The Wife He Always Wanted (16 page)

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Authors: Cheryl Ann Smith

Tags: #Romance, #Nineteenth Century, #Fiction, #Historical Romance

BOOK: The Wife He Always Wanted
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He gave her no time to puzzle over her lost innocence or worry if she was a satisfactory wife. His rough hands caressed the most scandalous places on her body as his lips tormented her with his attention to her mouth until she was fully engaged in their lovemaking. Within minutes, her body happily accepted his seductive intrusion and she moaned deep in her throat.

“Damn, you drive me to madness, sweet.” Gabriel leaned to nibble her breasts, teasing the nipples with his tongue and eliciting happy whimpers from her. He eased in and out, rubbing against the tender bud with a fingertip, until she was ready to peak again. When she cried out for a second time his thrusts became more fervent. Within moments he found his own release.

Sarah ran her hands down his back to the ridge of his buttocks. Whether he’d consider her too bold, she did not care. She’d wanted to touch him for weeks. Now she was in his bed and would not hold back.

He held himself up on his elbows so as not to crush her. She kissed his throat. “I cannot believe the difference a passage of weeks makes,” she said. “I thought you did not find me appealing.”

Lifting his head, he met her eyes. “We were both unsure about the marriage. My hesitation had nothing to do with your appeal. I find you immensely desirable.” He rolled over onto his back and pulled her close. “At first I thought of you as Albert’s little sister and thought myself traitorous for wanting to bed you.”

“You found me desirable?”

He snorted. “What an innocent you are. Did my kisses not show you my interest? I’ve been plotting your seduction for weeks. Tonight you gave me my opportunity.”

No matter how much Noelle claimed she saw Gabriel’s interest, Sarah refused to believe it was anything more than a man starved of feminine attention. Any woman would do. His comment proved her incorrect. He did not want just any woman. He wanted her.

“Why then did you wait?”

“Our wedding night was abysmal. You were not ready. I felt trapped. I thought our failed coupling was my punishment for pushing you into a marriage.”

“I recall it was I pushing you.” She swirled a curl on his chest with a fingertip. “I feared you. I thought you a savage. Tonight you proved me correct.”

He kissed her. She smiled beneath his mouth.

“That night I did not know how to be a husband, how to properly seduce a virgin. Even now, I could use some lessons,” he teased and pressed his mouth to her forehead. “Until you refused my rescue, I did not plan to be your husband.”

It took a moment for the words to sink in. “What do you mean, ‘I did not plan to be your husband?’ We were betrothed.”

Gabriel lay back and stared up at the ceiling. Sarah pushed onto her elbow and scanned his face. “Gabriel?”

He expelled a breath. “We were never betrothed. Albert only asked that I watch over you. When you refused my help, I took it upon myself to coerce the marriage. To do so was impulsive and deceitful. However, I was certain without the betrothal, you would refuse to come with me to London and I would fail Albert. Fail you. I thought I had no other choice.”

Scrambling onto her knees, she pulled the sheet up to cover her nakedness. “You lied to me? You used my dead brother to force me to wed you?”

“Sarah—” He reached for her.

“Noooo.” She scrambled off the bed. “Do not touch me.” She tucked the sheet around her and struggled with the overwhelming sense of betrayal.

“Sarah, I’m sorry.”

She met his eyes and felt the last hour of happiness rip out from under her. “You led me to believe our marriage was my brother’s last wish. How could you?” She did not wait for his answer. With a sob caught in her throat, she whirled around and fled with her heart shattering.

* * *

G
abe winced at the sound of her door slam and the lock click into place behind her. He swore, rolled from the bed, and padded across to close his own door, lest a hapless maid stumble across him bare assed and half erect.

He wanted to go to Sarah and try to explain his reasons, try to make her understand the duty he felt to her brother, who was like a brother to him, to protect her even if he sacrificed his own freedom. He wanted to kiss away her anger and spend the rest of the night proving he was not the bastard she thought he was. He wanted to remove the hurt from her eyes.

Taking a step forward, he reached the door then stopped. His attempts to make things right would not be welcome. She was hurt and angry. No words would soothe her.

