reasonably clean with a tidy row of farm equipment along one wall that had been left behind, as well as a few household items that had been rescued from the farmhouse. No doubt the owners hoped to return once the war had run its predictable course.

“Here,” he murmured, bending to lay Talia on the hay. “Not the most comfortable of beds, but it is better than the ground. Give me your bundle.”

Taking her rolled up dress, he tucked it beneath her head. Then, struggling out of his tight jacket, he gently laid it across her shoulders. Only when he was certain she was as comfortable as possible, did he lie down beside her and tuck her against his body.

She stiffened. “Gabriel?”

“Shh.” He laid a finger across her lips. “We will have only a few hours to rest. Close your eyes and go to sleep.”

Braced for an argument, Gabriel was unprepared when she instead snuggled into his embrace and, with a soft sigh, allowed her eyes to close. Within moments, she was deeply asleep.

Barely daring to breathe, he brushed the dark curls from her cheek and skimmed his lips over her forehead, savoring her sweet lilac scent. For long, timeless moments he simply gazed at the pale beauty of her face, allowing the sight of her to ease the savage fear that had been gnawing at him since her disappearance.

Then, feeling ridiculously content, he pressed his lips to her throat and gave in to his own weariness.



IT WAS MIDMORNING when Gabriel awoke with a stiff neck and empty stomach to discover the rosy dawn had been replaced with threatening clouds.

Careful not to disturb his slumbering wife, he left the barn, needing to stretch his cramped muscles. And of course, there was the necessity of making a thorough search of the area. The barn was remote, but they were still in the middle of France. He would not lower his guard until they were safely returned to Devonshire.

It took a half hour to be certain there were no lurking dangers, then another half hour to bathe in the local stream before he was filling two pails with water and using a third to gather apples from a nearby orchard.

The raindrops were just beginning to fall when he stepped back into the barn. He kicked the door closed behind him, blocking out the damp as well as the distant rumble of thunder, leaving the barn shrouded in hay-scented shadows.

Not that he minded the barren surroundings, he realized with a start of surprise.

Odd for a man who had spent his entire life pampered by luxury.

Perhaps it was the knowledge that for the first time since becoming the earl there was no secretary badgering him with reports from his various estates. Or awaiting correspondence from his Man of Business. Or the endless bills that arrived each morning. Not to mention his responsibilities to his position in the House of Lords. There were no servants hovering just out of sight. No mother with her constant complaints and no brother with his selfish demands.

He was utterly alone with Talia.

And that was nothing less than paradise.

Kneeling at Talia’s side, Gabriel put the ladle he had cleaned into one of the buckets of water and set out the apples on his handkerchief. Not the finest breakfast, but it would serve for now.

He turned his head as Talia stirred, a smile curving his lips as she instinctively reached for him. She stiffened when she found nothing but empty boards, her eyes snapping open. “Gabriel?”

“I am here, little shrew,” he murmured in soothing tones. “And I come bearing gifts.”

With a blink, she struggled to a seated position, her eyes widening at the sight of apples.

“Where did you get them?”

“The apples came from the nearby orchard and the water from the stream just beyond the cottage.”

She turned her head, allowing her gaze to slide over his disheveled appearance. He smiled wryly, knowing precisely what she was seeing. His hair was still wet from the stream and finger-combed to curl against his forehead. His jaw was unshaven and his thin linen shirt hung open at the neck to reveal a shocking amount of his chest.

No doubt he possessed all the elegance of a pirate, but he did not miss the manner in which her eyes darkened and breath quickened.

An answering surge of awareness thundered through him with shocking speed. Lord. How had this delicate gypsy managed to ensnare him with such ease? Certainly no other female had ever consumed him to the point where he thought he might go mad if he did not have her. Now.

Obviously sensing the prickles of heat in the air, Talia nervously cleared her throat.

“Did you fall in?”

His laughter rumbled through the air as he shifted to settle behind her, his fingers nimbly dealing with the tiny ivory buttons.

“I thought we could both use a good scrub, although I assumed you would prefer privacy for your bath.”

He heard her sharply drawn breath as her bodice was pulled relentlessly downward.

“Gabriel, what are you doing?”

“Assisting my wife with her morning ablutions.” Bending his head, Gabriel planted hungry kisses down the side of her neck. “It is the duty of a devoted husband, is it not?”

“Certainly not. It is the duty of the husband to stand guard at the door and make certain—”


Her words were lost in a low moan of pleasure as he unlaced her corset and tossed it aside to cup her breasts through the sheer fabric of her chemise.

“Do you enjoy that?” he whispered, brushing his thumbs over the tight peaks of her nipples. “Perhaps you would prefer this?” He plucked the ribbons holding up her undergarment and pushed it aside to cup the satin weight of her breasts in his hands.

She fell back against his chest, her entire body shivering in reaction to his bold caresses.

“Gabriel, we are in a barn,” she started to protest.

His tongue tasted the pulse that beat at a frantic pace at the base of her throat before he trailed a line of kisses down her shoulder.

“Yes, I know.”

“In full daylight.”

With a subtle motion he stroked his hands down her body, removing the female clothing that stood in his path.

“So it is.”

Her lips parted on a small gasp as he turned her to the side and laid her back on the hay, clearly becoming aware for the first time that she was completely naked.

“With heaven knows how many French soldiers searching for us,” she rasped.

