CHAPTER 30

WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME she had been so excited about anything? She couldn't remember. Never. This elation was new. Twirling in her bedchamber, she held Gabriel's note to her chest. Silliness, of course. It was nothing more than a simple holiday on the coast. She had had those before. Harold insisted they spend a couple of weeks at his beach cottage every summer. She enjoyed those occasions and even took advantage of the private beach to bathe in the sea without the need for bathing machines.

But this was different. Being with Gabriel made it different. She didn't even care about the sea. They could have spent those days in a cave, and she would treasure every moment.

Walking into her dressing room, she rang for Edith, her maid, to help her prepare her suitcase.

"You rang, Your Grace?"

Hannah turned to her with a grateful smile. Edith had been her maid for the past fifteen years. From the time of her marriage to Harold. She was an unassuming woman of middle years. Not particularly warm or given to cheerfulness, but practical, accomplished, and even-tempered. Unflappable, more like it.

"Edith, I need you to help me pack for a holiday at the beach. I'll be leaving tomorrow."

"Of course, Your Grace. But the beach? At this time of the year?" It was a sign of how surprised her maid was that she dared to question her mistress.

Hannah gave her a twisted half smile. "I don't suppose we will be doing any sea bathing. Pack as if for the country. Very simple outfits I can manage by myself with a minimum of fuss."

"As you wish, Your Grace. But there's no need to limit yourself to simple garments. I'll be more than happy to assist you," the maid replied.

"Oh."

Hannah had an uncomfortable realization; she had to give her maid some excuse as to why she was not coming. And it had to be a good one. With the usual reserve of a well-trained servant, her maid had not shown that she found anything amiss with her mistress's out of character late arrivals. But she had to wonder. And draw conclusions.

"You are not coming with me, Edith. I'll be visiting a friend from my childhood. She lives in a modest house and there's no room for extra servants." It was the best excuse she could come up with on the spot. And she thought it was a good one.

The maid, however, was as distressed at the news as if she had dismissed her. "But Your Grace! How will you manage? Who will tend to your toilette and care for your garments?"

"I'm sure my friend's servants will be up to the task. I don't wish to overburden them, however. That's why I ask that you pack simple garments."

"I...as you wish, Your Grace." the maid capitulated, unconvinced. "For how many days will you be away?"

"I don't know, a week, maybe two."

The maid gave her a stiff nod before turning to pack her clothes in silent disapproval.

Oh, heavens. That had not gone well. She looked at her actions from Edith's perspective and winced at what the maid must be thinking. Hannah's husband was ill, and instead of being by his side, she was gallivanting all over London, attending events, and returning in the early morning hours. And now she was taking off on some mysterious holiday.

The servants would have to be fools not to realize there was something afoot. And if... no, when she conceived, they would wonder about her virtue. How could they not draw certain conclusions? She trusted the ducal servants. They were all the epitome of discretion, but she would rather not have her business exposed to them.

Who knew it would prove so difficult to hide a forbidden liaison?

Despite her misgivings, Hannah thrummed with excitement on the way to the train station early the next day. Two footmen were in charge of her luggage and before leaving home, she had even given instructions to her maid to send a telegram to the duke informing him of her plans and assuring him she would send him another telegram upon arrival. That should allay some of her maid's suspicions and show that she had her husband's approval. Still, the duplicity sat heavy on her chest.

The feeling didn't last as she entered the excitement and hectic energy of the station. She headed straight for the platforms, flanked by her trusted footmen. Enlisting a porter to help her navigate the station had been easy. Now she sat ensconced in the first-class train coach. Gabriel had joked about whether she could withstand a few hours in rough accommodations, but she found nothing to complain about in the luxurious interior of the coach.

Now if only Gabriel had arrived already. The train would depart in just five minutes, and she had seen no sign of him. Her eyes darted between her pocket watch and the window. Peering into the crowds for a glimpse of his tall, dark-haired figure.

Where was he? What if he didn't make it on time? Would the train leave without him? Of course it would!

The slip of the ground beneath her had her gasping and shooting out of her seat. Oh no! The train had started its slow progress out of the station. Her face glued to the window as she frantically scanned the passing crowd outside. Where was Gabriel? Was it too late to get out of the train? Yes, it was. And too late for him to get on, too. How could their plans have gone so awry when, just a few minutes before, she had been looking forward to this trip with so much anticipation?

Her heart plummeted to the bottom of her stomach. Only to somersault to her throat when, just as the train cleared the station and picked up speed, the door that led into the train hallway opened, and Gabriel walked in smiling at her.

"You wretched, wretched man!" she accused, launching herself at him.

He caught her, enveloping her in a powerful embrace. Laughter rumbled through his chest as his arms tightened around her, as if he would never let her go.

"I'm sorry for causing you worry, my darling," he said, as he planted a kiss on her temple. "I boarded the train before you arrived at the station. But I have been hiding in the hallway. I didn't want to risk being seen by anyone on the platform."

"You could have announced your presence to me! I almost perished from worrying."

"Judging by the way you reacted just now, I don't think that would have been wise. You would have given it away," he teased her with a mocking smile.

"I wouldn't have!" she protested, just because she should challenge his assertion, but there was no heat in her words. Finding him on board had been such a relief that there was no space for irritation in her heart.

The compartment had two benches, facing each other, but he sat and tugged her onto his lap. His eyes captured hers, igniting a fire low in her belly with their intensity. He uttered a curse under his breath that sounded something like ‘damned, I've missed you, then there were no more words as his mouth descended on hers, claiming her with exquisite thoroughness.

