Fallen Angel (28 page)

He already possessed her soul.

As casually as if they had been married for years, Lord Sherington unbuttoned his jacket and tossed it carelessly onto a chair. “There are many things I am sure you are wishing to discuss with me in private.”

Discuss? Seeing him in his shirt sleeves, Verity was so filled with longings to touch him, to hold him, to caress him, that she could not have carried on a rational conversation if her life had depended upon it.

He tugged at the knot in his cravat, but his neckcloth proved to be surprisingly recalcitrant. With an oath, he moved toward the bellpull, obviously intending to ring for his valet. Not wishing for anyone else to intrude on their privacy, Verity quickly forestalled him.

“Let me help you, my lord
,
” she said, her voice so soft and breathless, she was not sure he could hear her.

But apparently he did, because after a moment’s hesitation he changed direction and came over to where she was standing by the door. “Call me Gabriel,” he said, catching her chin and tilting her face until she was forced to look into his eyes.

“Gabriel,” she murmured obediently. The force of his will was overwhelming. Trapped by his glance, she was powerless to move. After what seemed an eternity, he released her chin and looked away. Raising her hands, she began struggling with nerveless fingers to undo his cravat.

Feeling her fingers delicately tugging at the cloth at his neck, Gabriel sucked in his breath, and all his good resolutions to leave her untouched dissolved into nothingness. Slowly and carefully so as not to startle her, he began to remove the pins from her hair, and soon the heavy weight of it fell down around her shoulders, and his hands of their own accord tangled themselves in the light brown curls.

Never before had he felt a woman’s hair that was so soft...

Intrigued, he felt his desire growing. What other secrets was she hiding? Reaching behind her, his hands deftly found and untied the ribbons holding her bodice together, and with a gentle whisper, her dress slid down the length of her body and settled itself on the floor.

Clad only in her chemise, she stood before him, her head slightly bowed and her cheeks tinted a delicate rose. Her skin was translucent, like the finest Chinese porcelain, and he could see the bluish veins beneath her skin.

His glance traveled the length of her graceful legs, then followed the sweet curves of her body, which were only partially concealed by her chemise, and he was shaken by the intensity of his desire to possess her.

With both hands, he cupped her face, then bent down and kissed her on her lips, which trembled sweetly beneath his.

Thoroughly bemused and captivated by the taste of her, he began to press kisses on her neck, and to slide his hands down her body. So drugged by desire was he, that it took him a moment to realize that she was whimpering.

Loosening his hold on her, he raised his head and looked into her eyes and saw that she was dazed, helpless before the strength of his passion. She reached out to him, as if to steady herself, and he realized the enormity of the wrong he had done her.

She had trusted him, and he had deliberately deceived her.

Her very submissiveness was a silent reproach, and unable to look at the trust in her eyes—the misplaced trust—he turned his back and said harshly, “You have nothing to fear from me. I realize I have forced you into this marriage.”

Despite knowing he had wronged her unforgivably, he could not say the words that would undo what had been done. “If I were a gentleman, I would release you from your vows, but I am afraid I am not that altruistic. You are my wife now and forever, and I shall allow no man to come between us. I give you my word, however, that you will have time to accustom yourself to this
marriage. I will not force you into my bed.”

“Time?”

“As much time as you need.”

“Always keeping in mind, of course, that you are not a patient man.”

Her voice held laughter, which made his temper rise, and he could not keep the anger out of his own voice. “Do not push me, my dear wife, or I shall not be responsible for what happens. Leave this room at once, for you will not be offered a second chance.”

There was a light touch on his shoulder. “And if I choose to stay?” she asked.

His shoulder burned beneath her hand, and he said, “You cannot wish to stay.”

“I have promised never to lie to you,” she pointed out simply, and her openness and honesty made him feel his own guilt all the more.

Thankful that she could not see his face, he said, “But I have deliberately and willfully misled you.”

She did not make a reply, but he felt the room grow cold with her unhappiness—unhappiness that he had caused her.

“You asked once what I wanted from you, and I refused to tell you.” His shame was too great for him to go on.

