Chapter 24

There can be no true happiness until our objective is achieved.

—FromLady's Suffrage Society Times

Silence pervaded as the brougham rumbled through the London streets, taking Helena and Gabe to Wickley House. Her husband's posture was stiff, his jaw tense, as if something weighed heavily upon him. She knew the feeling.

Finally, Helena could bear no more of the quiet, so she broke it. "Did you mean what you said?"

His arresting gaze seared her. He was so beautiful, her heart hurt.

"I meant everything I said, Helena. And far more."

She swallowed. "You are truly pleased to have me as your wife?"

"More than I can properly convey in words." He held out a hand to her. "Come here."

The only place for her to go was his lap.

So Helena went, settling herself gingerly upon his broad thighs, no easy feat given the encumbrances of her skirts and tournure. "I shall crush you."

"Hush." He removed his gloves and then cupped her face. "You are light as a bird, and I cannot bear to have you sitting on the other side of this bloody carriage when you could be right here, where you belong."

Where she belonged? Yes. Oh, yes. She liked the sound of that.

Helena plucked the hat from his head, placing it on the bench at his side, before positioning her hands on his broad shoulders. As always, his warmth and strength seemed to sear her palms. The love she had been carrying for him all this time surged. She could not keep it to herself any longer. But how to tell him, when he believed love was the source of anguish and ruin?

Her heart gave a pang.

"Thank you for dashing off to see Lady Beatrice on my behalf," she said, instead of saying those three terrifying words just yet.

His deep-blue gaze searched hers. "Helena, I will always defend you. As your husband, it is my?—"

She pressed a finger to his lips, silencing him. "Pray do not say duty again. I do not want to be your obligation, Gabe."

He kissed her finger, then plucked it away from his lips so he could continue speaking unimpeded. "I was going to say that as your husband, it is my honor to defend you. I will do anything and everything in my power to protect you and keep you from harm, always. That is my solemn vow to you."

He would defend and protect her, but would he ever love her? Could he ever love her? Helena did not dare to hope. Her love could be enough for the both of them.

"I can defend and protect myself," she told him in lieu of making any dangerous confessions.

"I have no doubt of that." There was a note of pride in his voice that settled into the deepest recesses of her heart. "You are the most daring, brave, strong woman I know. But I am here for you, always. You need never take on the world alone or seek the aid of others instead of me. I am yours."

Hers.

She liked the sound of that as well. Indeed, she had spent years longing for him, wishing, hoping.

"Mine," she repeated, scarcely trusting the word or the implications behind it. Scarcely believing the Earl of Huntingdon could possibly be hers and hers alone. "Truly, Gabe?"

He caught her wrist in a grip that was firm yet gentle and flattened her hand over his heart. Beneath the layers of his clothing, his heart hammered a steady, reassuring thud-thud-thud.

"Yours," he said again. "Forever yours, Helena. Only yours."

She froze, staring at him. Surely he could not mean what her foolish heart hoped to hear? Gabe was not telling her his heart was hers.

Or was he?

"But you wanted to marry Lady Beatrice," she protested shakily. "I forced you into marrying me."

"No one could have forced me to marry you, darling." He caressed her cheek, the expression on his handsome face filled with a new tenderness. "I wanted to marry you. At the time, I was too stubborn to see it for myself. I was also blinded by my past and a promise I never should have made."

She could not look away. He had called her darling. He had said he had wanted to marry her, Helena Davenport. Not Lady Beatrice Knightbridge, the paragon.

"But I lied to Shelbourne," she reminded him.

"You were desperate," he countered, "and I was an idiot."

Tears stung her eyes. "You have never been an idiot."

"Yes, I have." He caressed a path of fire down her throat and slid his hand around to cup her nape. "I was too stupid to realize the perfect wife for me was the one I was chasing all over London. The one I couldn't seem to stop touching or kissing or yearning for. The one who found her way into my heart."

Did he just say what she thought he had said?

His heart? Thump, thump, thump it went beneath her splayed palm. Hers joined, meeting it beat for beat. The time to tell him had arrived. It was now, here, this moment.

This man. This man she had loved for so long.

She took a deep breath. "Gabe, there is something I must tell you."

He caressed her nape, that same expression of profound affection upon his countenance, making her weak, giving her hope. "It is not that you are going to flee for Shropshire without me, is it?"

