Page 48 of My Darling Rogue
Gabriel leaned onto the door jamb, one shoulder propped against the wooden frame. His hair was damp. Swept off his forehead, it curled a bit at the nape of his neck. It made him seem much younger, like an innocent, mischievous youth. A direct contradiction to the wicked scoundrel Celia knew him to be.
“So eager to become my wife,” he drawled.
“I’m anxious to avoid scandal,” she shot back in an elevated voice.
When a lock of hair flopped over his forehead, his scarred eyebrow lifting in disbelief, Celia nearly reached up with the intent of sweeping it back for him.
Her lips tightened and her hand clenched into a fist instead. She must remain immune to the rakish image he currently presented. Difficult though the task would be. “Did the queen give— “
“Yes, yes, my prickly sugarplum. And I would wed you tonight if your parents were here to witness the ceremony. The queen’s blessing means there will be no backing out of our engagement. Not that I would allow that.”
“I’ve no intention of jilting you at the altar, Lord Rosenthorne.” Celia took another step back into the safety of the corridor, but Gabriel caught her by the wrist.
His eyes deepened in color until they were a deep, rich hue. Almost as black as his thick eyelashes. His jaw tightened and he tugged her so close she could smell the sandalwood scent of his soap. The towel around his waist dipped even further.
Celia’s heart pounded with awareness. Beneath the fabric of her riding habit, her nipples hardened into tight buds. She could not forget the way he’d caressed her before. How he’d worshipped her with his tongue and teeth.
“You will call me by my given name, Celia. I am not a title where you are concerned.”
“The cloth,” Celia stuttered in her panic. “It is in danger of falling.”
“And if it does, you will see everything there is of me.” His tone was almost teasing, but in stark contrast, his face remained hard and unforgiving.
Celia could not determine if he was upset with her for being just outside his door, or perturbed she wasn’t already in his bed.
The bulge hidden by the fabric was growing larger by the second. What would it feel like to hold him in her hands? To caress him and drive him past the point of madness as he so effortlessly did to her? She licked her lips which were suddenly dry. What would he look like completely bared to her? His body was massive. His cock surely matched in proportion. Would she find it repulsing or exciting? Would it hurt when he pushed into her body?
More importantly, would he stop if she cried out?
“Christ, don’t look at me like that, Celia.”
His low murmur startled her. Realizing her gaze was practically assessing the area between his legs, she shook herself in an effort to regain her senses and peered up at him. “Like what?”
“Like you are as hungry for me as I am for you.”
“I-I don’t know what you mean.” She was rattled by his ravenous gaze and her body’s heated response. How could it be this man seemed the only one capable of inspiring such roiling emotions simply by looking at her?
“Yes. You know precisely what I mean.” Gabriel released her wrist with an exasperated sigh, taking a step back into his rooms. His hands gripped the edge of the door, his knuckles whitening. “But now is not the opportune time to address the matter. I cannot take you in hand in the manner you so desperately need and as I so fervently crave. I must wait until we are properly wed.”
Celia frowned. “Take me in hand?”
“Yes, my pet.” His eyes raked her form until a shiver of forewarning trickled down her spine.
She still wore her emerald green riding habit, complete with kid leather gloves dyed to match and a jaunty hat accentuated with a peacock plume. A short quirt used for guiding her horse while riding sidesaddle dangled from her wrist.
His gaze touched on it and a tiny smirk flickered across his firm lips.
There was that tingle in the pit of her stomach again. The one that recognized the darkness in Gabriel and in herself.
Whatever he was thinking was a complete mystery, but the man possessed the capability of looking through her and straight into her thoughts. Celia suspected Gabriel saw everything about her.
Without thinking of the consequences, she goaded him. “Will you be able to restrain yourself until we are married? I don’t believe it is possible.”
Gabriel’s nostrils flared in acknowledgment of her rash challenge.
“Is that so?” His melodic voice curled around Celia like a ribbon of sin. “I think you have no idea just what you are attempting to provoke. Do you want restraint, sugarplum, or do you wish to experience everything?”
“Everything.” She tossed back, trembling with her own boldness. And she did. No matter how frightening it might all be. She trusted him not to harm her, even if that belief was a reckless one.
