Page 30 of The Hidden Lord
The prospect sounded oddly pleasant. More than pleasant, if he was being honest with himself. The only obstacle to such an appealing future was that Miss Bigsby would have to agree to wed him.
Her tirade rose to a crescendo as she delivered her final accusations, then she stopped directly next to his chair, breathing hard from the exertion of her speech.
“What do you have to say to that, Lord Trenwith?” she demanded, her chin lifted in challenge.
Gabriel considered her for a long moment, taking in the determined set of her jaw, the way she held herself with such dignity despite everything she had endured. Then he slowly rose to his feet, gazing down into her face with a renewal of interest that he made no attempt to hide.
“Gabriel,” he said quietly.
“What?” Miss Bigsby blinked, clearly not expecting such a response.
“If we are to wed, you should call me by my given name. Gabriel.”
She shook her head firmly. “We are not to wed, Lord Trenwith.”
“Gabriel,” he repeated with gentle insistence.
She firmed her jaw, delivering her words with great deliberation. “We are not to wed, Lord Trenwith.”
Gabriel smiled then. He was beginning to understand something important about Miss Henrietta Bigsby. She was not a woman who could be bullied or cajoled into submission. She would have to be persuaded, and persuasion was something Gabriel had considerable experience with.
A woman like her, possessing such courage and passion, such a sense of adventure … It must take an iron will to keep the fires of desire banked. A spinster, on the shelf—what would happen if those fires were lit?
Gabriel felt his loins begin to thrum in approval as he considered how he could convince her to accept his offer of marriage. And how much he would enjoy that act of persuasion. This was the one occasion in which his personal wishes and his duty deliciously coincided.
“I find I like the challenge, Miss Bigsby,” Gabriel said, his tone carrying a warmth that had been absent during their earlier conversations. “You have always had a knack for engaging mysenses, for making me feel more alive and connected with the world.”
She stared at him, clearly taken aback by this unexpected turn in their conversation. “Lord Trenwith, I hardly think?—”
“Gabriel,” he corrected gently, then gestured toward the door. “But perhaps we should continue this discussion another time. You have had a long day, and I suspect you would benefit from more rest.”
Gabriel offered his arm, and after a moment’s hesitation, she accepted it. They made their way back up the narrow staircase in relative silence, though Gabriel was acutely aware of her presence beside him. The scent of lavender that clung to her hair, the warmth of her hand resting lightly on his sleeve, the rustle of her skirts as they climbed.
When they reached her door, Gabriel turned to face her, noting how the lamplight from the corridor cast soft shadows across her features.
“Good night, Miss Bigsby. I trust you will sleep well.”
She opened her mouth as if to speak, perhaps to deliver another lecture about his high-handed behavior or to demand more answers about their situation. But before she could declare whatever protest was forming, Gabriel stepped closer and gently cupped her face in his hands.
“Gabriel,” he murmured, his thumbs brushing lightly across her cheekbones. “My name is Gabriel.”
Then he leaned down and pressed his lips to hers, the kiss soft but unmistakably purposeful. Miss Bigsby went very still in his arms, her intake of breath sharp with surprise. But she did not pull away, and Gabriel allowed himself to savor the feel of her mouth, the way she melted against him despite her obvious shock.
When he finally lifted his head, her eyes were wide with confusion. Gabriel smiled and took a step back, executing a small bow.
“Good night, Miss Bigsby. Sweet dreams.”
He waited until she had entered her room and closed the door behind her, then locked it before making his way back down the corridor. Tomorrow would bring new challenges, new opportunities to convince her that marriage to him was not the disaster she believed it to be.
But tonight, Gabriel found himself looking forward to the campaign ahead with more enthusiasm than he had felt for anything in years. Henrietta Bigsby was proving to be the most intriguing and worthwhile challenge of his entire diplomatic career.
And like his other negotiations, this was one he had every intention of winning.
To her dismay,Henri opened like a flower to the sun, their kiss deepening as his large hands came up to clasp her waist. But then they were gliding upward, and she felt his fingers brushing the under swell of her breasts. Everything was white-hot heat as hitherto unsuspected passion burst out of her like a tidal wave sweeping over the shore.
She barely comprehended he was speaking before the door was shut, followed by a decisive click announcing it was locked.
Henri stood frozen for several heartbeats, her hand pressed to her lips, still feeling Gabriel’s mouth against hers. Her heart hammered against her ribs, and she felt oddly breathless, as if she had been running rather than simply kissed by a man she should despise.
