Devil in Spring (The Ravenels #3)(96)

Pandora stared at him in astonishment.

His control was going to extend to her business. He was going to decide when and how much she could work, and oblige her to ask his permission for whatever she wanted to do, all in the name of protecting her health. She felt her temper erupt.

“You had no right to do that,” she cried. “It wasn’t your decision to make!”

“It is when your health is at stake.”

“Dr. Gibson just said I could go on limited outings.”

“The first time you went out, you became mixed up with a group of radical political terrorists.”

“That could have happened to anyone!”

His expression was unyielding. “But it happened to you.”

“Are you saying it was my fault?” Pandora stared in astonishment at the cold-eyed stranger at the foot of her bed, who had changed from husband to enemy with bewildering suddenness.

“No, I’m saying—damn it—Pandora, calm down.”

She was struggling to breathe, blinking against the rage that misted her vision in a hot red cloud. “How can I calm down when you’re breaking your promises to me? This is what I was afraid of. This is what I told you I didn’t want!”

His voice changed, becoming hushed and urgent. “Pandora, take a deep breath. Please. You’ll work yourself into hysterics.” He turned to Dr. Gibson with a quiet curse. “Can you give her something?”

“No,” Pandora cried wrathfully. “He won’t be satisfied until I’m kept sedated in the attic with an ankle manacled to the floor.”

The physician regarded them thoughtfully, looking from one to the other as if watching a game of lawn tennis. She approached the bedside, reached into her leather doctor’s bag, and pulled out a prescription pad and pencil. In a businesslike manner, she wrote a prescription, and gave it to Pandora.

Fuming, Pandora looked down at the slip of paper.

Take one overwrought husband and administer compulsory bed rest. Apply as many embraces and kisses as necessary until symptoms are relieved. Repeat as needed.



“You can’t be serious,” Pandora said, looking up at Garrett Gibson’s composed face.

“I suggest you follow it to the letter.”

Pandora scowled. “I’d rather have an enema.”

The doctor turned away, but not before Pandora saw the flash of a grin. “I’ll stop by tomorrow, as usual.”

Both husband and wife remained silent until Garrett Gibson left the room and closed the door.

“Hand me the prescription,” Gabriel said curtly. “I’ll have Dragon take it to the apothecary.”

“I’ll tell him,” Pandora replied through gritted teeth.

“Fine.” He went to straighten the haphazard collection of items on the table near the bed, cups and tumblers, books, letters, pencils and blank paper, playing cards, and a little hand-bell that Pandora had yet to use because she was never left alone long enough to need someone.

She slanted a mutinous glance up at her husband. He wasn’t overwrought, he was overbearing. But as she stared more closely at him, she saw the smudges of shadows beneath his eyes, and the lines of strain, and the tense set of his mouth. Gabriel looked tired and grim, restless beneath the surface. It occurred to her that, along with his constant worrying over her, two weeks of celibacy had not brought out the best in his character.

She thought of those brief, dry kisses he’d been giving her. How nice it would feel if he held her, really held her, and kissed her the way he used to. As if he loved her.

Love . . . he often used the word as an endearment. He’d demonstrated his feelings a thousand ways, but he’d never actually said those three simple words. As for her . . . she was the wallflower who’d somehow caught the handsomest man at the ball, the man everyone wanted. Obviously it wasn’t fair for her to be the one to take the risk.

But someone had to.

As she watched while Gabriel sorted through the medicine spoons, she decided to take the bull by the horns. “You probably already know this,” she said bluntly, “but I love you. In fact, I love you so much that I don’t mind your monotonous handsomeness, your prejudice against certain root vegetables, or your strange preoccupation with spoon-feeding me. I’m never going to obey you. But I’m always going to love you.”

The declaration wasn’t exactly poetic, but it seemed to be what he’d needed to hear.

The spoons clattered on the table. In the next moment, he sat on the bed and gathered her against his chest. “Pandora,” he said huskily, holding her against his violently thumping heart. “I love you more than I can bear. You’re everything to me. You’re the reason the earth turns and morning follows night. You’re the meaning of primroses and why kissing was invented. You’re the reason my heart beats. God help me, I’m not strong enough to survive without you. I need you too much . . . I need you . . .”

She turned her face to his. Here at last was her familiar husband, his mouth hot and hungering. The feel of his solid chest against hers brought the tips of her breasts to throbbing points. She tilted her head back luxuriously, and he feasted on the tender side of her neck, using his tongue, grazing with the edge of his teeth until she shivered with pleasure.

Breathing heavily, Gabriel lifted his head and held her, rocking her slightly. She could feel the struggle inside him, the violent longing and forced restraint.