Yours Until Dawn (25 page)

But it was Gabriel who broke the tense silence. “Why the sudden change, Doctor? Before last night, I couldn’t make any sort of distinction between light and shadow.”

Tucking the iron device back in his bag, Dr. Gilby shook his head. “We may never know. I suspect the sharp blow to the head dislodged a clot of blood that could have taken months to dissolve on its own, if indeed it ever did.”

Gabriel gingerly fingered the gash on his temple. “I should have ordered my butler to whack me over the head with one of my walking sticks a long time ago.”

Samantha wanted to go to him, to wrap her arms around him and press a tender kiss to that wound he had earned on her behalf.

She had no right to touch him, but she could ask the one question that hung unspoken in the air. The question everyone else was too afraid to ask.

“Will he see again?”

The doctor patted Gabriel on the shoulder, his blue eyes twinkling. “It may be a few days or a few weeks before your mind is able to make out more than shadows and shapes, son, but I have every reason to believe that you’re going to make a full recovery.”

Samantha clapped a hand to her mouth to catch an involuntary sob.

Letting out a joyful whoop, Honoria threw her arms around Gabriel’s neck. The rest of his family crowded around him—Eugenia, Valerie, and his mother smothering him in their perfumed embraces while his father clapped him heartily on the back. Even Sam jumped up to join the happy fray, adding his shrill bark to the merry burst of chatter and laughter.

Samantha glanced over to find Mrs. Philpot in Beckwith’s arms, her narrow back shaking with emotion. As the butler met Samantha’s gaze over the housekeeper’s shoulder, she would have almost sworn she saw a glimmer of sympathy in his eyes.

She rose and slipped from the room, knowing she no longer had any place there. She mounted the stairs to the second floor, keeping her chin high and her spine straight in case any of the other servants were watching. Finally reaching the refuge of her bedchamber, she closed and bolted the door behind her.

Keeping a hand clamped over her mouth to muffle her sobs, she slid down the door, a sharp pang of mingled joy and grief bending her almost double. Even as the tears began to spill over the back of her hand, she could not have said if she was crying for Gabriel or for herself.

Samantha sat on the edge of the bed in her night-dress, methodically braiding her hair. That was all she’d been doing since barricading herself in her bedchamber that morning—going through the motions of living. When Mrs. Philpot had sent Elsie up with a supper tray, she had dutifully eaten every spoonful of the hearty kale soup, although she wanted nothing more than to pour it out the window. If she could just keep living one moment at a time, then perhaps she wouldn’t have to face the future.

A future without Gabriel.

Her fingers faltered. The half-braided strand of hair slipped through her hands. She could no longer deny the truth. Her work here was done. Gabriel had no further need of her. He was back where he belonged—in the loving arms of his family.

Climbing down from the bed, she went to the armoire and dragged out her battered leather portmanteau. She propped it open beside the bed before unlatching the lid of her trunk.

She never thought she’d wax nostalgic over the ugly serges and sensible wool stockings she’d been wearing since arriving at Fairchild Park, but suddenly she wanted nothing more than to bury her face in them and weep. Gently easing them aside, she fished out a single clean chemise and petticoat and tucked them into the portmanteau along with a slim volume of Marlowe’s poetry. She was about to close the trunk when a creamy corner of stationery caught her eye.

Gabriel’s letters.

She had tried to bury them so deep they would never surface. Yet here they were again, as compelling and irresistible as they had been on the day they were received.

Samantha tugged the ribbon-bound bundle into her hands, letting the trunk fall shut. She moved to sit on the side of the bed, running her fingertips over paper so worn from repeated handling that it threatened to crumble beneath her touch. She could imagine Gabriel caressing the fine linen with his strong hands, weighing each word as if it were gold.

She knew she would hate herself later, but she could not resist loosening the ribbon that bound them. Just as she was unfolding the first letter and holding it up to the light of the tallow candle that burned on the table next to her bed, a knock sounded on the door.

