Page 47 of My Darling Rogue
Sara’s head tilted at the faint bitterness of his tone. “Of course. It is fortunate the names are so similar. Much easier to remember.”
“Yes, it is.” After a brief pause, Gabriel pointedly asked, “Where is Celia?” He did not care or even know if it were proper to inquire of one’s future wife with such overriding impatience.
Obviously, it was not acceptable because Sara let out an exasperated sound and frowned discouragingly. “She’s gone riding with Lord Banbury and a few others. The Earl and Countess are among them. Lord Bentley and I stayed behind as I was feeling unwell earlier but that has passed.”
Gabriel could not contain the thread of possessiveness curling throughout his body. “When will she return?”
“I don’t know, but you have time to refresh yourself after your long journey before they come back to the manor.” Sara turned and smiled as her husband approached. “Bentley, look. Lord Rosenthorne has arrived.”
Alan grinned, shaking Gabriel’s hand as he drew near. “Back to claim your bride, I see.”
“Only to discover she is traipsing about the countryside with others,” Gabriel growled.
“And on your own horse, no less,” Alan remarked cheerfully. “Oh, do not fret, Rose. We all know Lady Celia’s skill when it comes to horseflesh. Arion is in excellent hands.”
Gabriel did not mind at all that Celia had taken Arion for her own use. Everything he had was hers anyway. A peculiar jolt of pleasure assailed him knowing she rode his horse by choice.
“And not to worry over Celia’s ankle injury,” Sara interjected helpfully. “It has healed completely. Indeed, she danced several times last night without a single twinge of discomfort.”
Again, Gabriel experienced the same disturbing twinge of possessiveness, only this time the string pulled taut around his heart like a cruel noose. Seven hells, if this was what marriage consisted of, this constant tug of worry and stomach-rolling uncertainty regarding his wife and her actions, he might not survive.
“Did she now?” he bit out.
“It was all great fun. I’m sorry you missed it, Rose. I’m sure we shall have more of the same tonight, and you shall have your opportunity to dance with her as well.” Sara glanced past Gabriel as a servant carried in the travel valises and stood expectantly. “Oh, here are your things. You do want them taken to your chambers so you can settle in, yes? The housekeeper has had everything ready for days, just waiting for you to come back.” Sara’s smile was graciously pointed. “We shall inform Celia of your arrival the minute she returns from her ride.”
CHAPTER21
Celia knocked on Gabriel’s door, tentatively at first, then with greater conviction.
She’d come straightaway upon learning he’d returned only an hour before. Ivy pointed out the way to his suite of rooms with a small grin while Celia clenched her teeth.
Her apparent eagerness to reunite with her recent fiancé was a source of amusement for both Ivy and Sara. Before Celie could escape their collective delight, Ivy leaned in close.
“No one shall disturb you. In fact, no one ever goes in Gabriel’s wing of the mansion with the exception of the maids.”
When horrified disgust crossed over Celia’s features, Ivy quickly shook her head. “Silly girl. Not forthat. They go only to accomplish the tasks for which they are employed. Sebastian would never stand for that sort of nonsense. Nor would I. And Gabriel, well, he would never do that in this house.”
And now, Celia stood in that corridor outside Gabriel’s door. Her leather-clad knuckles stung from rapping the thick English oak with increasing force. Her pulse raced with anticipation at seeing him again after so many weeks apart.
It was surprising, really. How much she’d come to enjoy his company, even when she’d tried so hard to avoid him.
She knocked again, her chin lifting.Why isn’t he answering?
Perhaps he was asleep. Or in the bath. Or maybe he wasn’t in his room at all. Or maybe a maid was in there after all and…
The door swung open with such abruptness that Celia was forced back a step in retreat.
Gabriel wore only a large white cloth wrapped about his body. The edges were tucked in on one corner, the material slung low on his hips.
Celia swallowed hard. She saw nothing else other than muscles. His chest, God, his chest was a vast expanse of smooth planes. Hard ridges. Bulges. A smattering of dark hair in the center called for her fingers to entwine and explore.
She felt a bit faint. Especially when her gaze dropped lower. The cloth draped so far she could see matching demarcations marking the outer portion of his pelvis. A trail of dark hair began just below Gabriel’s navel and disappeared into the white fabric. On his stomach, droplets of water glistened in the light of the corridor sconces. The liquid slid lazily along that trail of hair, holding Celia’s gaze hostage until the cloth finally absorbed it.
“Ahhh, my future wife graces me with her presence. And it appears you came straight from the stables, did you not?”
Startled by the simmering anger in his tone, Celia met his gaze. Her knees actually shook when she saw the flare of desire evident in the darkened depths.
“I came at once when they told me you were here.” She cleared her throat, hoping to sound a bit stronger than she felt. “So, it is done then? You are the new marquess and a special license has been granted for our marriage?”