She smiled at his jest. "No, of course not. If I am ever off to Shropshire, I promise to bring you with me, my lord."

"Nor is it that you regret marrying an oafish prig?" His tone was teasing, but his expression was serious, his eyes intent upon her.

Did he truly hold himself in such low regard? How could he not see he was everything she had ever wanted, the only man for whom she had ever longed?

Helena pursed her lips. "Fortunately, I escaped the fate of marrying an oafish prig by ruining myself so that I would not have to spend the rest of my life tied to Lord Hamish."

"I should have thrown you over my shoulder after your first attempt at ruination and married you then." He leaned forward, bringing their lips deliciously near and yet refraining from kissing her as she so desperately wanted him to do. "It would have spared us both a good deal of trouble and hurt. I ought to have made love to you in this carriage and bound you to me forever."

His words, coupled with his nearness, the warm flow of his breath over her lips, his scent surrounding her, his heart beating beneath her palm, his heat searing her, all combined to make the flesh between her thighs throb. She wanted him there. Wanted him again and again. Wanted to straddle his hips, release him from his trousers, and sink down upon his cock. Wanted him to erase the awfulness of the past two days. To banish the specter of what could have happened.

"Perhaps you should rectify that error in judgment and make love to me now," she dared.

He brushed his lower lip tantalizingly over hers in the most decadent half kiss. "Tell me first."

Her ability to think had been impacted. "Tell you?"

He rubbed their lower lips again. "You said you had something to tell me." And then he punctuated his reminder by kissing the upper bow of her lips.

Oh.So she had. But first, she never wanted this kiss to end.

He deepened the kiss, his heart beating faster now. She kissed him back with all the desire and love she felt for him, trying to show him with actions what she had yet to admit in words.

I love you.

I love you.

I love you.

He nipped her lower lip. "I know you do."

Had she made her confession aloud? Helena jerked her head back, tearing her mouth from his. "I beg your pardon?"

He held her gaze, unwavering. "I know you love me."

She noted the other half of that particular equation was absent. He had not told her he returned her love. The hope which had been building inside her, gathering air and buoyancy like an ascension balloon, went abruptly flat.

It sank all the way to her toes and then fell out of the carriage entirely, to become macerated on the roadway beneath the carriage wheels. What had she expected? A great soliloquy? An earnest declaration from a man who believed marriage should be loveless in order for it to succeed?

Stupid Helena. When will you learn your lesson? The Earl of Huntingdon will never, ever love you.

She swallowed down the lump rising in her throat, willing the tears that threatened her vision to dissipate before she humiliated herself even further. "How do you know?"

Had she somehow given her secret away before now? Had she whispered her love for him in her sleep? There had been the time she had almost revealed her feelings to him when they had made love, but she had stopped herself in time, had she not?

"Shelbourne told me," he admitted. "Do not be angry with him, darling. He told me to aid our union, I suspect, not to cause you any embarrassment."

Embarrassment? Her cheeks were positively aflame. How humiliating. She was going to box her brother's ears for this. She was going to dump all his bawdy books into the nearest water closet. She was going to…

Drat it, Helena. Plot your revenge later. This is important.

"When did he tell you?" she asked, needing to know for the sake of her own pride.

Good Lord, had he always known? Since before they had wed? Humiliation churned through her. How long had he been aware of her pathetic feelings for him without entertaining even the slightest inkling of love for her? And after they had shared so much of themselves with each other, all those endless nights of passion?

"Since I met with him to calm the waters of our friendship," Gabe admitted.

"Since almost the beginning of our marriage," she translated, her mind working out the timing for itself. "You mean to say you knew I loved you all this time?"

"Yes."

One word from those sensual lips of his. Curse him, why did he have to be so dratted handsome? It made holding on to her irritation dreadfully difficult. Nigh impossible, really.

"And yet you felt nothing?" she prodded, needing to know the answer.

"I felt everything." He pressed a kiss to the corner of her lips, the gesture at once sweet and thrilling. "I was terrified of what you made me feel, and I was doing all that was within my power to hold tight to my restraint. To keep you from burrowing so deep into my heart there would be no removing you, regardless of the dangers you presented me."

Helena frowned. "You make me sound as if I am an invasive creature stealing into your garden rather than your wife."