Damn! This was not the way he wanted the evening to end!

Worse, he’d betrayed his wife in the most callous of ways, by making her believe a lie, rather than offering her a choice; come with him to London and hand her over to his mother’s care or marriage to him.

Why had he not given her that choice?

Gabe retrieved her discarded towel and wrapped the damp cloth around his waist. He went to the window and peered out, past his reflection to the garden and the street beyond. A misty rain fell, dampening the street, forming puddles that reflected the dim light of the streetlamps.

Guilt wedged into his twisting gut. He’d made a mess of nearly everything since he’d shown up on her doorstep. And when their marriage finally came together, he’d ruined their first loving moment with his badly timed confession.

Sarah hated him now and he hadn’t a clue how to fix the damage.

Chapter Fifteen

W
hy?” Sarah jerked on her nightdress and paced. She thought of the days since their marriage and the growing bond between them, forged by a brother who wanted the union between his closest friend and sister. Or so she’d been led to believe.

“A lie,” she cried. “All lies.”

Their match had not been made by Albert. He’d never asked Gabriel to marry her. Why, when drawing his last breaths, had he not asked the man he trusted most to accept the ultimate favor? Marriage to his sister.

“Doubtless, he’d seen something in Gabriel’s character and warned him away from me. And tonight—” She could not finish the thought. She could still feel his mouth, his hands, smell his scent on her skin. She’d gone willingly into the bed of Albert’s betrayer and shared the most intimate acts, all while living in a place of ignorance.

What a fool she’d been.

Sarah ripped off the nightdress, climbed into the cool water of the tub, and scrubbed Gabriel from her body.

* * *

T
hat night, sleep gave her no relief. Sarah rose the next morning and splashed some tepid water over her face. She followed up with a bit of powder, hoping to hide the last vestiges of the devastating end to a most perfect evening.

Gabriel had betrayed both her and Albert. What sort of man would do such a thing? Had she been wrong about him from the first? Had she missed seeing darkness inside the true Gabriel, hidden behind his handsome face?

“Will you be going to the town house today, miss?” Flora held up a pair of serviceable stockings for her inspection.

“I will.” Sarah took a seat at the dressing table. “I think the brown dress should serve. The new drapes arrive today. Dust will swirl when the old drapes come down.”

She let her mind drift back to her traitorous husband while Flora readied her for the day.

Truthfully, Gabriel’s betrayal had less to do with her than her brother. He’d had no loyalty to her, a stranger, when he’d come to her cottage. To know he could use a dead friend to get his way showed a flaw in his character.

How could she ever trust his word?

With her toilet complete, she joined the family for breakfast. “Good morning, Lord and Lady Seymour. Gabriel.”

If he heard ice in her voice, he did not acknowledge the chill. She received a reserved good morning in return.

The countess looked through a stack of invitations. “You were quite a success at the ball, Sarah. Everyone wants you at their soirees.”

“Hmmm.” Sarah filled her plate and sat as far from Gabriel as possible without drawing the curiosity of his parents.

The food had to be forced down.

“What are your plans for the day?” Lady Seymour asked.

“We have new drapes arriving as well as fabric to replace the worn covers on two of the settees. After today, only the floors will be left to polish, the windows washed, and the house will be ready to move into.”

“Excellent. I cannot wait to visit your new home,” Lady Seymour said. “Though I will miss your company, I understand the desire for a newly married couple to want their privacy.”

Privacy with Gabriel was the last thing Sarah wanted. When Lady Seymour looked away, she took a bite of ham and cast a shaming glance at her husband. Unfortunately, he seemed lost in the newspaper and missed her glare.

Still, she could not change her mind about moving without rousing suspicion. “Of course you may come anytime,” she said. “Gabriel and I look forward to having a home of our own.”

Gabriel lowered the paper and was rewarded with a curt dismissal. She turned pointedly away.

If he hadn’t felt the strength of her ire last evening, her actions showed she was not in a forgiving mood.

