Page 28 of My Darling Rogue
Gabriel’s eyes narrowed, then his head bowed slightly. “I apologize, my lady. One should not expect too much from a bastard. I shall see you tomorrow. Rest well.”
His lips pressed against her forehead in a brief caress, and then he was gone. The door clicked behind him before Celia could even muster up an admonishment at the derogatory term used in describing himself.
Later, much later, restlessly tossing and turning in her bed, Celia wondered why the faint self-recrimination in Gabriel’s voice bothered her so terribly.
CHAPTER13
Once again, Gabriel spent a night cursing his damnable weakness when it came to the delectable Celia Buchanan.
The failure to distance himself was becoming an infuriating exercise in delusional behavior. He had nothing to offer her, despite his wealth. Nothing of value remotely capable of overcoming his lack of title. And nothing would ever excuse the fact he was the bastard son of an opera singer who had, unfortunately, fallen in love with a man of higher social standing.
The Earl of Darby should marry off his headstrong daughter as quickly as possible. Lady Darby’s strangely complacent attitude in throwing her daughter to a wolf like himself should be discouraged as well. In the interim, Gabriel decided he must physically place the girl at arm’s length before they found themselves in a tangle of consequences and scandal.
But even as Gabriel made those hard decisions, he could not help but remember the soft, warm taste of her in his mouth. The sweetness of her climax and those intoxicating gasps for air that escaped her lungs as he pleasured her. She was an addiction now. One he should forget.
Or, at the very least, learn to live without.
* * *
Gabriel intentionally avoidedany interaction with Celia until it was time to gather for the evening meal. As promised, Ivy arranged it so that he and Celia sat beside each other. Because he was so readily accepted by the Earl and Countess, his presence at the table was not out of the ordinary. Oh, some thought it quite scandalous a bastard was seated among the ton, but Ravenswood was not deterred. Gabriel was accustomed to the murmurs, but he wondered if Celia truly objected.
Offering his arm as he escorted her into the dining room, Gabriel took note of Celia’s barely noticeable limp.
Bending close, he murmured, “Are you well enough to walk?”
Celia gave a tight nod. “I am fine, Mister Rose.”
She said nothing more while Gabriel held her chair so she could slide into it. When he took his own seat, he leaned in again. “Would you tell me if you are still in pain, I wonder?”
“It is not your concern if I am or not, Mister Rose,” she primly replied. Without looking at him, she methodically unfolded her napkin and laid it across her lap. Still keeping her gaze averted, she nodded permission for the servant to fill her wine goblet. “Indeed,Iam not your concern at all.”
Gabriel nodded with grim acceptance. “I agree, Lady Celia, but for the sake of Lady Ravenswood, let us make the best of this situation. After tonight, we shall endeavor to stay far away from one another.”
Celia cast him a glance from beneath long dark lashes and scoffed. “The promise of such action has not come to fruition thus far. You are to blame for that, Mister Rose.”
Gabriel leaned back in his chair, idly toying with the stem of his wine goblet. “I take full responsibility for my behavior, my lady.”
Celia huffed. “How refreshing, Mister Rose. And unbelievable.”
They spoke in low murmurs, but Gabriel knew attention was directed their way. From across the table, Lady Darby gave him an encouraging smile. There was no concealing the small glimmer of hope it contained.
The muscle in Gabriel’s jaw clenched. “Should I leave, my lady? Tell me to go and I shall this very instant.”
“And give others even more fodder for their tongue-wagging?” Celia sighed in resignation. “No, Mister Rose. You shall stay and suffer with me.”
Suffer.It was an appropriate word for the remainder of the meal. Because it was pure torture. Sitting in such close proximity to the woman he wanted so desperately while she did her best ignoring his presence.
He allowed her insolence, of course. What else could he do when she only responded when he asked pointedly direct questions? It was not as though he could throw her across his lap and spank her as he had in the forest.
From the opposite ends of the table, Sebastian and Ivy wore duplicate frowns aimed in his direction. They recognized the increasingly cold hostility yawning between Gabriel and Celia but could not make sense of it. Indeed, the crackle of that ice was affecting the other guests. To the point those seated in close proximity lost all interest in any semblance of conversation.
A yawning chasm of silence grew outward from the middle of the dining hall where Gabriel and Celia sat. Lady Darby appeared somewhat distressed, her gaze darting between her daughter’s icy countenance and Gabriel’s.
“I hope your injury is fully healed, Lady Celia,” Robert remarked from across the table. His chin still bore evidence of the wound Celia inflicted upon him, but it had not diminished his interest in her. “I join others in expressing my concern for your well-being.”
Gabriel glared at the man. A need to leap across the wide, mahogany expanse, through the elaborate candle and lily centerpieces, and over the delicate chinaware and crystal goblets burned his stomach with unrelenting intensity. His hands itched to wrap themselves around the young lord’s throat and squeeze until no further bleating issued from his mouth.
He sipped his wine instead as Lord Harvey continued.