His lips were hot, dry. Sometimes soft, sucking, sliding, molding to hers. Sometimes hard, claiming, biting, commanding surrender. His tongue traced the corner of her lips, teasing, inflaming, inviting. She answered his invitation. Opening her mouth to take him in. His flavor, his essence. Their tongues mated in a sensual dance, and she was lost.

Sensations cascaded one into the next. Coursing through her like pulses of heat that bathed each corner of her body. She couldn't get enough of him. Outside, the scenery flashed by as the train sped through pastures and low hills. Charging towards their destination. The speed matched her racing heart. She was hurtling towards something as well.

"Straddle me," he said in a hushed tone, already maneuvering her skirts into position.

Her eyes widened even as a thrill ran down her spine. "Here?" she whispered.

His eyes held hers full of lambent desire and wicked promise. "Here. Now."

God, she wanted it. Wanted him, but even as she complied and readjusted herself on his lap, some sense prevailed. "The door—"

"It's locked."

"The windows..."

"We are speeding across empty fields and are not due to arrive at the next station for hours."

"But what if the attendant...oh." Her protest died on her lips as his sneaky hand found its way through the layers of petticoats and drawers to caress her sensitive flesh, left open and exposed by her position.

"Damn, you are so ready, so eager. You missed me too, didn't you?"

"You know I did."

"I do. Your flesh holds nothing back. It tells me. It calls to me."

His wicked fingers played with her bud, sliding, rolling, circling... driving her mad.

"Gabriel!" she groaned.

How did he know exactly how to touch her? Where to exert pressure, when to double down, and when to retreat? Her body no longer felt like hers, but his to command. And he played her like a virtuoso played a violin.

"Yes, Hannah. Say my name. Look at me."

Her eyes had fallen closed, focusing on the pleasure he elicited, but she opened them, unable to refuse his command. His azure gaze captured her, held her in thrall as his fingers entered her, strumming a place inside that made her see stars and emit a choked cry.

"Shh. Such a noisy wench you are. They will hear you..."

"I-I can't help it." It was true, damn him. Her hands raked through his hair. Holding fistfuls of it, pulling hard in her desperation.

"Bite my shoulder if you need to," he rasped.

He didn't stop, didn't offer a respite, but continued to caress her, both within and without. Every touch of his fingers sent waves of pleasure coursing through her, making her writhe like a wild creature.

"You are about to come, aren't you, my duchess? Come for me. I need to see you fall apart."

She was being coiled tighter and tighter, like a spring wound too tight. She couldn't stand more tension without breaking apart. So much pent-up energy... she snapped. Something inside her burst like a summer storm over parched land. She was convulsing, tossed around by a force she could not command. It would have been scary but for his arms, securing her to him. Holding her safe and warm until the crisis had passed. Until she found herself floating in a cloud of bliss while aftershocks still coursed through her body.

"Oh, Hannah. You are so lovely in your ecstasy. Will you take me in? I need you so much..."

How could she deny his desperate plea when he had given her such transcendent bliss? It had not come easily for him. She noted the beads of sweat at his temples, his tense, flushed face. She reached for his lap, having to dig her way through a mountain of fabric, until she found the buttons that closed his trousers. With frantic, clumsy movements, she tore at his fly. Impatient, as desperate as he to have him inside her despite having just enjoyed a spectacular release. Perhaps because of it. Now her flesh clamored for the fullness of him.

At last, his member sprang free, hard and hot and oh so heavy. She leveraged herself on her knees to position him at her entrance and then sank down with a guttural moan. Her flesh gave in, surrounding him, tightening around his unyielding invasion all on its own. The need to remain quiet strangled his groan of pleasure.

"So wet, so hot, so fucking tight." His words were a curse uttered in adoring tones. "You'll be the death of me. The feel of you... I can't even... yes. Ride me. Take your pleasure from me."

So wet...a memory sprang unbidden to the forefront of her mind. Back in her folly, when she had tried to make it impersonal and quick by applying oils. He had promised that when he was done with her, she wouldn't need oils. That she would be dripping wet for him. And she was, God help her. He had more than made good on his promise.

Was it only a mere few weeks ago that she thought she could remain impervious while he made love to her? How na?ve. How unutterably foolish of her to think intimacy with him could ever be impersonal. He had been destroying her defenses from the start. Touching her heart with the same exquisite tenderness he touched her body. Now she couldn't even remember a time when she didn't crave him.

She gasped, holding on to his shoulders for balance when the train tilted as it navigated a bend. An infinitesimally small degree, she was sure. But with his member inside her, every movement became magnified. The rocking motion spread shivers all along her spine, radiating from the point where they connected, demanding more.

She experimented. Bouncing up and down a bit. Adjusting. His hands caught her hips under her petticoats and guided her in a back-and-forth motion.

"Oh."

How surprising. This way, his body ground against her sensitive flesh, making the pleasure more intense. His eyes held a wicked light. He knew exactly what he was doing to her. Reveled in it.

But it wasn't enough. She was climbing again to that place of unadulterated bliss. She could glimpse it, but it remained maddeningly out of reach. Just when she was getting frustrated, he braced a foot on the facing seat, changing the angle of penetration. It did something to her. Hit a spot.

"That's it, my love. It's coming. Don't fight for it. Let me bring it to you."

She knew he would. His fingers brushed against her nub, and she exploded. Again. Falling apart. Destroyed by the pleasure that only he could bring forth. Throughout the cataclysm, she had just enough consciousness to notice his grimace, the tightening of his body, the spasms of his member inside her as liquid warmth flooded her.

She collapsed against him. Boneless, spent, and happier than she could ever remember being. His strong arms held her tight, his member still inside her. She was in no hurry to disengage, and neither was he. His mouth skated along her temple, creating a constellation of kisses.

Well, she would never in her life be able to take a train again without remembering this ride.