“All those rooms will not be empty long. Soon you’ll fill them with my grandchildren,” the countess continued, unaware of the storm brewing inside Sarah.

The hopefulness in her eyes made Sarah wince inwardly. She could not tolerate her husband. How could she bear his offspring?

“Kathleen,” Lord Seymour interjected. “Leave the children alone. Let them settle in before you push that issue.”

Lady Seymour shrugged. “Can I help that I want more grandchildren? I have one grandson who lives too far away to visit often, and Simon and Laura have not yet given us that happy news. Is it wrong to long to fill this house with grandchildren?”

Sarah put her hands in her lap and closed them into fists for patience. She wanted to tell the Lord and Lady that she had no intention of adding to the Harrington brood. Ever. She hated their son to the deepest part of her and would never again share his bed while there was still life in her body.

Instead, she forced a smile. “Children come on their own time. They will not be rushed.”

The topic was allowed to fade as Lady Seymour questioned Sarah more about the town house. After the meal ended, Sarah called for a carriage and driver and fled. She did not want to risk a private encounter with Gabriel while her anger still sizzled through her, out of fear she might break something over his head.

The household bustled with activity an hour later when the new drapes arrived. As she’d expected, the old ones, having been neglected for ten years, were covered with dust. Sarah insisted on opening the windows, despite the inclement weather, to keep the servants and herself from falling into coughing fits.

“What shall we do with the old drapes?” the maid, Merrie, asked, her arms weighted with soiled fabric.

“When it stops raining, beat them out and donate them,” Sarah said. “I am certain that a children’s charity can put the fabric to good use.”

Noelle and Laura arrived in short order. They stood with Sarah in the doorway of the parlor as the workers removed the faded flower coverings of the two settees and replaced them with fabric in a pretty blue-and-gold-striped pattern.

“I love the colors,” Laura exclaimed. “They match perfectly with your new blue drapes.”

Sarah agreed. The fabric was well chosen. “I wanted to decorate in a way that Gabriel would be comfortable with.” She’d made the selection before their fight. She should have gone with a pink floral pattern on every available surface . . . and the walls as well, just to spite him.

At the moment, she did not care if he lived the rest of his days with his parents, or how many tongues wagged about their rift!

“I may just make over my parlor in these colors, too,” Noelle jested. “We can have matching rooms.”

A loud bang sounded from above. “Oh dear.” The three women hurried from the room. When they arrived in the upstairs parlor, they discovered that part of the fireplace mantel had ripped away from the wall. Broken pieces of wood were scattered across the floor.

Two footmen and a maid stood nearby gaping at the wreckage. Sarah placed a hand to her chest. “What happened here?”

The maid wrung her hands. “I was polishing the mantel and it broke. It was an accident, Mrs. Harrington!”

One of the footmen picked up a piece of oak. “The wood is rotted.” He pointed up to a stain on the ceiling. “I think rainwater leaked through the ceiling and down the wall.” He broke off another chunk and brought it to Sarah. “The damage is long-standing. Years is my guess.”

The piece all but crumbled in her hands. Sarah had not previously noticed the damage when inspecting the premises. The well-built structure had hidden its abuse.

“I see your point.” The plaster ceiling was slightly bowed where he indicated. “It appears that we may need repairs to the fireplace, the ceiling, and the roof. We should see what the floor above looks like.”

Sarah, Noelle, and Laura climbed the stairs to the fourth-floor attic and found similar damage to the ceiling there. The rain had leaked down two levels and seeped through the wood floor above the parlor. She pushed down on it with her foot. The floor moved.

“This floor will have to be pulled up and replaced.” Sarah frowned. “The repairs will be costly.”

“You should be pleased the damage was not worse,” Laura said, trying to be helpful. “Ten years of neglect and a roof leak and damaged floor is the worst of it. Thankfully, the house is not overrun with rats.”

Noelle shuddered. “Yes, rats would be worse.”

Nodding in agreement, Sarah went off to speak with the men Gabriel hired to do repairs. Once the work order was completed, she returned to the ladies. Knowing everything was moving smoothly, Sarah allowed herself to be talked into a brief sojourn out for ices. When they arrived back at the house, Noelle and Laura left her to her work.

