CHAPTER 15

IT HAD TAKEN HER FIVE days to settle matters at the estate and arrange for her move to London. Five days in which she had not seen Gabriel or heard from him. Of course, it was not such a long time, but she wondered if he would have changed his mind. The small little bubble they shared during his visit had disappeared, leaving her to feel the harsh reality of what their relationship entailed.

As promised, she had sent a note to the Earl of Brentworth's townhouse as soon as she arrived. His response had been immediate and puzzling.

Meet me tomorrow at the mews behind your home. At dawn. Come alone. Gabriel.

What did he intend? Was he planning a rendezvous in the mews, of all places? No, he wouldn't be so gauche. Oh! Of course. It was a sign of her befuddled mind that it took her so long to realize his intent. A ride at dawn had always been their thing. She smiled with anticipation as she thought of continuing their morning rides in London.

The next day, before the first rays of sunlight had even broken through the horizon, she was walking through the gardens towards the mews. She had ordered her mount to be saddled and ready at dawn, as she wanted to depart as soon as he arrived. Anticipation lent an extra bounce to her step, and her excitement was not about the ride. She was eager to see him. It was amazing how much she had missed him in the mere five days they had been apart.

She entered the mews building from the garden, pleased to find Thomas, the head groom, leading her mare, already saddled.

"Thank you, Thomas," she said, walking up to her gray mare and patting it on the neck.

"At your service, Your Grace. A groom is ready to accompany you."

"No, thank you, Thomas. I won't need a groom."

"But, Your Grace, beggin' pardon. It's not safe."

"It will be perfectly fine. I plan to meet with some friends at Hyde Park." It was a half-truth. She did not know where Gabriel intended to take her, but she would be safe with him.

Not wanting to give the head groom more time to argue, she took the reins of her mare and led it out of the building. Just as she reached the corner, Gabriel materialized from the shadows leading his own horse. His smile set off a riot of butterflies in her stomach, and she put her hand there to placate them as she smiled back.

And then he was in front of her, his eyes roaming her face as if to learn all her contours. His voice, low and velvety, curled around her.

"Good morning, Duchess."

Without warning, he took her hand and brought her gloved fingers to his lips, his eyes never leaving hers. She felt the warmth of his lips even through the leather of her gloves. It sent pleasure curling through her and coalescing low in her stomach.

"Good morning, Gabriel."

She saw the pleased expression in his eyes at her use of his given name. For a moment, she thought he might kiss her. His eyes got an intent expression while focusing on her mouth, and desire shimmered around them. They were standing so close. Just a few more inches and his mouth would be on hers.

He had kissed her only once. That first day, by her folly. It seemed like such a long time ago. And yet the kiss was fresh in her mind. It made her lips tingle with anticipation. Why hadn't he kissed her again? Did he not want to? She leaned in, waiting for the exquisite pressure of his lips on her, but he stepped back, breaking the spell.

"Ready for your morning ride?" he asked. The wicked man!

"Always." She stepped closer to her mare's side, and he put his hands on her waist. Again, that sizzling awareness. He had done this several times before, and yet... Was it her imagination that his touch seemed more possessive this time?

His muscles tensed, and she almost expected he was going to draw her against his body. But he only effortlessly lifted her onto the saddle, helping her arrange her skirts. Then, with a graceful but powerful movement, he vaulted onto his own horse. And they set off for the park.

The streets were quiet this early in the morning. Only delivery wagons and other workers. Most of the aristocracy still slept. The few who were awake, it was probably because they had not gone to bed yet.

They rode down South Audley Street and cut through Deanery Street onto Stanhope Gate, but when she made to cross Park Lane to reach Hyde Park, he called out to her.

"Not here."

"I thought we were going to Hyde Park."

He shook his head, drawing closer. "Not unless you want to be spotted riding with me."

She dropped her eyes, not up to the challenge. Still... "This early in the morning, it is unlikely."

"There's still a risk. That is the preferred park of the Ton. Any English aristocrat who fancies himself a serious horseman could ride down Rotten Row. I have another location in mind."

"Green Park?" she asked, continuing to ride down Park Lane towards Hyde Park Corner and Constitution Hill.

He actually laughed. "How is that any better? No, Duchess. Follow me, please. I promised to show you London beyond Mayfair. And that is exactly what I'm going to do."

