To Love a Lord (31 page)

She arched her neck and borrowed the support of the hard plaster. “What hold do you have upon me, Jane Munroe?” he rasped as he dragged a trail of kisses along the column of her throat. He nipped at the tender flesh where her pulse beat maddeningly for him and drew the skin into his mouth, suckling.

“Th-the same hold you have upon me,” she gasped as her eyes slid involuntarily closed. Gabriel moved his lips down the length of her neck, lower, to the swell of her décolletage. She fisted her hands in his hair and bit her lip hard as he touched his mouth to her skin. “I never knew I could feel like this,” she whispered as he continued to worship her with his searching caresses.

“Neither did I.” His breath came in deep, gasping breaths.

He returned his mouth to hers and she gave herself over to the power of his kiss. Their tongues danced in a forbidden ritual of lovers, thrust and parry, thrust and parry. Gabriel cupped her breast, molding his palm to the full contour and she bit her lip to keep from crying out. She brought trembling hands to his hair, once again to hold him in place and never let go. Her lashes drifted closed and she, who’d fought this enigmatic pull he’d had upon her since their first meeting, let herself free to it—to him, to the possibility of them. “I love you,” she whispered.

He stopped; his head bent over her breast. His rapid breath warmed her skin.

“I love you,” she repeated when he still said nothing. She braced for the sudden rush of terror that making such an admission should cost her and yet it did not come. Days, weeks, or years, it mattered not how long a person knew another person; it mattered about the goodness of their soul and their hold upon a heart. Somehow, he’d shattered her resolve to protect her heart and live a life dependent upon no one but herself.

Gabriel’s body went taut and he released her with such alacrity, she would have stumbled if the wall hadn’t been at her back. Her chest rose and fell with the force of her breaths. He shook his head back and forth in a slow, repetitive manner.

She nodded. “I do,” she whispered and held her palms up. “I love—”

“Do not.” That harsh command cut across her declaration and killed the sentiments on her lips.

Her heart twisted at the horror stamped on the lines of his face. She managed a small smile and imagined it was a weak, pathetic attempt. “Not saying those words does not make them untrue, Gabriel.”

He took a step away from her, and then another, and another, until his legs knocked against the chair. With fingers that shook, he raked a hand through his tousled dark curls. “You d—”

“Yes,” she nodded. “Yes, I do.”

“You don’t even like me.” There was an entreaty in those five words that if her heart weren’t breaking even now at his response, would have brought her to laughter.

She pushed the door closed, and toyed with the handle a moment, fixating on the shiny gold metal. “Am I a whore because my mother was?”

“Do not even say that,” he snapped out with a steely anger that stole the remainder of her heart.

Jane turned back to face him. “But isn’t that the company I keep? By your own admission of your status and worth, shouldn’t my value be weighed in a like manner?”

“It is not the same.” He swiped a hand over his face.

“Isn’t it?” She pushed away from the door and took a step toward him. “You cannot be a hypocrite and hold me above my birthright, and then not do the same for yourself.”

“You don’t love me,” he said over her, not seeming to hear her words.

“I do,” she said taking another step toward him.

A muscle jumped at the corner of his right eye. “You’d agreed to a marriage of convenience.” He paused. “Not even a day ago.” There was an accusatory bite to his words. “You are confusing gratitude with—”

She narrowed her eyes. “Do not even finish that, Gabriel Garmund Randolph Edgerton,” she said, grateful more than ever for the entirety of that grand name.

He wisely snapped his mouth closed.

“I may love you, but you still infuriate the blazes out of me with your high-handedness.” Jane took a deep breath and closed the distance between them. If he’d not already been prevented backward movement by the upholstered sofa, she’d wager all of her three thousand pounds he’d have retreated faster than Boney on his march through Russia. She placed her palms on his jacket and smoothed the lapels. His body went taut under her touch. “I know you do not love me.” She paused for a fraction of a moment, hoping with a small tiny part of her soul she’d only just discovered existed that he’d issue a protestation. But it did not come. The muscles of her stomach tightened painfully. Oh, God. In this loving a man who’d never return those sentiments, she’d become her mother. “I do not expect anything more from you than the security you provide.” And with those words, she became more her mother than she’d ever dreamed herself to be.

*

Gabriel closed his eyes a moment. With Jane’s nearness, the scent of lavender and honey that clung to her skin wafted about him until he was drunk on the fragrance of summer. Her hands upon his person coupled with her admission, sucked at his. She loved him. He pressed his palms over his face and drew in a slow breath.

What she asked, what she would inevitably expect would require a piece of him that he could not give. He wanted no part of caring for anyone else.
Except, now she is yours to care for, forever
.
Finishing school or no finishing school. Until death do us part…
“This is not what we had agreed to,” he repeated those desperate words, ripped from deep within his chest. For with their vows sealed, the permanency of their decision registered.

And now there was love. Her love. With anything more of their marriage would come children and just more people to care for and more people to fail—“I cannot give you what you,”
deserve
. “Hope for,” he said. His thick tongue made words difficult.

Her hands fluttered back to her side. “I’m not asking you for anything.”

In telling him, however, she did ask more of him. Expected more. Gabriel sidled away from her. His feet twitched with an involuntary urge to flee. “Jane, I will care for you, but I cannot,” his mind balked at finishing those words.

“Love me,” she said softly. A sad, little smile played about her bow-shaped lips. “Care for me?” she repeated those words back to herself. “Funny how one can care for a person while not caring about them.”

Her words wrenched at his heart and ripped the blasted organ that had ceased to beat for over thirty years. She cleared her throat and took several steps away from him. He mourned the loss of her nearness. “We should join your family.” Jane turned on her heel and started for the door.

