Page 65 of The Hidden Lord
“I have been such a fool,” Gabriel whispered against her hair. “I nearly lost you because I was too afraid to trust that you might see something in me worth keeping.”
“Never,” Henri said fiercely, pulling back to look into his eyes. “You could never lose me, Gabriel. I fell in love with you in Calais, with your strength and your mystery and yes, even your stubborn refusal to let anyone close. I have been waiting for you to trust me with your heart ever since.”
Gabriel cupped her face in his hands, his thumbs brushing away the tears that had spilled down her cheeks. “Then we have a lifetime to learn how to do this properly. To build something real together.”
Henri smiled through her tears, feeling as though the ancient puzzle they had been solving was nothing compared to the mystery of Gabriel’s heart that she was finally being permitted to unravel. “I want to spend the rest of my life discovering all the secrets of who you are.”
As Gabriel leaned down to kiss her with a tenderness that spoke to new beginnings rather than desperate passion, Henri was overcome by happiness. This was their moment. They had found each other at last.
When their lips eventually parted, she rested her head against his chest and asked, “Will you tell me about Horace Pelham?”
CHAPTER 21
“With all joy of heart they loved together.”
Sir Thomas Malory,Le Morte d’Arthur
FEBRUARY 10, 1822
Henri stirred slowly from the depths of sleep, her consciousness returning gradually like morning mist lifting from the shore. The now familiar weight of Gabriel’s arm across her waist anchored her to wakefulness, though she kept her breathing deep and even, savoring these stolen moments before the demands of their day intruded upon the tender intimacy they had discovered.
The primary bedchamber at Grimsfell Hall caught the first pale light of dawn through tall casement windows, casting long shadows across the Persian carpet and mahogany furnishings. The room retained the grandeur of its origins while embracingmore recent refinements. Brocade hangings, polished brass fixtures, and a marble fireplace, where the remains of last night’s fire still glowed softly, decorated the space.
Gabriel’s fingers traced lazy patterns along her shoulder, his touch light as a whisper but sending shivers of awareness through her entire being. His hand drifted lower with deliberate slowness, fingers splaying across her ribs before following the curve of her waist. Henri’s breath caught as he explored just below her hipbone, his thumb drawing small circles that made her arch against him with unconscious need.
She turned in his arms, meeting his hazel eyes that held both tenderness and unmistakable hunger. The morning stubble along his jaw roughened his usually pristine appearance, making him look deliciously disheveled and entirely hers.
“Good morning,” she murmured against his lips, her voice husky with sleep and want.
His response was wordless at first, expressed through the gentle pressure of his mouth on hers and the way his palms framed her face as if she were something precious and fragile. His kiss deepened gradually, his tongue tracing the seam of her lips until she opened for him with a soft sigh of surrender.
Yet Henri felt anything but fragile in his embrace. She felt powerful, alive with a fierce joy that made her bold enough to press her advantage. Her own palms began their exploration, trailing down the strong column of his throat to the broad expanse of his naked chest. She delighted in the way his muscles tensed beneath her caress, in the sharp intake of breath when her fingers found the sensitive hollow at the base of his throat.
“Henri,” he groaned, her name like a prayer, his fingers tangling in her unbound hair as she pressed kisses along his collarbone.
Their lovemaking was different from the desperate passion of previous encounters. It was slower, deeper, filled with theluxury of time and privacy. Gabriel took his time worshipping her body with his palms and mouth, learning what made her gasp and what made her moan his name. When his lips found the sensitive spot where her neck met her shoulder, Henri felt herself melting beneath his attention, her body coming alive under his reverent caress.
She traced the old scar along his ribs, a reminder of dangers faced and survived, before her fingers moved lower to explore his hardening manhood, eliciting a response that made him grip the bed linens with white-knuckled intensity. The power she held over this controlled, careful man was intoxicating.
When Henri finally rose above him, her hair falling like a silk curtain around them both, Gabriel’s palms settled on her hips with worshipful reverence. The pale morning light streaming through the casement windows painted his skin luminous, catching the flush that spread across his chest. She gloried in the way his breathing caught as she moved, in the way his grip tightened as if anchoring himself to earth.
“You are so beautiful,” he whispered, his voice rough with emotion as his palms traced the curves of her body with infinite tenderness.
Henri leaned down to capture his lips in a kiss that spoke of possession and surrender in equal measure. The sensation of being joined with him, of moving together in perfect harmony, threatened to overwhelm her completely. She had never imagined such intimacy was possible. This complete fusion of body and spirit left no barriers between them.
Gabriel’s palms guided her movements, his caress both demanding and tender as they found their rhythm together. The ancient bed, solid as a ship and twice as old, bore witness to their joining without protest. Henri lost herself in the exquisite tension building between them, in the way Gabriel’s gaze never left her face, in the breathless moments when the worldnarrowed to nothing but sensation and connection and the overwhelming rightness of being with him.
When release finally claimed them both, it was with an intensity that left Henri trembling over Gabriel’s powerful form. They moved together through the waves of pleasure, each sensation magnified by their emotional connection. His palms stroked her back as she collapsed against him, her face buried in the curve of his neck as aftershocks rippled through her body.
When they finally stilled, breathing hard and limbs entwined, Henri pressed her face against Gabriel’s shoulder and wished that they could stay like this forever. His arms tightened around her as if he loathed the thought of rising as much as she did, and she felt his lips press a soft kiss to the crown of her head.
“I love you,” she whispered against his heated skin, the words escaping before she could stop them.
Gabriel’s sharp intake of breath made her tense. They were still learning their way together, and he was still a private man endeavoring to share himself more openly. Then his palm cupped her face, tilting it up so he could meet her gaze.
“And I love you,” he replied, his voice thick with emotion. “More than I ever thought possible.”
An hour later, they made their way to the breakfast room where Mrs. Roskelly, the elderly housekeeper Gabriel had engaged along with the property, had laid out a proper morning meal. The woman was a treasure. She was discreet, efficient, and apparently untroubled by the unconventional arrangement of her temporary employers.