He turned his horse to ride down Grosvenor Place, the Palace Gardens, extending all the way to Buckingham Palace, to their left. At Buckingham Palace Road, he made a right, continuing south through Commercial Road to emerge by what had once been the place of Ranelagh Pleasure Gardens, now only a pasture.

"Are we going to Ranelagh, then?"

"You'll see soon enough," was the cryptic answer, but there was a twinkle in his eyes. He was enjoying keeping her guessing. And she was enjoying the game too, if truth be told. She couldn't wait to see where he was taking her.

The impressive towers of the Chelsea Bridge loomed in front of them, and he rode towards them, with her following not far behind.

"Oh! We are going to the South Bank. Battersea, then. Tell me, is it Battersea Park?"

He threw her a smile of assent as they cantered through the bridge and turned right to enter the park. As soon as they crossed the gates, the atmosphere changed. The path, dappled in the soft morning light, wound its way through majestic stands of trees, their branches forming a tunnel of green high above their heads. The air was crisp and filled with the intoxicating fragrance of dew-kissed grass. A melodious symphony of waking birds drowned out the city's hum.

In complete accord, they gave their mounts their head. The quickening staccato of the horses' hooves ironically seemed to make time slow. As they meandered along, putting the horses through their paces, glimpses of the London skyline emerged here and there.

As Gabriel had surmised, there were few people in the park at this hour, and none of them were members of the aristocracy. They could be in a different country, for how distant the Ton seemed from this enchanted world, even though they were less than thirty minutes away from Mayfair.

"This place is lovely. Thank you for bringing me here," she said as they slowed the horses to a walk.

The lake unveiled itself up ahead, its mirrored surface reflecting the palette of the awakening sky.

"I'm glad you approve. It bodes well for the rest of the less than aristocratic entertainments I have in store for you," he replied as he drew his horse next to hers.

She liked this teasing and playful Gabriel. It encouraged her to do the same. To laugh, let loose, be young and carefree again.

"And where are you taking me next?"

"Oh no, that is a surprise. What fun would it be if I just told you?"

"I'm sure it would not diminish my enjoyment of the activity in the least."

"Maybe not, but how could I deprive you of the joy of trying to guess?"

"Oh, you are impossible," she said with a pretend pout. "How do you know so much about non-aristocratic entertainment? You are as aristocratic, if not more, than me."

"Ah, but I did not live as an aristocrat for many years."

Gabriel said it in a casual tone, without pain or rancor, but she sensed there was a painful story behind that.

"I would like to know how you lived, and where." Had she said that aloud? Her mouth seemed to have a mind of its own of late. But she could not regret it. She wanted to know everything about him.

"Truly? My life is not that interesting," he said with a nonchalant shrug.

"Hmm, I will be the judge of that."

She looked around, noticing they were in a lovely spot. It featured dense vegetation and even a small waterfall. "Can we linger here for a bit? I would like to sit by the lake and watch the swans."

"Of course," he said, dismounting at once and coming to her to help her down.

They walked their horses to the grassy area near the lake and, eschewing the benches lining the main avenue, sat on the grass at the very edge of the lake. A copse of trees sheltered them from the view of anyone walking down the path. They were in their own private little spot, and she found the seclusion suited her well.

"Why didn't you live as an aristocrat for many years?"

He grimaced. Maybe he had hoped she would have forgotten the subject. Well, there was no chance of that. She was profoundly interested in everything that had made this complex man who he was.

"I guess I could say it was for the adventure, or something daring and romantic-sounding. But the truth is, it was for practical reasons. I did not have the means to live as an aristocrat."

"But you are the son of an earl..." At his sardonic look, she waved a hand. "I know, but still. In the eyes of the law and society, you were his son and heir. Surely that entitled you to an allowance and certain privileges."

"Not in his view."

"He disowned you?" she whispered, appalled.

Even if she knew the truth about his parentage, she still had not guessed the depths of the old earl's malice. What had it been like for Gabriel to grow up with so much undeserved hatred from the very people who should have loved him the most?

Gabriel shrugged. "In every way that mattered. At this point, he couldn't prevent me from inheriting the title, because I was born within his marriage to my mother. But he washed his hands off me. When I graduated from Eton, I wanted to go to Oxford to read law, or even study for the church. I was a great student and had an aptitude for both. But the Earl bought me a commission in the army and shipped me off to India. In light of recent revelations, I think he hoped I would be killed in battle."

She gasped. The cold-bloodedness of the earl's actions, and the resigned tone in which Gabriel delivered the statement, sent chills down her spine.

