Page 72 of Why Do Earls Fall in Love?
Their eyes met.
Don’t go. He said it with look and touch. Never out loud.
She seemed to hear it, nonetheless. She stayed where she was, her bottom nestled into his lap and she gave orders for the table to be moved next to them, and the supplies laid out.
With quiet competency, she bathed his wound, cleaned and plastered it. Gently, she cleaned the blood from his hair and neck, and removed his stained cravat. Her touch was soft, full of its own tender healing. She bade him drink the hot, sweet tea. She directed the cleaning up, dismissed the servants, and only then did she start to rise again, from his lap.
He had serious complications to attend to. A potentially large and dangerous mess to sort out. But she was here. Supporting him. Tending him. Staying, even though she had questions and suspicions. And she was doing it again, making him cravemore. More tenderness. More of the care she offered so easily, as if it wasn’t a strange and irregular occurrence in his life. As if it didn’t feel miraculous. Sacred. Irresistible.
He didn’t resist.
He cast aside the fear that tried to rise in him, along with the desire and need. He pushed back the urgency that hovered, calling him to investigate the things those ruffians had said, that Perry’s girl had unwittingly confirmed.
He gave in to need. To the scent of rose water and the soothing sound of her voice and the bosom that tantalized him. He cupped her breasts and pulled her down for his kiss.
He kissed her with all the feelings he’d been keeping in a stranglehold. They rose in a flood. He must find a release for them—so he gave them all to her, sent in this kiss. In searing heat and sweeping tongues and the caresses he ran over her.
She heard it. Felt it. Answered. She kissed him back, holding nothing in reserve. Giving. Always giving. And for once, he allowed himself to take. To feel.
He buried his hands in her golden hair. He trailed kisses along her jaw and down the slender curve of her neck. He teased her with lips and tongue, and then he moved his hands down to feel, through her shift and stays, the peaks of her nipples. He pinched them while running his tongue along the neckline of her gown and reveling in the delicate heat and sweetness of her skin.
“Gabriel.” She leaned back and his cock stirred further at the movement. He reached to bring her back.
“Gabriel.” She framed his face with her soft hands. “This is a lovely, maddening distraction—but we have serious matters to address.”
He breathed deeply, pulling in more of her scent. He clutched her tightly for just a moment more, sighed . . .and let her go.
She climbed to her feet, backed away a little. “Tell me, please.”
He groaned. “It’s so complicated—and it started long ago.”
“I want to hear it. All of it. I want to help, Gabriel, but you must stop shutting me out.”
She didn’t know what she asked. Could he do it? Air all of the dirty family laundry? But that wasn’t truly the problem. He would have to confess his worst failings. She would be repulsed. He would have to tell her about the list and his increasingly dangerous attempts to make amends. She would be frightened.
But what was the alternative? To turn her away? To dismiss her, lock her out of the most important parts of his life? Weeks ago, he would have swiftly answered in the affirmative. But now, he was tempted to trust her. Closing his eyes, he saw flashes. Her wicked grin when she proposed he invade London’s drawing rooms dressed as a cherub. The way she’d teased him during their marriage ceremony. She’d told him about her siblings and her father and she’d shared the secret longing she had to paint. She’d made him sketches and apple cake. She’d been telling him every day, in small ways, that she cared. That she was there, listening and waiting.
Waiting for him to show up.
Finally.
He drew a deep breath. “It all started with my father. Before I was born. Before he married, even. When he inherited the marquessate as a young man.”
Her eyes closed. In relief? When they opened, she gave him a smile of such joy and gratitude . . . and the words suddenly came easier.
“I told you he fashioned himself king of his domain? I meant it. He holds complete sway over the estate and the village. As magistrate, he’s the arbiter of justice, too. When he was young, after he inherited, he also moved to take over the local smuggling ring.”
“Smuggling?” She pulled a chair closer to his and sat.
“Well, itiscoastal Devonshire. The local gang has been in operation since the beginning of the last century. Many of the village families have come to depend on the extra income it provides. But my father didn’t want such a lucrative scheme going on unless he had a hand in it. He couldn’t openly run the gang, though, so he arranged a proxy. John Hurley.”
She paled.
“Yes. Father to our Hurley. The pair of them, our fathers, are thick as thieves. Together, they set about reorganizing the operation. There was a bit of grumbling, at first. But they arranged for safer, steadier transport and set up safe houses along routes to the larger towns, where the tub carriers would transport the goods. There is a quarry on our estate, and my father built a secret room off one of the tunnels to hold incoming shipments. There are also several chambers built into the cliffs below our home of Broadscove. The smugglers stopped complaining about his interference when the jobs became easier, and they began to make significantly more money.”
“Speaking as the daughter of a man who fought the French, it doesn’t seem quite . . . honorable,” she objected. “Your father is, after all, a peer of the realm.”
“And a richer one, now,” Whiddon said on a sigh. “Do you think I didn’t try to dissuade him? Both my brother William and I objected, as soon as we grew old enough to understand.” He shuddered. “More than just his honor, it goes against his duty to protect the realm, to be a caretaker of the people. His greed always wins out, though. He hungers for both money and power and ignores all else.” He hung his head. “It’s shameful. A blight on my family. But not only did my father refuse to listen, he did worse.”
