Page 63 of My Darling Rogue
Damn it to hell.
With a deep breath, he leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees. Concentrating on Celia’s features might help steady his constitution. He took another deep breath, dropping his head in an effort to quell the sickness.
When his head lifted, it was to find Celia’s eyes wide open, watching him.
“Why are you over there, Gabriel?”
Her question was softly asked. Concern glinted in the chocolate depths of her gaze.
“Watching you.” His reply was just as soft.
“But your aversion—"
“Doesn’t matter.”
He reached out, brushing back an ebony curl that had fallen over her brow. Celia moved as if to sit up but Gabriel stopped her. His hand lightly gripped her shoulder, keeping her in a prone position.
“Stay as you are,” he murmured, swallowing hard when the coach lurched in the opposite direction.
“No,” Celia said. “This is silly. And I’ll not have it.” She brushed away his hand and pushed herself up. “Come here.”
Grasping a handful of Gabriel’s coat lapel, Celia tugged him back onto the bench beside her. Then, in a surprising move, she hitched up her skirts and straddled him as though he were a new pony.
“There,” she breathed through a smile. “That’s much better, don’t you think?”
“Just what do you think you are doing, Celia?” Gabriel gritted through his teeth.
“Making you forget about being sick,” she whispered, running a hand through the thickness of his hair. Her fingers lightly traced the pale white scar tracking diagonally through his eyebrow. “How did you get this, Gabriel? I’ve always wondered and now… now, I’ve the courage to ask.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
She frowned but her fingers remained gentle, ghosting over the old wound until Gabriel wanted to close his eyes and muzzle into the palm of her hand. “To me it does.”
A bump in the road sent Celia’s lower body colliding with his in the best way possible. It was like a lightning bolt striking between his legs. He tensed, trying to stave off the urge to grind his growing erection against her softness.
“May I kiss you, Gabriel?” Her voice was low and husky, her eyes dancing with mysterious lights. “And for every kiss, will you tell me one of your secrets?”
“You never need permission to kiss me, sugarplum. All of those belong to you now. But if we are to trade secrets, I will demand the same of you. All those you carry deep inside you are mine now. And I will have them. One by one or all at once.”
Her features immediately tightened, the teasing mood evaporating like the morning mist. “I’ve no more secrets to tell.”
Gabriel’s hand wrapped lightly around her throat, his thumb teasing the pulse beating there in the delicate hollow. “But I think you do. And as I said, those belong to me now. Everything about you is mine.” His free hand slipped around her body and cupped one of her buttocks in a firm grip. Even through the fabric of her gown and her underclothes, his fingers were hard reminders of his overwhelming strength. He was so much larger than she. So much stronger.
Her breath came in short gasps of air as he simply held her in place, poised like a beautiful statue on his thighs.
“Gabriel…”
His name fluttered on her lips in a plea for more.
“Yes, pet,” he rasped. “A secret for a kiss. Starting this very moment.” His fingers tightened slowly, both around her neck and on her buttocks. “You go first.”
Her eyes flared with heat. “That is unfair. I asked you first. And I was distracting you from being ill.”
Gabriel chuckled. He found it amusing how she believed she had the upper hand. While her ploy did work—his nausea had passed—she’d soon learn he controlled their interactions. Yes, she held the power to determine their duration, but he held the reins to the outcome.
“And I’ve said before that you will find many things to be unfair as my wife. As my marchioness.” He tilted her head back by exerting pressure at the nape of her neck. “Now, do you want that kiss or not? A secret first.”
She trembled at the sternness of his voice, and just when Gabriel thought their game was at its end, she licked her lips.
