Page 55 of My Darling Rogue
On a table near the fireplace, he noted a decanter of brandy and a glass. The decanter verged on empty.
Gabriel frowned. Had she imbibed more than the single drought he’d allowed her?
With a sigh, he sat on a bench positioned at the end of the bed and began removing his clothes. He’d slept in the nude for years and had no intention of changing his habits now, regardless of the risk he might offend his new wife.
But perhaps this was not the night he should insist on such matters.Select your battles carefully now. And plunder the rewards later.
After pulling on a thin pair of muslin sleeping pants, he padded back over to the bed, and for a moment, stood looking at Celia. She faced away from him, her hair streaming over the pillows in a gorgeous, ebony-hued banner of silky waves. He could just make out the linear curve of her body beneath the coverlet, and her position was such that he could see the shell-like crescent of her ear and the softness of her rounded shoulder. Her hand was curled upon the pillow, her palm open, her breathing measured and relaxed.
Moving as quietly as possible, he pulled the covers back and then reached to turn the lamp down.
“Please don’t extinguish the lamp.”
A thread of concern laced through Celia’s softly spoken request. She remained lying as she was, the words directed from over her shoulder. Gabriel was puzzled by the directive, but he did as she asked.
“All right.” He hesitated for a moment, then slid into the bed, settling himself beneath the sheets and propping his pillows just so behind his head. Lying there beside her, he breathed deep of her unique perfume and waited to see what she might say next. In all honesty, he wasn’t quite sure what to do with a woman in his bed with whom he had no intention of making love.
“Thank you,” Celia breathed. The words came out only slightly slurred, but Gabriel caught the subtleness of how the brandy affected her.
“Celia,” he murmured, placing a hand on her shoulder and pulling her until she lay on her back, staring up at him. The flickering light cast by the lamp illuminated her features, and he was shocked to see fear dancing in the dark depths of her eyes. “How much did you drink?”
Her giggle ended in a half-sob. “Enough? Maybe more?” She flinched when his hand cradled her jaw and slid into her hair.
“You were only to have one glass, sugarplum,” he admonished. Why was she suddenly behaving as if she were frightened of him? Did she think his demeanor toward her would change simply because they were wed now? Yes, it was true he would spank her on occasion, and punishments would certainly be a part of her life due to her naturally defiant nature, but never would he intentionally harm her.
Indeed, he had a gut feeling Celia would enjoy the punishments he crafted with her in mind. She’d already exhibited a shy willingness when it came to exploring the darker aspect of sexual relationships. But he certainly had no desire of terrorizing his beautiful little wife.
“You cannot tell me how much I shall drink or not drink, Gabriel,” she mumbled with false bravado. “You don’townme, you know. And besides, I needed it to get through this night.”
“Silly girl. Of course, I will tell you what you can and cannot do. You are my responsibility now and one I do not take lightly. My instructions, my rules, are always intended to keep you safe. Even if you believe they are capricious and unfair.”
“This whole ordeal is unfair!” she cried out, attempting unsuccessfully to jerk away from his caressing hand.
He simply tightened his hand in her hair, and while she groaned at the pressure, it did not stop the flow of her confused words. “It is unfair you have married me when I do not know your feelings for me. It is unfair that I don’t even understand my feelings for you. It is unfair I melt each time you touch me. And it is unfair that I am so frightened of what you might do to me that I cannot bear it.”
“Shhhh,” Gabriel soothed her, the hand previously tangled in her hair now sliding to cup the nape of her neck. He could better control her in this manner, and he held her fast with that hand while the other slid across the flat plane of her stomach and curled around her waist. She was caught now, unable to move away unless he allowed it. “Calm yourself, Celia. There is nothing to be afraid of. I’ve no intention of making love to you, if that’s what has you in such a state. I realize more than you can know now is not the time to exert my power to do as I wish. You are exhausted and overwrought with emotions. And soused as well. Tonight, we share only a bed and the comfort of one another’s arms.”
Celia stilled in her efforts of escaping his embrace. “You… you will only hold me?” The last word was accompanied by a hiccup of relief. Her breath, sweet with brandy, brushed across his lips, and Gabriel steeled himself against the reaction of his own body. He would not make love to her, but damned if his body was receiving the message on that front.
The soft, creamy hue of her nightclothes was a perfect foil to her dark hair and dark eyes. She was the Devil’s own temptress. Gabriel wanted to unwrap her from the confines of that silken gown, expose her bit by bit to his hungry gaze, and feast upon her sweet skin until he was drunk with lust. Damn Ivy and Sara for dressing her in such provocative clothing.
“Yes. That is all,” he answered with some difficulty. Desire made his voice husky and low. “But I know you disobeyed me. You drank more of that brandy than you should have. And there are consequences for instances of disobedience. But not tonight, pet. Tonight, we sleep. And later, we’ll discuss your punishment.”
Celia slowly relaxed as he spoke, believing him when he said nothing intimate would occur. Rather sleepily, she sank back into the pillows with a hum, her eyes closing from the warmth of his body surrounding her like a welcomed blanket.
“You can’t punish me,” she said, snuggling closer with a confused frown at her own compliance. “I’m a marchioness now, and husbands do not punish marchionesses.”
Gabriel smoothed Celia’s hair back away from her brow, watching as she slipped into sleep. He could not ignore how her hand crept up until it now rested on his bare chest. It seared his skin like a firebrand.
Reclining against the pillows, he folded his hand over hers, holding it there with gentle force. A smile tipped the corners of his mouth up as he considered the drowsy, inebriated assertions she made.
His new wife had much to learn about what her husband would do to her, marchioness or not.
And how much she would come to enjoy it.
* * *
At some pointduring the night, Gabriel lowered the light of the lamp until it was almost extinguished. Then he lay awake for a long time, one arm propped behind his head, the other pinned to the mattress by the weight of his new wife.