"How old were you?"

"I had just turned eighteen."

"So young... How did you manage?"

"Oh, there were others younger than me. I did well enough, all considered. I was only a green lad who knew nothing about war, but I was an officer in Her Majesty's army."

"What rank did you have?"

"I was a Major, a high enough rank. The earl may have hated me, but his pride would not allow him to have his alleged son be any less. I guess I should be grateful for that, but I wasn't. I was terrified. Not at the prospect of battle, but at the responsibility. Can you imagine what it feels like to be eighteen and have this position of power thrust upon you? I was responsible for men's lives. Literally. A wrong decision on my part could have resulted in unnecessary deaths."

"What did you do?" Had he said his life was not interesting? She was enthralled.

He shrugged. "At least I had enough wisdom to seek competent advisors. Most of my subordinate officers were more experienced and capable than me. I realized at once that if I tried to lord it over them, they would become my detractors. So instead, I listened to them. Empowered them. And they became my mentors and biggest allies."

"It sounds as if you turned things around through your own cunning."

"I don't know about that, but in time, they came to trust me. And by the end, I think I was a competent officer. But I hated every minute."

"Why did you hate it so much?"

"The senseless fighting. Men killing each other for no other reason than the greed of those in power."

She agreed with his reasoning, but the admission of such by a man, especially an ex-officer, surprised her. It spoke well of his character, and her heart swelled with emotion for him with every word he uttered.

The breeze ruffled his dark hair, and his handsome face looked almost boyish. Unless one noticed the fine lines radiating from the corners of his eyes. Lines that spoke of laughter, pain, and strength.

"How long were you in the army?"

"Almost eight years. Eight hellish years."

"Why did you stay for so long if you hated it?"

"For my men," he answered instantly, looking straight at her. "They were the only reason I learned how to be an officer, and how to fight."

"What made you leave, then?"

His lip curled. "After a particular campaign to Burma, I'd had enough. If I had been born fifty years earlier, I wouldn't have minded fighting against Napoleon. They were an invading army and had to be stopped. But now, we were the invading army. And I just tired of being a tool of the British Empire."

Her eyes widened in surprise. The way he spoke was almost subversive. And to hear this from a British peer and ex-officer was more than a little surprising.

"I have shocked you," he said, a bitter twist to his lips. "I assure you; my views are not unique. Many officers feel the same way as I do. I've been trying to use my position in the Lords to push for reform in the military."

"I see. That is commendable, of course. I... admire your convictions."

His crooked, almost boyish smile dispelled the shadows from his face as if they had never existed. The transformation was so sudden it left her reeling.

"Enough about this. Here we are, in this serene setting, sharing an intimate interlude, and all I do is talk of war. My apologies, Duchess."

She shook her head, flustered by the intensity of his regard when he turned on his charm like that and directed it toward her in full force. It felt like having the sun hit her straight in the face after being too long in the dark. Welcome, but blinding.

"No need to apologize. I asked."

"Yes, you did," he said, his voice low and sinful. "Why did you ask?"

She had to take a deep breath before she could confess, "Because I am interested in everything about you."

"Is that so?" Was that wistfulness behind his tone? No, it was more like a ravening hunger. "And here I thought you were only interested in my seed."

The last words were like a splash of frigid water on her overheated face. She gasped and jolted backwards from the shock of it.

As she scrambled to get up, his hand grabbed her arm. "Wait. Don't go." The apology in his tone stopped her more than his grip on her arm.

He took her face in his gloved hands and the caress felt as if it were skin to skin. He was staring at her, his eyes roaming her face. Was he going to kiss her now?

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. My only explanation is that this deal is messing with my head. I'm desperate for you. I want to take you, make you mine in every way a man can possess a woman."

The heated words should have shocked her, but they only started a fire in her belly. A fire that moved lower, liquefying the place between her thighs. A helpless whimper escaped her, and she pressed her thighs closer together, trying to assuage the need in her core. He noticed, and his nostrils flared in triumph, but his lips remained maddeningly elusive.

"Are you going to kiss me now?" she asked, her voice breathless.

"Kiss you? I want to give you so much pleasure, that you will feel like you are going to die from the sheer intensity of it. But you won't die. I'll shatter you and put you back together in a new form. And that new you will belong to me alone."

"Yes." She wasn't aware she had uttered the whispered word until his eyes fixated on her lips with the single-minded intensity of a hawk spotting tasty prey.

And then he swooped.