Her courage, however, was greater than his, and she asked a second time, “What is it you want from me?” She was too close—it would have been so easy just to turn and wrap his arms around her and say something—anything—that would allow
him
to take what she was offering so willingly. But he could no longer deceive her, whether by his words or his silence.

“The day I picked you up at your father’s house, I made up my mind that you had all the attributes I was looking for in a wife.”

“You are mocking me, my lord.”

He wanted very much for her to call him Gabriel again, but he had forfeited the right to demand anything from her. “I am quite serious. Hearing your views on love, I cold
heartedly decided to make you fall in love with me so that I could have a wife who would not try to change me.”

“I will never try to change you—” she started to say, sliding her arms around his waist and pressing herself against his back.

Desperately Gabriel fought to resist the temptation to ignore his conscience—to simply take what he wanted. “But I wish to change—just tell me what kind of husband you want, and I will be that man. I will do anything in my power to make you love me.”

“Make me?
Make
me?” she questioned, and the laughter was back in her voice.

He groaned. “Forgive me. I am
...
accustomed to having my own way.” It was difficult, but he forced the words out. “It will not be easy for me to learn patience, but I am determined to give you the time you need. And I hope that
...
that someday you will find it in your heart to forgive me
...
and to love me.”

“I forgive you now, and as for loving you, I am afraid I have not been completely honest, either,” she said.

Without releasing him, she ducked under his arm and slid around until she was in front of him, hugging
him
with surprising strength. “There is something I neglected to tell you.”

Without waiting for his brain to issue an order, his arms went around her, and he felt as if he had come home at last.

“I did not lie precisely,” she said, her face buried shyly in his chest, “but I definitely did not tell you the whole truth. You see, I fell hopelessly in love with you the first day we met.”

Overcome by emotion, he could not speak for a long while. Finally he managed to ask, “Why did you not tell me?”

“That would have been rather presumptuous of me, would it not?” she said, her voice betraying her own doubts. “After all, I am a rather plain spinster who did not take.”

Gabriel laughed, and the sound filled the room. “You have been completely misinformed, my love. I have traveled the world around, and you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen in my life.”

Clearly astounded at his words, she left off hiding her face and looked up at him.

“And in case it has slipped your mind,” he said, giving her a light kiss on the forehead, “you gave up being a spinster this very morning when you said the vows that made you my wife.”

Scooping her up in his arms, he carried her over to the bed and gently laid her down. His eyes never leaving hers, he began to unbutton his shirt. “And as for thinking you did not take, I shall do my best to alleviate any doubts you may have on that score. You are quite thoroughly ‘taken,’ my love, so you had better accustom yourself to that idea.”

The shadows were deepening in the room, and his wife lay sleeping in his arms. Gabriel had never in his life felt so deeply contented. He had searched the world over without knowing what he was looking for; he had hungered without knowing what would satisfy his craving.

And now, for the first time in his life, he felt replete. Completely and totally at peace with the world.

All his
l
ife he had struggled to be free of the control of other people. And now he had given this woman absolute, total power over his life—over himself.

And yet he felt no fear. Almost as if by making himself vulnerable, he had made himself even stronger.

Was this love? This desire to please rather than to be pleased? The emptiness when she was away from him and this feeling of completeness when she was beside him?

She would know. “Verity,” he whispered, and she stirred in his arm, snuggling even closer to him.

Even her name meant truth. He would ask her, and she would tell him, and he could believe her, for she had promised never to lie to him. And he trusted her as he had never trusted anyone before.

He wished she would wake up, but she continued to sleep as one exhausted, which was hardly surprising considering that as innocent and inexperienced as she had been,
h
er passion had matched his own.

She needed to rest; he needed to talk to her.

He was not a patient man.

Savoring every moment, he began kissing her awake, sliding his hands over her soft curves, stroking and caressing her, and delighting in the way she moved and stretched beneath his touch.

She was drowsy and only half awake at first, then looking up at him, her eyes widened and filled with joy, like a child who has received a most wondrous present.

As if he were the most wonderful man in the world.

She was the most wonderful, the most beautiful, the most perfect woman in the world. And she was his.

“I love you,” he said.