Devil in Spring (The Ravenels #3)(64)

“They’ve always done that,” he said, kissing her cheeks, chin, throat. “I won’t even notice.”

She squirmed to evade his marauding lips. “But I will, and I’ll hate it. And it will be so monotonous, looking at a perfectly beautiful person day after day. You could at least try to grow fat, or sprout some hair out of your ears, or lose a front tooth—No, even then you’d still be too handsome.”

“I could develop a receding hairline,” he offered.

Pandora considered that, reaching up to push back the heavy gold-shot locks that had fallen over his forehead. “Are there bald people in your family? On either side?”

“Not that I know of,” he admitted.

She scowled. “Don’t give me false hope, then. Just admit it: You’re always going to be handsome, and somehow I’ll have to find a way to live with it.”

Gabriel tightened his arms as she tried to pull away. “Pandora,” he whispered, holding her firmly. “Pandora.”

If only she could stop the terrible-wonderful feelings that flooded her. Hot. Cold. Happy. Afraid. She couldn’t make sense of what was happening to her. Gabriel was murmuring, pouring delicious words into her ear. “You’re so beautiful . . . so precious to me. I’m not asking for a surrender, I’m offering you one. I’ll do anything. It has to be you, Pandora . . . only you . . . for the rest of my life. Marry me . . . say you’ll marry me . . .”

His mouth was on hers, stroking deeply, his hands moving over her, his fingers spreading as if he couldn’t feel enough of her. The heavy muscles of his body tensed and relaxed as he altered his hold, trying to fit her closer against him. Then he went still with his lips against her throat, as if he’d realized the futility of words. He was silent, except for his unsteady breathing. The side of her face was pressed against his hair, the gleaming locks smelling like sun and ocean salt. His scent filled her. His warmth was all around her. He waited with merciless, devastating patience.

“All right,” she croaked.

His breath stopped, and his head jerked up. “You’ll marry me?” He spoke with great care, as if he wanted to make certain there was no misunderstanding.

“Yes.” She could barely speak.

A flush of color rose through his tan, and a slow grin emerged, so brilliant that it nearly blinded her. “Lady Pandora Ravenel . . . I’m going to make you so happy that you won’t even care about losing your money, freedom, and your entire legal existence.”

Pandora groaned. “Don’t even joke about it. I have conditions. Thousands of them.”

“Yes to all of them.”

“Starting with . . . I want my own bedroom.”

“Except for that one.”

“I’m used to privacy. A lot of it. I need a room in the house that’s only mine.”

“You can have several rooms for privacy. We’ll buy a big house. But we’re going to share a bed.”

Pandora decided to argue about the bed later. “The important thing is that I won’t promise to obey you. I literally can’t. The word has to be removed from the wedding vows.”

“Agreed,” he said readily.

Pandora’s eyes widened in surprise. “Really?”

“You’ll have to replace it with some other word.” Gabriel bent over her, the tip of his nose touching hers. “A good one.”

It was hard to think with his mouth so close.

“Fondle?” she suggested breathlessly.

He made a sound of amusement. “If you like.” As he tried to kiss her again, she strained her head back.

“Wait, there’s another condition. About your mistress.” Pandora felt him go still, his gaze encompassing her. “I wouldn’t like—that is, I can’t—” She broke off, impatient with herself, and forced the words out. “I won’t share you.”

The glow in his eyes was like the innermost heart of a flame. “I said, ‘only you,’” he reminded her. “I meant it.” His lashes lowered, and his lips came to hers.

And for a long time after that, there was no more discussion.



The rest of that day was a colorful blur in Pandora’s memory. Only a few moments stood out in the dreamlike haze. First they went to share the news with her family, who seemed delighted to the point of elation. As Kathleen and Cassandra embraced Gabriel by turns and inundated him with questions, Devon took Pandora aside.

“This is what you want?” he asked softly, staring down at her with those black-rimmed blue eyes so much like her own.

“Yes,” she said on a faint note of amazement. “It is.”

“St. Vincent came to talk with me this afternoon about the solicitor’s letter. He said that if he could persuade you to marry him, he would do everything possible to encourage you in your business, and refrain from interfering. He understands what it means to you.” Devon paused to glance at Gabriel, who was still talking with Kathleen and Cassandra, before continuing in a low tone. “The Challons come from a tradition in which a gentleman’s word is ironclad. They still honor tenant agreements that were made a century ago over a simple handshake.”

“Then you think we can rely on his promise.”

“Yes. But I also told him that if he doesn’t keep it, I’ll break both his legs.”