Page 63 of Wedded to the Deviant Duke

The older women froze, eyes wild and fingers curled. She eyed Thalia like one might dinner on a plate, but Thalia remained stoic, her posture straight and tone dangerously calm.

“Y-You—you don’t know what you’re talking about,” Gabriel’s mother babbled, still pulling at fine strands of hair. “I—I loved Alexander; I did! I loved him so much, but with Oliver… Oliver was…”

“I don’t know you, Lady Fletcher,” Thalia began, tone level and far more even-keel than she expected. “But I cannot sit back and watch while you’re hurting people I… I care for.” She was uncertain where her anger welled from, but one look at Charlotte’s tear-stricken face, at Gabriel’s stunned silence, cemented it completely.

“They’re not your kindling, Lady. Fletcher. Your happiness should have sprung from theirs as well.” She paused, suddenly feeling the all-too familiar sense of eyes weighing against her shoulder. “That… th-that is what I’ve observed, Lady Fletcher. You have no right to pursue that love at the cost of another’s peace. They have moved on—thrived without your presence. I think it best you keep it that way.”

The elderly woman before Thalia mumbled something incoherent under her breath, beginning to rock in place while her fingers dug into her scalp. A few men from the audience stepped forward to take control of the situation, gently grasping Lady Fletcher’s arms before leading her through the crowd and into the streets. Those left behind stood amidst a deafening silence, filled only by the pitter-patter of rain falling against the tent.

“Thalia.”

Thalia turned, Gabriel standing alone as Charlotte quickly rushed to her own group of friends. His expression was unreadable, his stance too stiff for her liking.

“Come with me.”

Thalia obeyed.

CHAPTER28

It was decided that moment had been, without a doubt, Thalia’s worst idea to date. And she hadn’t even consciously made the decision. But now, as Gabriel led her across the gallery grounds and towards the furthest back lot, she wondered what terrible words he had in store for her.

Perhaps if she were lucky, he’d allow her the chance to go home and pack her things. That was, of course, if she survived this encounter with him, first.

Gabriel brought them to what appeared to be a makeshift stable, set aside for carriage horses who may have come a great distance to visit the gallery today. Stalls were filled with gentle braying and the sweet scent of hay, the constant drip of rain falling off its roof as the storm only worsened.

Thalia quickly took shelter beneath the stable, doing her best to wring her dress free of water. As she bent down to squeeze out the hem, she found Gabriel already on his knees in front of her, wet material gathered in his hand as he, instead, wrung it dry.

“G-Gabriel…?”

Slowly, his hands worked up the length of her dress, pressing water free before settling against her waist. Something about him was entirely different from before; whatever anger or resentment he held had seemingly vanished, washed away by the rain during their walk over. His eyes no longer looked cruel and cutting, his expression no longer etched with hate. Thalia blinked, uncertain as to what she was meant to do.

“I wasn’t fully honest last night, Thalia.” He moved to stand, one of his hands moved to gently sit against her face; it was cold, soaked still from the rainwater he’d squeezed from her dress, and yet Thalia found herself leaning into it entirely.

“There was more I needed to say, but…” his voice lingered, clearly struggling to say his piece. “I allowed my cowardice to come between us.”

Thalia’s brow furrowed ever so slightly. “‘Cowardice’ is not a word I thought you held in your lexicon, Gabriel.”

He sighed lightly, stroking her cheek as his arm tightened around her waist. “What you just did… what you’ve done for my sister…” his face leaned in closer, his breath warm and causing a flush of heat across Thalia’s cheeks. “I don’t want you to misunderstand me this time. I don’t want etiquette or polite speech to stop us from a complete understanding.”

“U-Understanding?”

He was so close; a drop of rainwater fell from his face and settled against Thalia’s lips. She suddenly felt far too warm, knowing full well that she should pull away, that she shouldn’t allow him to make the same mistake.

“My goals have always been around the hunt, Thalia. The chase, the cornering, the inevitable devouring.” He pressed his body against hers, forcing them against the stable’s wall as his hand ran through her hair. “Every part of my life plans in such a way, and yet…”

“And yet?” She asked, breathless.

Gabriel’s lips hovered between hers, hesitating, before settling into a long, tender kiss. More rainwater from his hair speckled against her face, and Thalia’s hands reached out to caress against his face, to hold him steady as he fully explored her. His hand slipped up the length of her back, pulling lightly against the strings of her bodice.

“G-Gabriel.”

“I want this,” he insisted. “I long for you, Thalia Sutton.”

Thalia turned her head, unable to meet such an intensive gaze. “I… b-but Gabriel?—”

“I can’t say I’ll be willing to marry you so quickly,” Gabriel said. “I can’t say the idea will never bring me discomfort. It could take months, or years—but I can’t let my weakness push you away, Thalia.” He lightly kissed her again, pulling away and brushing stray droplets of water from her face. “I am broken inside, Thalia. No more a predator than you are prey. I—” He swallowed, visibly shaken. “I am afraid. Afraid to be… to be…”

“Vulnerable,” Thalia finished softly.

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