Bride for a Night(147)

She gave a slow nod. “Yes, I see your point.”

Grasping her hand, he gently untangled her grip on the blanket, hissing in pleasure as the fabric slid down to reveal the pale perfection of her curves.

“So long as Harry avoids any further stupidity, he should be able to put his past behind him and begin anew,” he said, his tone distracted as his body stirred and hardened. “Wherever he is.”

A flush stained her cheeks as she lay back on the pillows, her eyes shimmering with an invitation that would tempt a saint.

“He will return when he is ready,” she murmured.

“Enough of my brother.” Stretching out at her side, Gabriel curled his fingers around the soft weight of her breast. “I believe we have a better means of passing the rest of the voyage.”

She arched beneath his touch, her arms lifting to wrap around his neck.

“Do you?”

He lowered his head, his gaze centered on the sensuous lips that were already parted in anticipation of his kiss.

“Allow me to demonstrate.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO



AS WAS HIS USUAL habit, Hugo rose from his bed at an early hour and attired himself in a fitted blue coat and buff breeches that showed his large, muscular body to advantage. He had no patience for those fools who lay abed the entire morning, expecting a bevy of servants to tend to their needs as if they were helpless invalids.

He had to admit there were some advantages to being the first to rise. He strolled into the breakfast room that was decorated with pale green satin wall panels and gold-framed mirrors. The delicate rosewood table matched the chairs upholstered in a yellow-and-cream stripe in the center of the room.

He was not only able to enjoy his breakfast of thick sliced ham, fresh eggs and warm toast with a large dollop of honey without apologizing for his healthy appetite, but he was able to enjoy the fine view of the craggy cliffs and distant sea without being forced to make meaningless chitchat.

Polishing off the last of his food, he strolled past the sideboard that groaned beneath the brimming silver chafing dishes and out the French windows that led to the balcony beyond.

They had arrived at Carrick Park yesterday, but he had been too weary to do more than climb the steps to the bedchamber he often used during his stay in Devonshire and fall into bed. Now he leaned against the stone railing and considered his immediate plans.

He would have to return to London, of course. His abrupt departure with Gabriel would no doubt have stirred ridiculous rumors that must be squelched. Especially if they hoped to deceive the traitors into believing their treachery remained a secret, as Gabriel hoped.

And after that, he would be expected to return to his home in Derbyshire for a few weeks. His estates were not nearly so extensive as Carrick Park, but he possessed tenants and servants who depended upon him. And he enjoyed his time in the country. His father often claimed that Hugo was a farmer at heart.

But he doubted that Gabriel would be prepared to leave Carrick Park for at least a few days. Hell, Hugo doubted the man would be prepared to leave his wife’s bed for at least a week.

A rueful smile at the memory of Gabriel carrying his embarrassed bride up the marble staircase, his haste to reach the private chambers above obvious to the numerous servants who had gathered in the front foyer, curved his lips.

The image had barely formed in his mind when he heard the sound of approaching footsteps. Turning, he watched in surprise as Gabriel crossed the breakfast room and stepped onto the balcony.

The Earl of Ashcombe was as elegantly attired as always in a sable-brown jacket and ivory waistcoat, with a pair of dark breeches tucked into his glossy boots. His cravat was tied in a simple Oriental knot, but the linen was crisp, and a stunning emerald stickpin glittered among the folds.