Page 62 of My Darling Rogue
Gabriel simply grinned, his arms tightening around Celia’s shoulders. “I shall come up with something, I’m sure.”
CHAPTER26
The first leg of the trip passed rather uneventfully. Celia was content watching the scenery pass by her window while Gabriel sat lost in his thoughts.
He’d never spent so much time alone with a woman before, at least not one who was truly a lady. Of course, there’d been many hours in the company of women whom he’d slept with, and a few of those ladies had been of the gentry. But those incidents were pale, colorless events when compared to the moments he enjoyed with Celia.
Everything about her was fascinating. From the curve of her jaw to the straight line of her nose. And her eyes. God help him, but staring into them was as if he were drowning in huge vats of melted chocolate. The sooty thickness of her lashes intrigued him with every downward sweep. He wondered what she was thinking as she stared out the window. Did she regret marrying a man who was essentially a stranger?
There were little things about his new wife that Gabriel wanted to peel away, layer by layer. Things like the unmistakable air of innocence that clung to her like a sweet perfume. Why was that, when she’d admitted she was no longer a virgin? Who had she been with? Someone from her social circle? Someone she interacted with even now?
Despite his statement that he did not care what she’d done in the past, Gabriel was discovering that held no truth. He was not curious because of any censorship of her behavior, but rather he was ravenous to know what made his little wife who she truly was beneath that glittering social veneer. He wanted to know what made her laugh. Made her cry. What she liked most about him. Whether she liked her hands bound during sex or if she preferred to initiate exploration.
Yes, there were many things he’d yet to learn about Lady Celia Buchanan Rosenthorne. Many of those would be answered the first time they made love, and while he was dying to uncover every secret she possessed, he could not explain why he’d not taken her yet.
It had not felt right taking her under Ravenswood’s roof. True, he’d already crossed so many boundaries when it came to establishing intimacy, but their first time together as man and wife should be done in his domain. In his home. In his bed. Where he was lord and master.
That type of chauvinistic attitude was commonplace among theton.Gabriel attributed his own tendencies to the fact he was naturally dominant. Regardless of his upbringing and new elevation to Marquess, he’d always dictated his own path in life. He’d done as he pleased, when he pleased, with whomever he pleased. From the age of sixteen, he’d charted his own course and people followed him because of it.
Life as a marquess would probably exacerbate this forceful trait he carried. He already recognized the change in his demeanor. He demanded and others obeyed, or at the very least, deferred to his wishes.
It was partly the reason he’d instructed Sebastian and Heath to see to Lord Harvey’s release from the constable’s custody. Now that Gabriel was wed to Celia, the man wouldn’t dare infringe on his claim. He no longer posed a threat and had hopefully learned a valuable lesson.
Staring at the slender fingers of his wife’s hand as she absently removed her traveling gloves, Gabriel wondered how well Celia would accept being commanded. She would probably resist at first, but he sensed a submissive spirit hiding behind all of her feistiness. He would delight in uncovering it for their mutual pleasure and bringing it to the surface.
Only one more night to endure, this one spent in a sleepy inn on the road to Rosenthorne Park, and then he would find out for himself if his wife would do anything he asked of her.
* * *
Celia napped cuddledagainst Gabriel as the coach moved in almost a measured cadence. The drivers called out to the horses occasionally, and the popping of a whip interspersed their shouted commands. The vehicle’s rocking motion was often jolted by a wheel landing in a hole and rolling through it, but it was a much smoother ride than it might have been.
How Celia slept at all was a mystery. This journey was an excellent reminder of why Gabriel preferred riding as a means of travel. While traveling by coach was intended as a comfortable way of reaching one’s destination, the brawniness of his size made that impossible. His shoulders took up most of the seat’s cushioned back, and his legs, when stretched, reached the opposite bench with no room to spare.
He shifted in an attempt at becoming more comfortable, and in doing so, disturbed Celia’s slumber. Her brow creased in a tiny frown as she tried readjusting her cramped position.
I should move to the opposite bench. She’ll have more room and I can watch over her.
But even the thought of riding in reverse made Gabriel’s mouth water with sour nausea. This particular weakness was a curse. It was not just carriages which had this effect on him. Traveling by boat did as well. He’d thought he would actually perish when crossing from France to England alongside Sebastian two years ago.
“So, it’s seasickness bringing the mighty Gabriel Rose down to his knees?” Sebastian had laughingly asked while Gabriel hung his head over the side of the ship that first hour on board. He’d not had the strength or willpower to dispute the earl’s assumption then.
The memory brought a wry grin to Gabriel’s features. That was the last time he’d been on the water for any reason. Even now, he was loathe to even try paddling a rowboat around a small pond.
Celia sighed, making a little sound of frustration as she moved her shoulders until she sat upright rather than snuggled under Gabriel’s arm. Therewasa simple solution. He could move, giving her the entire bench.
Gritting his teeth, Gabriel slowly slid Celia away from his body. He lowered her to the bench while at the same time, he moved to the opposite side.
For a long moment, he quietly sat as the coach rocked along. It was a beautiful day, the sun shining bright overhead as the noon hour approached. Soon, they would stop to water the horses and dine on the meal Ivy had Cook prepare for them and the coach drivers. Packed in an enclosed wicker basket, it barely fit in the baggage compartment when the luggage was also added.
Gabriel leaned against the seat cushion. Perhaps this wasn’t as bad as he remembered, this riding backward. If he concentrated hard, he could almost forget he was not facing forward.
Glancing at Celia, now stretched on the opposite bench like a cat lounging in the sun, made matters much easier to bear. She mumbled in utter contentment, her body curved into a fetal position and head pillowed by an outstretched arm. Her opposite hand curled under her chin, and the traveling gloves she’d held in her lap for the last hour drifted to the floor in a small heap of blush pink kid leather.
Gabriel decided he would retrieve them in a few minutes. Right now, he found enjoyment in watching Celia sleep. Her expressions, from pensive to relaxed, proved endlessly fascinating. Enough that he could almost ignore his increasing nausea.
The coach hit a rather nasty rut in the road, and Gabriel bit back a groan while at the same time reaching out to steady Celia on her solitary bench. He did not wish to see her go flying off the cushion. Using his hand, he braced it upon her hip and held her in place.
Another hole and Gabriel felt sweat bead up along the edge of his hairline. A grunt slipped from his throat as the coach lurched sideways.