Samantha jumped to her feet with a guilty start. She frantically scanned the room, then kicked the portmanteau under the bed. She was halfway to the door before she remembered the letters clutched in her hand.

The knock came again, its impatient edge unmistakable.

“One moment, please!” she cried out before rushing back to the bed and shoving the letters under the mattress.

She swung open the door to find Gabriel standing there, garbed only in a dressing gown of forest-green silk. Before she could utter a word, he reached for her. Cupping her face in his hands, he swept his tongue into her mouth, kissing her with a fierce tenderness that stole her breath away. By the time he dragged his lips away from hers, she was dizzy with desire.

“And a good evening to you, too, my lord,” she whispered, still swaying on her feet.

Pushing her aside, Gabriel charged into the room. He slammed the door behind him and leaned against it.

“What is it?” Samantha cast the door a worried glance. “Are you being pursued by barbarian hordes?”

“Worse. It’s my family.” He ran a hand through his already tousled hair. “They’ve settled into the mansion like a flock of pigeons. I thought I was never going to elude them. Do you know how hard it is to sneak past someone you can’t see?”

Thankful that he also couldn’t see her swollen eyes and the tear stains on her cheeks, she said lightly, “According to Dr. Gilby, you won’t have to worry about that much longer, will you?”

He shook his head as if he still couldn’t quite comprehend his good fortune. “Amazing, isn’t it? But do you want to know the most astonishing thing of all?” He reached for her again, his seeking hand closing around her slender wrist. “When Dr. Gilby told me that I would make a full recovery, I realized the thing I wanted to see most in the world was your sweet face.”

Samantha turned that face away from him. “I fear you might be sorely disappointed.”

“That’s quite impossible.” All traces of humor disappeared from his voice, leaving it curiously somber. “You could never disappoint me.”

Biting her lip, she tugged her wrist from his grasp and moved out of his reach. She was less afraid that he might start kissing her again than of what she might do if he did. “To what do I owe the honor of this rather unconventional visit?”

Gabriel leaned against the door and folded his arms over his chest, his convincing leer sending a delicious shiver down her spine. “Don’t play the innocent with me, Miss Wickersham. I’m hardly the first lord of the manor to sneak into the bedchamber of his most irresistible servant.”

“Wasn’t it you, my lord, who told me you weren’t in the habit of forcing your attentions on the females in your employ?”

Pushing himself away from the door, Gabriel moved toward the sound of her voice with the grace of a prowling panther. “Why would I need force when seduction is so much more effective? And so much more”—his lips caressed the word—“pleasurable.”

Samantha began to back away from him, fearing this more playful Gabriel was even more of a danger to her heart. Yet at the same time, she could not resist joining in the game. “You should know by now that I’m not the sort of woman to be seduced by expensive baubles, a few flowery words, or some extravagant promises made in the heat of the moment. Neither my body nor my heart is so cheaply won.”

As Gabriel’s shadow fell over her, the back of her knees struck the bed. He pressed a hand to her chest, sending her tumbling back into it. Before she could protest, he followed her down, gently cupping her cheek in one of his big hands. “I haven’t any baubles on me at the moment, but what if I promise to make you my wife and love you for the rest of our days?”

My darling Cecily,

Every minute seems an eternity while I await your reply…

“H
ave you gone stark raving mad?” Samantha shoved at Gabriel’s chest with enough force to send him tumbling clear off the bed and onto the floor.

He sat up, looking bewildered. “I never realized it was so much safer to propose by letter.”

Bouncing off the bed, Samantha began to pace the small room, her frantic strides reflecting the turmoil in her heart. “Perhaps the blow to your head affected more than your vision, my lord. Perhaps it affected your memory as well. Because you seem to have forgotten that
you
are an earl—a peer of the realm—while
I
am a mere servant.”

“What you are, Samantha—”

She whirled around to face him. “
Miss
Wickersham!”

