Page 63 of A Bride By Morning
Completely at his mercy.
And god, but Lydia liked it. She loved the feel of Gabriel pounding against her, his control utterly absent. Of the harsh breath against her nape. Of the hand that squeezed in her hair. He did not whisper filthy things to her. He did not speak. He was a lover in the dark driven by a carnal, animal need, and so was she. She ground back against him as he plunged his cock in and out. He’d said she couldn’t touch him, but she could do this small thing. She could touch him this way.
Gabriel’s breath hitched at the movement, and he quickened his pace. The only sound in the room was the slap of skin, their harsh, ragged breaths.
Then, with a rough groan, he climaxed. His forehead pressed between her shoulder blades as his breathing evened. And for a moment, he held her like that. Cradled her with a tenderness that stole her breath.
Then he whispered, “Lydia. I’m sorry. God, I’m so fucking sorry.”
Then he withdrew from her and crossed the room. Before Lydia could utter a single word, he shut the connecting door.
And she heard the lock slide in place.
29
Gabriel patrolled the grounds of Langdon Manor and tried not to think of Lydia.
He had been riding since before dawn, making his way across the hills of the craggy landscape, a place he had not visited since shortly after his father and brother died. That inspection two years prior had been brief, but something about the jagged escarpments and persistent moody weather had suited him. His flashes of memories at Langdon from his childhood faded around the edges—more dreams than reality. So little of his past self to burden his present. In contrast to Meadowcroft, he did not have constant reminders in the very terrain of the life he could have lived with Lydia.
Even so, Gabriel’s mind rioted over what he’d done to Lydia the night before. A sudden darkness clouded his mind like a cold ocean current dragging him beneath the water. Had he hurt her? Done worse?England, she would say, if he had gone too far. She would remind him they were in England.
But memories of Moscow had been too close to the surface; he had been stranded in his memories. Had she said the word? Did he fail to hear? In taking her with him to Moscow, Gabriel wondered if he had shattered Lydia’s trust in him to keep her safe.
Gabriel tipped back his head and shut his eyes. “Shit,” he breathed.
Previous lovers had been informed of his predilections and his habits of sinking into that haze. So when he found a woman who enjoyed it, he paid her regular visits.
But until a few days ago, Lydia had never been intimate with a man—and last night, he’d shoved her face into the mattress and fucked her like an animal.
Gabriel didn’t know how to apologize to her. She might have given him permission, but Lydia deserved the right to change her mind. And he didn’t know if he’d heard her make that choice.
He couldn’t bear to remain in that bedroom with her afterward. The very thought of her coming to understand just how damaged he was had wrecked his already fragmented soul.
He was too broken to be a husband for her.
Too broken to be a proper, gentle lover.
Too. Fucking. Broken.
With a weary sigh, Gabriel affectionately patted his horse’s neck and rode back to the manor. Earlier that morning, a cable had come from Wentworth with a short message communicating that he would arrive that afternoon with Callihan. Gabriel’s relief that they had both survived Medvedev’s men dimmed when he read the second part of the message:Bear escaped.
So Medvedev was still a danger, and Lydia . . .
Fuck, but Gabriel had to apologize to her. Do anything he could to make it up to her. He’d get on his knees if she asked it of him.
Lydia was leaving the library when he walked into the manor’s vestibule. She paused, a flicker of apprehension in her features as she looked him over. “Good morning. Were you out for a ride?”
Gabriel set his gloves on the entryway table. “Patrolling. Wentworth sent word earlier that Medvedev managed to get away last night. I wanted to make sure we weren’t tracked.”
“Oh,” she said softly. She fidgeted with the lace on her dress, and Gabriel’s concern grew. “Despite the reason, did you . . . have a lovely ride?”
Her faint words left shards of glass twisting through the center of his chest. She seemed so uncertain.
It all but confirmed his worst fear.
“I did,” he said. “The grounds of Langdon are beautiful. I’ll show them to you sometime.”
God, but the veneer of politeness he maintained for the servants within listening distance took every ounce of effort.I’m sorry, he wanted to say.God fuck, but I am so sorry. If you forgave me, I’d be the most fortunate man who ever lived.
