Page 39 of My Darling Rogue
Celia grit her teeth at his persistence.
“I-We do not suit one another, Mister Rose. It’s obvious if you look beyond the superficial veneer of attraction we share.”
“You wanted a faux courtship. Well, there is no need pretending now.” Gabriel sighed when Celia remained silent. “I see I’ve a bit of work convincing you otherwise.”
“You possess more ups and downs than a rowboat tossed about in a hurricane, Mister Rose,” Celia grit from between clenched teeth. “I fear it is impossible keeping pace with your moods.”
Taking her by the shoulders, Gabriel turned her until she was fully facing him. One hand cupped her chin, holding her still while he studied her face. His eyes turned darker, a glint of wicked promise shimmering in the sun-sparked depths. “Marry me, Celia. I will keep you safe and care for you the rest of our lives. Your burdens will become my burdens. Your joys will be my joys. Your pleasure, my goal. And your happiness shall be my lifelong pursuit.”
“I don’t understand why you’ve suddenly decided this.”
“You needn’t understand why I want you.” Gabriel stood suddenly, pulling her up along with him. “You need only say yes.”
“I-I cannot.” Celia’s words escaped in an agonized whisper. “Icannot.You are too possessive. Too intense. Too much of everything that makes you unsuitable as a husband.Myhusband. You care too much, Gabriel Rose. It’s as plain as if you wore a banner proclaiming it to the world. I am not the wife for you. And you are not the husband for me.”
“Possessive? Yes. That is one thing we do agree upon.” Gabriel chuckled. His firm lips brushed over hers and she shuddered in reluctant compliance. “Intense? Yes, that too. Because every touch we share feels like flames licking at my soul. You’re goddamn right I care too much. The problem is that I care about you. Celia, give me your fears. I will conquer them and shatter any doubt that you and I belong together. Give yourself to me and I shall do the same.”
In the distance, Celia heard a collective cheer from the crowd gathered on the lawns. Seconds ticked by as she and Gabriel stared at one another, and for some strange reason, the darkness began receding. A warm, lovely glow spread from the darkest corners of the garden, tendrils curling and weaving through the roses’ thorny branches until Celia was convinced something magical was occurring.
It was the fireflies. The tiny insects were fleeing their brief captivity in glass jars, escaping the brightly lit lawns for the safety of the dark. They were nearly frantic in their attempts at reaching the edges of the shadows. Searching out all the secret, hidden places while lighting the way at the same time. It was both beautiful and heartbreaking.
Celia’s own destiny seemed carried along on the wave of sparkling lights. This moment would decide her fate. The premonition swamped her, leaving her shaking with excitement and dread.
“You wanted me when I was nobody. And now that I am to be titled, you reject my offer. I wonder why that is.” There was obvious puzzlement in his voice.
Celia knew he would stop at nothing in solving this mystery.
She did not protest when Gabriel’s arm slid around her waist. She did not attempt freeing herself as the fireflies lit up the darkness and Gabriel’s hand cradled her jaw. When his lips crashed down on hers in a searing claim of her soul, she had no defense.
“Be mine, Celia.” The command was growled against her mouth.
She could not tell him the truth. That as an untitled commoner, she’d thought he might be perfect husband material. He probably would not have expected much from her as a wife. Would not have any recourse when her dark secret cast a shadow over their relationship. Gabriel’s eventual disappointment would have been countered by his elevated status as the husband of an earl’s daughter. He would have accepted her as she was, and he would have been left with no recourse.
But Gabriel’s potential elevation as a marquess was disastrous. The title would never allow consideration of anyone less than perfect as his bride.
Gabriel’s hand anchored her chin until Celia met his heated gaze.
“Do not force me to make this decision for you, Celia. Because I will and I won’t regret it. Not for a single goddamn second. And neither will you, I promise you that.”
As the light of the fireflies receded and the darkness encroached once more, Celia shook her head in denial.
“You don’t want me as a bride, Gabriel. Not now.”
The rejection lit something wild and desperate inside Gabriel. Before she could react, he drew her tighter against his body, caging her with heat and desire. His mouth covered hers, swallowing anything she might have said. He devoured her, his tongue thrusting against hers in a silent demand that she return his kiss.
There could be no retreat, not with the rose bushes and the darkness surrounding her. Celia could not help herself anyway when he kissed her like this.
She was always drowning in him. Always fighting to reach the surface when he took her in his arms. It was inescapable when she truly had no desire to escape. The haven his arms created felt right. Like paradise. Like home and safety. It was all an illusion, but she craved it just the same.
Her arms came up, not to push Gabriel away but to clutch at his broad shoulders. It was like embracing a huge oak tree. His body was solid and warm and so much larger than hers. Celia was cocooned by warmth. Safe. Wanted. Desired.
When the kiss deepened, she gasped and met him full measure. And why she surrendered was a mystery she did not think could ever be unraveled.
Gabriel’s hand cupped her breast. Even through the gown’s fabric, his palm scorched the flesh. Celia sighed, pressing closer into his touch. Gabriel was always warm, an inferno of heat and muscles and temptation.
His mouth traveled from hers and made a searing path down the column of her neck. Open mouth kisses were interspersed with sharp nips of his teeth to the delicate skin. Celia gasped at the overwhelming sensation of being consumed and worshipped. She was held in such thrall she couldn’t muster the concern that his hands were involved in sinful things.
“Be mine, Celia.” His demand was repeated while nipping her ear.