He grinned at her, making new heat flare to life. "Never an invasive creature. I was merely not prepared to accept what you did to me. What you do to me, hellion."

What did this mean? Stupid, fruitless hope was at it once more, trying to rise like a loaf of bread no one would ever slide into the oven. Useless, these feelings. Foolish for her to entertain them. She seized upon the one thing she could, settling for taking him to task.

"I ought to take umbrage at your continued use of that sobriquet," she told him, nettled with herself for the shakiness in her voice.

"Helena, sweet." His other hand cupped her cheek, his thumb traveling over her cheekbone with painstaking affection. "You are a hellion. My hellion. And I love you for it."

She stilled. Her hand remained over his heart, and it was pounding now with furious insistence. So was hers. Once more, words fled her mind. Her lips parted. Sound was reluctant to emerge.

So she breathed in this moment, the carriage swaying around them, her settled in Gabe's lap, his strong hands upon her with such caring, his sky-blue eyes devouring her, his lips so near to hers. This was a moment she would never forget, a moment she had scarcely dared to dream could exist.

"You…love…" Oh, blast. There were the tears, blurring her vision and gathering on her lashes.

She blinked furiously to clear them, but it only sent them rolling down her cheeks in fat trails.

"You, Helena," he finished for her. "I love you. Completely and utterly, in every way, more deeply than I could have fathomed possible."

"But you do not believe a marriage ought to involve love," she could not help but to protest, even as part of her was inwardly shouting at her to keep her concerns and fears to herself. To settle instead for his avowal. For his words of love to be enough.

And yet, she loved him too much to accept any half measures. She had to know the truth, to be certain of it and him as well. She had to believe his love was true and strong, and that he would not seek to banish it in a moment of fear.

"My parents were in love once, and their marriage toppled like a poorly stacked wall of bricks without mortar. I was raised in the shadow of that failed union, and my grandfather taught me to believe that love was the reason for its demise." Gabe paused, seeming to collect his thoughts. "I have spent so long believing that what I needed was a loveless union based upon mutual respect, a bloodless society marriage such as my grandparents enjoyed. So long believing love was the reason for all my parents' woes and for all the devastation that came after."

His admission was raw, and her heart ached for him anew. "What changed for you?"

If anything?

But she kept the last question to herself, too terrified to ask it.

"You changed," he said, taking her by surprise. "You changed me, Helena. I have been in love with you for years, and for years, I have been fighting the feelings, tamping them down, dismissing them. But I realized that I am fighting a losing battle, a battle I no longer want to win. I surrender, hellion. To you. To love. To us."

Us, he had said.

Yes, oh yes.She liked the sound of that very much. Her husband was exceeding her every hope and it was too good to be true. Had he just officially surrendered?

To her?

She grinned at him. "I was not aware this was a war between us."

"Mayhap a war of my own making." He grimaced. "A war of the past and the present, of old ghosts and new."

Helena shook her head. "I do not want to go to battle with you, Gabe. I just want to love you. I have always wanted to love you, from the first I saw you."

"God, woman." He pressed his forehead to hers, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply. "You undo me. You complete me."

This was what she wanted to hear. What she had spent years dreaming she would hear. From these lips. Helena could not wait a moment more. She lowered her head and captured his mouth with hers.

Helena's lips were on his, moving in a sweetly possessive kiss. He tugged her head lower, deepening the pressure, devouring her as best as he could. She was intoxicating. Delicious. Everything he had always wanted and everything he had been warned against.

And yet, she was his wife.

She had done all she could today to protect him. For him, she would have placed herself in a position of potentially great danger. Just the thought of Lord Algernon Forsyte ever so much as laying a finger upon her was enough to make Gabe haul her closer, crushing her against him. He kissed her as if he could forever claim her with his lips.

Because he intended to. There was no more fighting the way he felt for her. What was the sense in pretending he was not hopelessly, helplessly in his wife's thrall? He was. He had been at her mercy for longer than he had even realized.

He loved her.

That was the strange sensation he had not been able to shake, ever since the day their paths had first crossed, on that long-ago country house weekend when he had accompanied his old school chum on the hunt. He had found a spirited young lady with golden hair, emerald eyes, and a flashing, quick wit.

She had been what he had wanted, all this time. And for so long, he had resisted.