Gabriel wrenched off his boots before yanking his shirt over his head and tossing it aside.

“But it has started to rain,” he informed her, ridding himself of his breeches before he stretched out next to her, his fingers threading through the glorious satin of her hair. “It would be foolish to risk the rising streams or becoming stuck in the mud.”

“The soldiers…”

He brought an end to her argument, covering her mouth with his own.

Excitement exploded through him at the first taste of her honey lips, his hands greedily exploring her luscious curves.

“We are well hidden, Talia. Let us forget the world,” he whispered. “At least for now.”

In answer, she tentatively lifted her slender arms to wrap them around his neck, and Gabriel growled in approval, dipping his head to lick a rose-tipped breast. She arched upward in pleasure, her fingers tunneling into his hair.

“Yes,” she whispered.

Tugging the nipple between his lips, Gabriel skimmed his hand down the length of her spine, lingering on the curve of her buttocks. His erection twitched at the sensation of her soft, feminine flesh beneath his hand. He could spend the entire day exploring her from the top of her tousled curls to the tips of her tiny toes.

Or perhaps not, he conceded as she shifted to brush against his aching cock.

Such a delectable exploration might have to wait until he had sated his burning lust.

More than once.

“Touch me,” he pleaded softly, allowing his hand to continue down the back of her thigh, urging her legs to part.

She hesitated only a moment before he felt the shy brush of her fingers down his back. He growled, stunned by the raw pleasure at her timid caress. He did not know how it was possible for an untutored innocent to set him on fire, but there was no denying her power.

Returning to claim her in a kiss of masculine demand, he used his tongue to urge her lips apart, bliss clenching his muscles as he at last gained access to the sweet warmth of her mouth.

She tasted of all the things in life that were good and decent. He wanted to capture that goodness, as if it could heal his jaded soul.

He trembled, his breathing ragged as her hand slid over his ribs to search the tense muscles of his chest. Distantly he was aware of the rain pelting against the roof tiles and the occasional streaks of lightning that outlined the shutters, but wrapped in the warm cocoon of the barn he allowed himself to become lost in the sensations searing through him.

Taking care not to startle Talia, Gabriel smoothed his fingers up the inner flesh of her thigh, tracing aimless patterns as she threatened to stiffen at the intimate contact.

“Trust me, Talia,” he murmured, scattering hot kisses over her face.

“Yes.”

Something shifted inside Gabriel at the soft word. Something so significant that he did not dare examine it too closely.

With a shake of his head at his ridiculous fancy, he set about stirring her to a fever pitch of desire.

His kisses became more heated as he followed a path over her cheek and down her throat. He paused to lick and suckle her straining breasts before he moved down her quivering stomach.

Gabriel lifted his head, capturing her darkened gaze as he settled between her legs, his fingers sliding delicately through her feminine heat.

“Oh,” she gasped, a flush of pleasure staining her cheeks.

He chuckled, slowly replacing his fingers with his tongue. She gave a small shriek that settled into a groan of ecstasy as her eyes slid shut.

And it was ecstasy.

Paradise.

Over and over he teased at her tiny bud of pleasure before dipping his tongue into her body, bringing her to the edge of completion before pulling back.

Her eyes flew open, her gaze laced with need. “Please…Gabriel.”

“Yes,” he choked out, unable to wait another moment.

Gathering her in his arms, he rolled onto his back, shifting until she was perched atop him. Her eyes widened at the unfamiliar position and, pressing her hands against his chest, she regarded him in puzzlement.

“This will be more comfortable for you,” he muttered, barely able to speak as her legs naturally draped on either side of his hips, her pelvis pressed perfectly against his arousal.

She bit her bottom lip. “I am not certain what to do.”

His heart squeezed. She was so beautiful with her hair tumbled over her bare shoulders and her body flushed with need.

“I will show you,” he assured her, reaching to guide her hand to his straining erection.

The breath was slammed from his body as she gingerly curled her fingers around him, nearly unmanning him. Gods. He was supposed to be a sophisticated lover, not a randy schoolboy.

“Like this?” she asked.

“Precisely like that,” he groaned. “Now guide me inside you.”

She fumbled awkwardly as she attempted to adjust him at the entrance to her body, but gritting his teeth Gabriel managed to avoid embarrassing himself. Then with a low groan he was at last pushing his way into her moist channel.

“Gabriel,” she moaned, her nails scoring his chest as Gabriel grasped her hips and lifted her upward before plunging back into her with a slow, exquisite tempo.

“Talia,” he echoed, the savage pleasure already tightening his lower stomach. “My sweet shrew.”

Her lips parted as she found his rhythm, her head tilted back as she rode him with an enthusiasm that all too swiftly had him rushing toward his release. With a muttered curse, he angled his hips upward, pressing ever deeper as his pace increased.

Incoherent words tumbled from Talia’s lips as she squeezed her eyes shut, her beautiful body arching as she was overtaken by her climax. Gabriel watched in fascination as she surrendered to the pleasure he had given her, but the sensation of her body clasping his cock in tiny ripples all too soon had him giving one last thrust before he was shouting out with a bliss he felt to his very soul.

Feeling Talia collapse against his chest, Gabriel wrapped his arms around her trembling body, struggling to recall how to breathe.

Just for those few moments, the world truly had disappeared.