Page 103 of One Night with a Prince
“Marry me, darling.” He tugged her down, laying her out on the cushions scattered about the gazebo floor. After shoving off his drawers, he knelt between her legs and entered her with one fierce thrust. “I can’t promise I’ll make you happy, but I sure as hell will try.”
“What if I need something more to make me happy?” she asked hesitantly.
“Something more?” His eyes searched hers. “Ah yes, something more.” He drove into her deeply, then said in a husky rasp, “I love you, Christabel. More than I ever imagined possible, I love you.”
Her joy exploded, making her arch up into him in an urgent need to be closer to him, to have him filling her so completely that they could never be torn apart. “Oh, Gavin, I love you, too.”
His gaze grew fierce, hungry, the gaze of a man who knew what he wanted and would move heaven and earth to get it. “Then marry me, my love.” His voice was an aching whisper as he thundered into her.
“Marry me…marry me…”
And as the need soared in her, finding an answer in his wild and passionate thrusts, she cried,
“Yes…yes…oh yes, Gavin, yes!”
Then they were reaching release together, the flood of pleasure swamping her, washing away any doubtsGenerated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.htmland uncertainties until the only thing remaining was the bedrock of the love she felt for her dear, strong Gavin.
The aftermath was sweet indeed. Gavin dragged her into his embrace, where they lay, hearts pounding, until their blood began to cool and their passion to ebb.
Still hardly daring to believe the joy that stole through her, she whispered, “Did you mean it?”
He tipped her chin up to him, and the warmth in his eyes made it clear that he knew exactly what she was asking. “I love you. I love how you throw yourself into any endeavor with the strength and enthusiasm of an army marching to war. I love that you try to be honest in everything, that you hire damaged soldiers as servants, that you’re loyal to your family. I adore the fact that you went after Anna with a knife.” His amusement faded to earnestness. “I love that you look at me and don’t see a bastard or a coldhearted gambler or a licentious fool. You see a man worth saving. I love that most of all.”
Her throat grew tight as she stroked his cheek. “Tell the truth, my love. If I’d refused to marry you, would you still have agreed to help me get the letters back to Papa?”
He flashed her a rueful smile. “Yes.” When she began to smile, he added gruffly, “But only in hopes that I could convince you later to marry me.”
“Nonsense,” she teased. “You do have a conscience, for all your protests otherwise.And a soul.”
“If you say so,” he muttered. “But if you think that means I’m going to start forgiving people’s debts and doing fool things like going to church and—”
Her kiss cut him off. When it rapidly flared into something hot and raw and he slid his hand down to fondle her breast, she broke free to whisper, “Enough of that for now. We’ll have plenty of time for it later.” Sitting up, she found her chemise and drew it on. “Now tell me how we’re going to get Papa’s letters back.”
With a sigh, he propped his head up on one hand. “All right, darling. My plan isn’t foolproof by any means, but here’s what I was thinking…”
Chapter Twenty-Three
If your lover is a gambler, you must be
prepared for anything.
—Anonymous,Memoirs of a Mistress
As Gavin ushered Christabel into Stokely’s study right behind the baron, he tamped down his unease. He must sound convincing to a man who knew him far too well. If this didn’t work—
It had to. He gazed down at Christabel, at her luminous eyes and fear-tightened mouth, and felt a punch in the gut at the thought of failing her.
She cast him a sudden glance, a hesitant smile, and his heart constricted. He had to convince Stokely one way or the other. He refused to disappoint her as Haversham had.
“So what’s this about, Byrne?” Stokely asked as he took a seat behind his desk. “You mentioned aGenerated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.htmlproposition?”
“I want to buy Lady Haversham’s letters from you.”
Stokely didn’t even bother to pretend he didn’t know what Gavin meant. “Why would I sell them to you when I wouldn’t take Prinny’s money for them?”
“Because if you don’t,” Gavin retorted, “I’ll make them useless to you.”
The baron’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”