As he slid his tongue into her mouth and deepened the kiss, he mourned all the time he had wasted. What he had once been convinced was the correct path for him to trod had been proven, beyond a doubt, to be a farce today. The woman Grandfather had deemed to be a perfect countess—the same woman who had encouraged Gabe to take a mistress rather than bed her—had conspired against Helena. He could not bear to think of what she could have endured as a result.

It was too much.

He needed his wife. He needed Helena, of the white-blonde hair and the enchanting freckles on her dainty nose and the tiniest gap between her front teeth and the lips that knew just how to kiss his, the body that was meant for his, the heart that beat to the same rhythm.

The woman who loved him.

He had held the knowledge of Helena's feelings deep within himself for so long, terrified of what it meant. Afraid to embrace it as he longed to do. But here and now, in this moment, with the woman he loved in his lap and her mouth on his, he could celebrate both her love and his.

They would not be bound by the constraints of the past. He knew that now. Rather, they would be shaped by the hopes of the future. Their future.

Together.

A rapping on the carriage alerted him, belatedly, to the fact that they had rolled to a stop. Reluctantly, Gabe tore his mouth from Helena's. A glance out the window confirmed they had reached Wickley House. But what was happening between them was far from over. Rather, they had just begun.

He kissed the corners of her lips and then the tip of her nose for good measure. "We have arrived at home. Shall we continue this conversation in privacy?"

"If by privacy, you are suggesting we go inside and head straight to one of our chambers, I wholeheartedly approve," she said.

He kissed her again. "My God, what did I ever do to be so fortunate as to have you as my wife?"

"You attended a country house party when I was sixteen and made me fall in love with you," she said breathlessly, and then sealed their lips in another kiss.

When it ended, he allowed his head to drop back against the squabs, studying her, this wild, wonderful woman he had wed. "You remember?"

Her smile was secrets and seduction and Helena. He felt it in his cock.

"I remember everything," she told him. "From the moment I first saw you. You were wearing tweed. You had the bluest eyes I had ever seen. I thought them more glorious than the sky and the ocean combined. I still do."

Her revelation stole his breath. Made him feel like a green lad. He wanted inside her. Immediately.

Gabe clenched his jaw against a swift tide of desire. Now was neither the time nor the place. He would not fuck his wife in a carriage parked just outside their home as their staff listened on, suspecting every act in which they were engaged. No, indeed. He was going to do this the proper way. He was aiming to make up for everything he had missed, all this time.

Dozens of pretty phrases and flowery words swirled in his mind, clamoring for his tongue. In the end, he was lost to anything but Helena herself. His wife, his countess, his love. He had fought her for so long. But he intended to heal them both.

"Into the house," he told her, kissing her again swiftly. "Now."

"That sounds like an excellent plan," she told him, kissing him once more before sliding from his lap.

For what was perhaps the first time in her life, his hellion had obeyed without a hint of protest. Nary a stubborn tip of her chin nor a cutting remark. It would seem he knew the way to tame her.

They disembarked, and Gabe cast propriety to the devil and took her up in his arms. Ignoring the astonished stares of the servants who quickly averted their gazes, he proceeded to carry his countess down the front walk, through the entry hall, and up two sets of stairs. She giggled and buried her face in his neck as they went.

By the time they reached his chamber, they were both breathless and grinning at each other like a pair of lovesick fools. He settled her on her feet and elbowed the door closed at his back.

"What do you suppose the servants will think of us?" she asked, grinning as if she did not give a damn.

Likely, she did not, and that was one of the qualities he loved about her best. It was also one of the qualities which had terrified him. She was unpredictable and wild, his Helena. But she was also sweet and good and kind. She loved him without reason. Had loved him all this time.

As he stood here with her, he knew, unequivocally, that love was not the path to ruin and disaster. Rather, it was the road to the future. His future. Their future. To happiness.

"I suppose they will think I have gone mad over my wonderful, beautiful, perfect wife," he told her, shrugging out of his coat.

Her full, pink lips parted. "I am far from perfect, and hardly wonderful or beautiful."

Gabe pulled at his necktie next. "You are the perfect wife for me, and you are the most beautiful woman I have ever known. As for the question of whether or not you are wonderful, the word hardly does you justice, but it will have to suit for now. My mind is having a difficult time managing fluent speech when all my body wants is you beneath me."