Gabriel drew in a slow breath and then followed after her. How many other women would have spun on their heels and stormed off, indignant and making demands? Jane moved at a sedate pace and allowed him to reach her side. The synchronized footfall of his boots and her slippers echoed in the corridor, and as they drew nearer to the breakfast room, the cheerful peal of laughter and giggles punctuated the quiet.

They entered the room together and the small collection of his family and Waterson looked up in unison. Their laughter and discourse came to a screeching halt.

In apparent unease, Jane shifted on her feet and he imagined how hard this sudden change of circumstances was for her; a stranger to strange people, ruined and swiftly wedded and now part of his family’s fold. God, she was brave. He reached for her hand just as Imogen shoved back her chair and sprinted over. Gabriel immediately let his hand fall to his side.

“Jane!” Imogen greeted and took his bride by the elbow and gently guided her to the table. His bride. A loud humming filled his ears and he took a frantic look about the table. His gaze collided with Alex’s.

You can’t even say the word…

The wry grin on his brother’s lips indicated he even now had detected Gabriel’s tumult.

“Do you intend to stand and stare at the door all day?” Chloe piped in, cutting into his musings. “Or will you join the breakfast?”

Jane cast a glance back at him and he gave her a slight nod, intending for her to know he was here, that these people were different than the beasts they’d both known. A servant pulled out the mahogany shell-backed chair and she slid into the seat. Gabriel hurried and sat beside her.

And just like that, the stilted awkwardness was replaced by the cacophony of discussion and laughter. He swiped his glass of wine and took a long sip. From the corner of his eye, he studied his wife. She spoke with a matter of fact shame about the origins of her birth, but for her strength and proud bearing of her frame, she had the regality of a queen.

She stilled, as though feeling his gaze upon her, and then looked up. He braced for the hurt and regret in her eyes, but there was merely the spirited glimmer he’d come to expect from the silver flecks. Jane leaned close. “You needn’t worry, Gabriel. I will not have unfair expectations of you simply because I love you.”
Simply because I love you
. His own siblings barely loved him and for very good reasons.

He was spared from formulating a reply, as servants rushed forward with platters of food, diverting her attention. Yet, as he sat there, he wished he could be everything Jane deserved.

H
aving been the daughter of a duke’s mistress, Society and servants alike surely expected that one such as she would have learned her mother’s tricks and inherited her wanton ways.

Yet, with nothing more than Mrs. Wollstonecraft’s book for company on her wedding night, Jane reflected with a droll amusement on the fact that she: one, didn’t have an inkling as to what truly transpired between a man and woman on one’s wedding night and two, that it didn’t really matter, for hers would never truly be a wedding night.

With a sigh, she pulled her knees up and flipped open her copy of
A Vindication of the Rights of Woman
to the folded and marked page. She instantly located the familiar portion of text and mouthed the long ago memorized words.

“…Whilst they are absolutely dependent on their husbands wives will be cunning, mean, and selfish, and the men who can be gratified by the fawning fondness of spaniel-like affection, have not much delicacy, for love is not to be bought, in any sense of the word, its silken wings are instantly shriveled up when anything beside a return in kind is sought.

She sat back in her seat and leaned against the wall. Those words took on an altogether new meaning. A love that was not bought, for if it was, the sentiment would shrivel and die. Her mother had been bought. And now so had she. How had she failed to see that? How, until Gabriel had kissed her in his brother’s parlor, did she not realize that she’d sacrificed her future to secure her future? Her mother had shiny baubles and satin skirts. Jane would have her finishing school. Neither knew love, and she never would, by her husband’s horror at her admission.

A knock sounded at the door and she glanced up. Her heart climbed, and then Chloe entered the room, and Jane’s heart slipped all the way down to her toes. “Chloe,” she said softly as she took in the usually cheerful woman’s drawn features. She squinted into the dark at the ormolu clock atop the fireplace mantel. “It is late. Is everything all right?” She jumped to her feet. “Is it your head?”

Chloe pushed the door closed and waved. “No, it is not another of my megrims.” She walked with a brisk clip over to Jane and then stopped before her. “It is Gabriel.”

She looked about, her heart thundering hard once again.

“He is not here,” the young woman said, interpreting Jane’s question.

Sleep had eluded her, and since they’d returned from the lavish wedding breakfast thrown by Lord Alex and his wife, Gabriel had disappeared. Unknowing how else to respond, Jane merely uttered, “Oh.” Of course he was not here. The office had been empty and quiet from the moment she’d retired for the evening.

Chloe gave her head a firm shake and pursed her lips. “You misunderstand me, Jane. He is not here. He is,” she slashed the air with an angry hand. “He is gone out to his clubs or…wherever else it is gentlemen go,” she said furiously.

Jane drew back to prevent from being hit by one of those wildly gesticulating hands. The young woman’s words registered and pain knifed through her heart. It should not matter. Gabriel had already been abundantly clear that theirs was to be a marriage in name only. Yet foolishly she’d believed, nay
hoped
, there would be more…that there would be a real marriage and a wedding night and—

With a growl, Chloe planted her arms akimbo. “You are not to look like that.”

She cocked her head.

“Dejected,” Chloe supplied. “You should be livid. Why, it is bad enough he’s allowed me to remain here so that you can’t…be alone as husband and wife.” Most young ladies would have been blushing red after having uttered those words.

A strangled laugh bubbled up and lodged in her throat. Oh, God love Chloe. She no longer knew whether to laugh or cry.

Chloe made a sound of sympathy and then patted Jane’s shoulder. “Don’t cry, please don’t cry.”