A half-smile played around his beautifully chiseled lips, only infuriating her further. “What you are,
Miss
Wickersham, is the woman I adore and intend to make my wife.”

She threw her hands up in the air. “There’s no help for you, then, is there? You’re regaining your sight only to lose your mind.”

“Has it occurred to you that you have no choice but to marry me?”

“Why would you say such a thing?”

“Because I’ve already compromised you. Or have you forgotten?”

She could tell by the challenging set of his mouth that he knew there would be no forgetting the shameless way her body had wept beneath his hand, the shudders of pleasure that had wracked her to the core. She would carry that memory to her grave.

“I release you from any obligation. There’s no reason you should spend the rest of your life paying for a…a foolish indiscretion.”

He arched one tawny eyebrow. “Is that all last night was to you? An indiscretion?”

Unable to come up with a convincing denial, Samantha resumed her pacing. “I’m sure your mother would have been horrified had she known you proposed to that baronet’s daughter. What would she say if you told her you intended to marry your nurse?”

Gabriel reached for the hem of her nightdress as she swept past him, tugging her into his lap. He wrapped his strong arms around her, making any thought of escape impossible. “Why don’t you come with me right now and we’ll find out?”

Her squirming only settled her deeper into his embrace. “You’ll give the poor woman an apoplexy! Why, the news would probably kill her! Or me,” she added grimly.

He laughed. “She really isn’t the dragon she pretends to be. As a matter of fact, when we first met, I noticed a marked similarity in your—”

Samantha clapped a hand over his mouth. “Don’t say it! Don’t you dare say it!”

Still laughing, Gabriel tugged her hand from his lips. “I’m sure you’ll grow to love her someday.” Both his grip and his voice softened as the sparkle of mischief faded from his eyes, leaving them glowing with a tender light. “After all, she is going to be the grandmother of your children.”

Gabriel’s words slid like a knife into Samantha’s heart, giving her a glimpse into a future she could never share. She blinked back a rush of tears. She might not have tomorrow, but she could have tonight.

“I was wrong,” she whispered.

He frowned. “About what?”

“I
am
the sort of woman who can be seduced by flowery words and extravagant promises.” Cupping his cheek in her hand, she lifted her face to his.

As Gabriel felt the softness of Samantha’s lips flower beneath his, it was as if a light dawned somewhere in his soul. Curling an arm beneath her hips, he lifted her to the narrow iron bedstead, laying her back among the rumpled sheets.

He knew he should wait until after they were wed. But he’d been waiting so long for this moment—for more than a lifetime, it seemed.

“Wait,” she said, nearly stopping his heart. “I just want to put the candle out.”

He waited until she was back in his arms before murmuring, “I don’t need the candle anyway. All I need is you.”

Finding the hem of her nightdress, Gabriel gently tugged it over her head. In that moment, he felt like a bridegroom. Knowing that Samantha was naked beneath him, that he could spend all night exploring the exquisite treasures of her body, made his mouth go dry and his hands shake with longing.

It had been so long since he’d held a naked woman in his arms. Even before Trafalgar, he’d spent months of self-imposed celibacy longing for Cecily. While the other sailors aboard the
Victory
had satisfied their cruder urges with harbor prostitutes during their brief stints ashore, he had remained aboard the ship rereading Cecily’s letters. Although his body had burned for release, he had been content to let it smolder while he dreamed of the day when they would be reunited. If he had known that day would never come, he still would have been willing to wait for this moment. For Samantha.

Gabriel unknotted the sash of his dressing gown and shrugged it off of his shoulders, desperate to be skin to skin with her, flesh to flesh. Kissing her as if each kiss would be their last, he glided like raw silk down her body, groaning when his chest encountered the plump softness of her breasts, when his swollen staff brushed the downy curls between her legs. He wanted to bury himself in her right then and there, to seize all the pleasure that had been denied him through those long, lonely months.