Charming color tinged her cheekbones. "Oh."

Her fingers went to the accommodating line of buttons bisecting the front of her bodice. One by one, she plucked them from their moorings as he tossed his waistcoat to the floor. His shirt was next, and then he toed off his shoes and strode for Helena, unable to last another second without his hands upon her.

"Yes, oh." His lips settled over hers.

Together, they shucked her bodice, and then he found the tapes on her skirts, undoing them and the hidden button as he slid his tongue inside her mouth. Her petticoats and bustle went next, followed by her corset and drawers. Helena's knowing fingers brushed over the fall of his trousers, unerringly finding his cockstand and palming him through the fabric.

Need surged, drawing his ballocks tight. He growled into the kiss, deepening it, wanting her so badly he ached. It was not enough. He wanted no barriers between them. He wanted skin on skin.

The next few moments were a blur of kissing, touching, and disrobing. They made their way to the bed together. Helena lay on her back, Gabe between her thighs. He took a moment to bask in the glory of her beneath him, all soft, smooth curves and delicious womanly flesh, her legs parted to reveal the pink folds of her sex.

"I love you, Helena." He could not keep the words to himself as he began raining kisses all over her body, worshiping her as she deserved. "I love you so bloody much." He kissed her knee, her thigh, all the way to her hip bone. He kissed the velvety curve of her belly. She shifted beneath him, arching, seeking.

He knew what she wanted. The air was perfumed with the decadent scent of her desire, musky and floral. His cock twitched and his mouth watered. He had to have her on his tongue. Caressing her hips, he pressed another kiss on the swell of her mound, just above the tempting bud of her clitoris.

"Gabe." She writhed beneath him with her protest.

She was getting desperate for him.

Good.He wanted her out of her mind with desire.

"Go on." He kissed her again, then grinned up at her. "Tell me what you want, darling."

"You know what I want." She was breathless, her verdant eyes glazed with desire.

"Mmm." He ran his lips over the skin of her inner right thigh, gently nibbling there. "I am afraid I don't unless you tell me, hellion."

"Wicked man," she said without heat. "I want your tongue on me."

He kissed her left inner thigh, then glanced his tongue over her flesh. "Like this?"

"No." She lifted her hips impatiently. "You know where."

He did know where, but he enjoyed watching her frustration. It was so erotic, the sight of her overwhelmed with desire, spread before him, all his. His cock was harder than marble. At last, he decided he could not prolong the torture for either of them any longer.

He dipped his head and ran his tongue along her pearl.

Her low moan was all the reward he needed. The taste of her was sweeter than sugar-laced tea. And he wanted more. He flicked over her in rapid strokes that had her bucking against him. Then he sucked hard, worrying the sensitive bundle of flesh with his teeth as he sank a finger inside her dripping channel.

She gripped him tightly. Silken, wet heat bathed his finger. He added another, stretching her, working her into a frenzy as he continued suckling her clitoris. She clutched his hair, grinding her cunny into his face, and he knew she was close. He fucked her with his fingers, in and out, faster, harder, deeper, flicking his tongue over her nub.

Helena came, clenching on him as she shuddered and thrust beneath him. Another surge of wetness coated him, and he withdrew from her as the last of her spasms rippled through her, replacing his fingers with his tongue. He lapped up her spend, thrusting his tongue into her, claiming her in every way he could. He had never been so overwhelmed with the urge to possess her as he was now.

Love did not make them weaker. Love made them stronger.

Gabe kissed his way back up her body then. How glorious she looked, sated and flushed, golden tendrils of her hair coming undone from her careful coiffure. He could spend all day drinking in the sight of her, except for the uncomfortably rigid state of his cock. But now that he had the taste of her on his tongue and had experienced the sensual bliss of her coming on his fingers, he was not going to last much longer.

When he reached her breasts, he sucked first one hard nipple, then the other. Her hands flitted over his shoulders. The quiet hum of her satisfaction was not lost on him. He bit her nipple lightly and reached between them to part her slick folds and toy with her clitoris once more.

"Gabe," she moaned.

Damnation, but he loved the sound of his name in her husky contralto as he was pleasuring her. He licked a circle around her nipple. "Yes, love?"

"I need you inside me."

