Bride for a Night(144)

Even if it was only for the satisfaction her body could offer.

Her fingernails dug into his back as that shimmering, glorious peak hovered just beyond reach. At the moment she would have agreed to anything he demanded.

“Yes,” she whispered.

With a growl that echoed through the cabin, he returned his mouth to her aching breast as he shifted his body over the top of her, settling between her thighs.

“Open for me, my dear,” he rasped against her skin, moaning softly as she instinctively wrapped her legs around his slender hips. “Yes, that is perfect.”

“Gabriel…”

Her words were brought to a shuddering halt as his erection slid into her welcoming body. A shocking jolt of intense pleasure surged through her as he began to rock his hips back and forth.

She moaned with each deep thrust, lost in his perfect rhythm as he continued to plunge inside her and at the same time used his teeth to torment the tip of her breast.


At last it was all too much.

Talia gasped as she writhed beneath his touch, her nails raking down his back. Even having enjoyed his loving more than once she was still shocked by the near violent explosion that clenched her lower muscles and brought a startled scream to her lips.

Paradise, indeed.



GABRIEL FLOATED in a haze of blissful satisfaction, his arms wrapped tightly about his wife as the yacht swayed and rocked beneath them.

It would be a simple matter to close his eyes and allow his exhaustion to pull him into slumber. He could not even recall how long it had been since he had been able to claim more than a snatched hour or two of uneasy rest.

In truth, he had not enjoyed a full night of uninterrupted sleep since he had sent Talia away from London.

But, while he was satisfied that they truly had escaped from the clutches of Jacques Gerard and that they would soon be safely tucked at Carrick Park, he found it impossible to take his gaze from Talia.

It was not just her tousled beauty that was bathed in the sunlight that peeked through the porthole, although the sight of her dark, glossy curls tumbled over the pillow and her pale face flushed with lingering pleasure was enough to inspire poets. No, it was more the unshakable, if irrational, fear that she might disappear from his arms the moment he closed his eyes.

His arms tightened around her warm curves and tugged the cover over their entwined bodies. Talia wiggled onto her side, studying him with a searching gaze.

“What is troubling you?”

He tucked a stray curl behind her ear. “What could be troubling me?”

She wrinkled her nose at his evasive response, no doubt sensing his reluctance to discuss his odd apprehension. But rather than snuggling against his chest and falling asleep as he had hoped, she continued to regard him with that all too knowing gaze.

“What are your plans for when we return to England?”

He allowed his hand to smooth down the arch of her back. If he could not coax her to sleep, then perhaps he could find another means to distract her.

“Do you wish me to describe them in detail?”

She trembled in ready response, but pressing a hand to his chest, she refused to be diverted. Stubborn wench.

“I mean in regard to your brother.”

Knowing when to accept defeat, Gabriel rolled onto his back and stared at the open beams above his head.

“I cannot keep Harry’s betrayal from the King or his council within the Home Office,” he admitted.

He felt her stiffen at his side. “But…”

“It is not to punish my brother, Talia,” he said, overriding her predictable protest. Once he had accepted that Harry had disappeared with no intent of returning to England, Gabriel had made his decision. The only decision possible. “But while I pray that he has truly learned his lesson, I cannot risk the lives of British soldiers while Harry is still capable of causing harm.”