To her surprise, she found Gabriel alone in the library, his coat removed, moving books around and tapping the walls behind the shelves with his knuckles. She crossed her arms and watched him for a moment. Then she asked, “Are you checking for mice?”

He didn’t bother to turn around. “I am searching a secret panel where your father may have hidden his private papers.”

She stepped into the room. He had her interest. She walked over to him. Curiosity overcame the desire to snub him. “So you do believe there is something to Mister Brown’s story?”

“Don’t you?”

“Truthfully, I have not thought much about the reason for his murder, outside of wanting his killer caught,” she admitted. “I assumed Mister Brown would come to us if he found further information. Since he hasn’t, I concluded that there is nothing to worry myself over.”

Gabriel slid a pair of books back into place. “I would not be so quick to dismiss his thoughts about your father’s secrets. Someone was in the house before we took possession. I found boot prints in the grime.”

Beneath her gown, her stomach tightened. “You think the trespasser might be the same person who burned the cottage?”

“I cannot say.” He pulled a handful of books out and set them on a nearby table. “But someone was curious enough to break into the house and have a look around.”

The tapping began again. A new thought came to mind. “Is this why you agreed to move in here? Not because you wanted to live here with me but because you wanted the freedom to freely search the house?”

Was his quick capitulation another manipulation? Was this all about solving the case and being a hero?

He glanced back at her. “Partially,” he admitted. “I also think we need a home of our own.”

“I am rethinking the move,” she said, her voice tight. “Perhaps we should sell the house and stay with your parents.”

A deep sigh followed. “Am I ever to be forgiven?”

“Do you deserve forgiveness?”

Gabriel put the books back and turned. “I admit to making a mistake in judgment. I thought marriage the best way to protect you. After you tried to run me off, I took a desperate path. I could not leave you there and risk your neck.”

“And you lied to achieve your goal on the words of my dead brother.” He had the good sense to grimace. “How am I to trust you will not lie to or betray me again?”

“I explained my reasons. I cannot do more to convince you to trust or forgive me.” He straightened the books. “The fire proved that Albert had a reason to worry. Had I left you there, you may have perished. Certainly that is enough to earn some forgiveness.”

The point was taken. Still. “At the time you pushed the marriage, any danger was speculative at best. That argument is only true when looking backward through the lens of recent events.” She paused. “Can I trust when you say you are with friends and not seeking out other women? Can I trust when you say you are not gambling away your fortune when you go to a club, or that you are not participating in illegal activities . . . like smuggling? I truly do not know you at all.”

“You are being unreasonable,” he grumbled.

“Am I?” She crossed her arms again.

His body tensed. He reached up and swept out his arm, knocking an entire row of books to the floor. Sarah winced but held fast.

“Albert
was
my friend. I would have given my life for him.” He spun and closed the distance between them. “Do you think I wanted to marry you? I did not. But I sacrificed my freedom to fulfill my promise to protect you. Had you not been so stubborn, willing to starve to death to keep your pride, I’d not have lied to you and pressed the matter.” He took a deep breath. “I would marry you again if only out of loyalty to your brother.”

Sacrificed his freedom? He’d only marry her again out of loyalty to her brother? Deep in her chest, her heart squeezed. She
was
a duty. His cold words confirmed her fear.

“I did not want to marry you either,” she whispered. “Though, I would not marry you again given the choice.” With that, she turned and walked stiffly from the room.

Once in the hallway, she stomped up the stairs and slammed the door to the master bedroom. Childish, she knew, but it felt good to hear the sound rattle through the house. Then, just as quickly, her eyes tipped up. Thankfully, there was no sign that the ceiling was about to fall on her head.

The damage seemed limited to the upstairs parlor.

She sat on the bed. “What a tangle my life has become.”

Everything Gabriel said was true. Well, most anyway. She’d not have married him any other way. Her hurt came from his lack of feeling for her after weeks together. Any affection she’d thought she felt growing between them came from her hope for it to be so and not from any confirmation on his part.

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