If he did not take care, he would spend into the bed linens like a callow youth.

He suckled her other nipple, coating his thumb and forefinger in her dew before gliding it through her folds and then slicking it over his ready cock. The urge to claim her could not be denied. He kissed his way to her collarbone, then found her cheek. Her ear.

"I love you, hellion," he whispered.

He dragged his cockhead through her folds, finding her pearl.

"I love you, my beautiful man." Her nails raked down his back all the way to his arse. "Now make love to me."

"With pleasure." He kissed down her jaw, all the way to her lips, as he aligned himself to her entrance.

One thrust and he was seated deep inside her. Her cunny was hot and tight, and somehow, and though they had made love many times before, there was something different about this time. Something wilder, fiercer, stronger. The intensity built at the base of his spine and radiated outward, almost overwhelming him.

She felt so good wrapped around him, her dripping cunny clamped on his cock, her soft, feminine body beneath his. The scent of her desire swirled through the air, mingling with the perfume of bergamot and citrus. His every sense was more heightened than it had ever been. He kissed her hard, his tongue gliding into her mouth, and he had no doubt she could taste herself on his lips.

Her arms locked around his neck, and she made an erotic little mewl of pleasure as he began a steady rhythm. Although Gabe had intended to be gentle, to make love to her sweetly, slowly, the moment he started thrusting, he could not stop. He drove himself into her again and again while he teased her pearl with his thumb. Her cunny tightened on a sudden series of spasms.

He was going to lose control and spend.

But curse it, this was too quick. He wanted to make it last.

Gabe withdrew, his heart pounding, his prick throbbing. Helena made a sound of protest, but he drowned it out with another kiss as he rolled to his back, bringing her with him so that she was astride him. He wanted her to take her pleasure. To control the pace. He wanted her to ride him until she came all over his cock and then he wanted to fill her with his seed.

Her palms flattened on his chest. More of her hair had slipped free of the pins, sending curls cascading down her shoulders, a few errant strands over the full swells of her breasts.

"I saw this in one of the naughty books," she said approvingly.

The minx.

God, he loved this woman.

"It is called riding St. George," she added for good measure.

His cock throbbed. To the devil with the past. He had everything he needed right here. Why had he ever imagined, even for a moment, that he could settle for a frigid, proper bride? How wrong he had been.

How right for him Helena was.

"Yes," he managed, taking her hand in his and wrapping it around his cock. "Put me inside you and take your pleasure as you like, darling. This way, you are in control."

She stroked him, then rubbed her thumb over the tip of him where a pearly drop of his mettle was already leaking from the slit. "Oh, I like the notion of being the one in control. Very much so."

He had known she would.

Helena punctuated her pronouncement by sinking down on his cock, taking his full length. Pure bliss. She was still soaked, her grip on him tighter than ever. He anchored her with a hand on her waist and used the other to toy with her nipples as she moved, riding him. She made a throaty sound of satisfaction.

With great effort, he restrained himself, allowing her to maintain power. He tweaked her nipple and she tightened on him. Emboldened, he lifted his head and caught a nipple in his mouth, dragging on it while she rode him. For good measure, he reached to the place where their bodies joined and found her clitoris. He rubbed his thumb over her in firm circles as he licked and sucked her breasts.

It did not take long for the stimulations to have their intended effect upon her. She sank down on him hard and came with a cry, her cunny tightening on his cock with almost painful pleasure. And then, he was coming too, his hips thrusting toward hers as he emptied himself inside her. The bliss was so intense that little black stars peppered his vision as he spent.

They rolled as one, landing on their sides, their bodies still joined, arms and limbs entwined, hearts beating furiously. He studied her for a long moment, taking in her lovely face, from the bewitching trail of freckles on her nose to her kiss-swollen mouth. A fresh rush of love washed over him as he gazed at her.

"I love you, Helena." Having embraced the truth of his feelings, he could not seem to say the words enough.

"And I love you."

Grandfather's favorite maxim returned to him suddenly.

A man without honor is a man who has nothing.

In truth, he had been wrong about that. There was one necessary change.

A man withoutlove is a man who has nothing.

Gabe had never been more certain of the veracity of that statement than he was now. He pulled his wife to him for a lingering kiss that turned into another. And another. And then another.

Because this Earl of Huntingdon had everything.