Page 59 of My Darling Rogue
Gabriel glanced over a shoulder, confusion etched across his features. Upon realizing Celia was staring unabashedly at his naked body, he grinned.
“Sorry, sugarplum, but you will become used to seeing me thus. I usually sleep in the nude.”
Since his sleeping pants were unusable, Gabriel half turned and tugged the gold-colored coverlet from the bed. He quickly wrapped the length of damask around his waist but not before Celia glimpsed just a small portion of his impressive front. She blushed a fierce red, remembering how she’d boldly taken his flesh into her mouth. Remembering how much she liked it and how she’d felt like a beloved goddess suddenly subservient to a more powerful ruler.
Gabriel tsk-tsked. His eyes sparkled with mischievous intent. “Keep looking at me like that, pet, and I’ll send whoever’s pounding on that door straight to the Devil. Then, I’ll make good on the invitation your eyes are extending.”
Celia should have looked away with that ominous warning, but instead, her gaze locked with Gabriel’s. As they measured one another for a long moment, a new sense of connectivity linked the two of them. Whatever happened from this day forward, they were in it together.
“Stay in here, Celia,” Gabriel said in a more somber tone than before. “You aren’t exactly dressed for company this early in the morning. And if trouble has come looking for us, I’d rather you not prove so accessible.”
Wide-eyed, Celia nodded and watched as Gabriel padded from the bedroom and into the sitting room portion of the suite. As an afterthought, he drew the door behind him, leaving it cracked open so Celia was not left isolated.
The moment he was out of sight, Celia slid from the bed, pulling on the matching wrapper to her nightgown. She quickly hurried to the door and peered through the opening.
Gabriel strode across the room as best he could with a coverlet draped around his hips. He flung open the door with a low snarl.
“What the Devil do you want?”
The answer came in a swift punch to his jaw. Gabriel stumbled back, barely managing to maintain his grip on the coverlet.
“Where is she, you reprobate?” Tristan demanded in a low voice filled with rage. “Where is my sister?”
Gabriel rubbed his jaw and faced his new brother-in-law with a rueful shake of his head. “In my bed. Where she should be.”
Tristan glared at Gabriel. “You just gave me the reason I need to kill you.”
Gabriel’s eyebrows rose high. “Why would you do that?”
“Why? It is enough that you have ruined her! Now, you are brazenly going about the business of shaming her. I’ll have your head for this, Gabriel. Friend or no.”
“Your sister has not suffered at my hand,” Gabriel said calmly, brushing away a tiny drop of blood from his lower lip. “What are you doing here anyway? Did you arrive with your parents?”
“The entire countryside is abuzz with news of your potential rise in station. Along with the rumor you have thoroughly compromised my sister,” Tristan growled. “I came the moment I received word. And it doesn’t matter, but I passed my parents on the road an hour ago. They told me of your plans to wed Celia, but I don’t intend on allowing that to happen. Now, Rose, do you prefer pistols? Or rapiers?” The use of the old surname was done intentionally by Tristan. He did not know the title of Marquess was already bestowed upon Gabriel.
Celia pushed through the door, surprising both men with her sudden appearance. “You shall choose neither! Will you make me a widow before I’ve a chance to be a wife, brother?”
Tristan exhaled a sigh of relief upon seeing his sister, furious though she may be.
“Celia, sweetheart, are you all right?” Tristan exclaimed, stepping around Gabriel. He gave her a quick embrace, looking her over as if she suffered numerous injuries, although truly, he was the one who looked the worse for wear. His hair was wet and tangled from the wind and morning dew. His coat was askew, and his boots flecked with mud left imprints on the floor rug. Eyes wild and dark with worry, he examined her more closely. His jaw tightened when he realized she wore only her nightclothes. “What are you doing here in his chambers?”
Gabriel waved a hand in Celia’s direction with an air of exasperation. “Explain it to him, pet. I doubt he will listen to me.”
Tristan shot Gabriel a deadly stare before turning back to his sister.
“Come away with me, Celia,” he urged in a heated plea. “I can scarcely believe Ravenswood approves of Gabriel’s actions, but the moment our parents arrive we will leave Beaumont at once and—"
“I’m not leaving, Tristan, at least not until Gabriel decides we should. I am where I am meant to be. After all, we were married last night. A rather hasty ceremony, but one deemed necessary.” Celia pulled her robe tighter around her body at Tristan’s expression of confusion. “You see, Lord Harvey took it upon himself to try and abduct me to save me from marriage to Gabriel. It was decided I’d be safer as a marchioness, rather than just as the future fiancée of a marquess. This is why we did not wait for Mother and Father’s arrival.”
“Married,” Tristan repeated the word as though in shock.
“That’s right. Married.” Gabriel raked a hand through his hair, settling the dark strands into some semblance of order. He tightened his grip on the coverlet. “Do you think I would dishonor Celia and the lord and lady of this house in such a manner were she not my wife?”
Before he could answer, Celia leveled a stern look upon Tristan. “Did you leave Violet behind? She let you come without her?”
“I came by horseback as it was the quickest way of reaching Beaumont. You know she’s not an accomplished rider. Yet.” Tristan had the good grace to look somewhat ashamed of his hasty rush to judgment. “She did beg me not to do anything foolish.”
“And yet, here you are,” Gabriel mumbled.
