Page 66 of My Darling Rogue
Celia’s rebellious side flared.
“I shall go to our room on my own if you are going to be so beastly. I do not require your escort.”
She went to stand, but Gabriel halted her immediately. His hand snaked out, snagging her wrist in a tight grip. He squeezed until she sucked in a breath. “You’ve no idea how beastly I can truly be,mon douce fille. I would suggest you cease this attempt at making me angry, lest you find out.”
“I’m makingyouangry?” Her eyebrows shot upward, twin arches of indignation. “I’m retiring, Gabriel. Whether you like it or not. You are my husband, not my master.”
Gabriel gave her a considering look as a tiny smile lifted the corners of his mouth. Still keeping hold of her wrist, he raised his free hand and summoned the innkeeper. As the man hurried over, his expression harried from dealing with the many patrons crowded into the dining area, Gabriel downed the remainder of his ale.
“Mister Jonsey, will you please see that two meals are delivered up to our room? My wife is feeling unwell and requires my immediate attention.”
* * *
Celia flounced aheadof Gabriel as they traipsed the inn’s corridors to reach their assigned room even as her husband held fast to her arm. His fingers were a tight vise wrapping just above her elbow, and while a relaxed smile played about his lips, she felt the tension coursing through him.
Truly, she did not understand just why she was in fact so very angry with him. He could not be held accountable for situations in his past, just as she could not be held responsible for her own. Perhaps Gabriel was correct in his assessment, however. Maybe she was jealous.
Jealous of a pretty barmaid with intimate knowledge of her husband.
I should not care how many women he’s been with. I shouldn’t. And I’m not. I just prefer not having them so blatantly paraded in front of me. And I won’t be commanded as though I am some hapless pet he’s recently acquired. I will do just as I please. As I’ve always done.
“Your thoughts are so very loud, Celia. I hear every single one of them.” Using a key, Gabriel turned the lock on the door to their room and pushed her inside. “In a few moments, you will lack the ability to think at all. You will only be able to feel.”
Giving him a mutinous glare, Celia stood by the window. A few of their bags had previously been placed there by the two Ravenswood coach drivers. Those same men were down in the dining room, enjoying a pint of ale. They’d watched closely when Celia confronted the barmaid. She knew they were also there for her protection. To assist Gabriel if any trouble should emerge during the trip to Rosenthorne.
The corner room was probably the largest The Gilded Rooster offered their guests. It was brightly lit with the warm glow of lamps and a small fire burning in the grate. A bed which appeared surprisingly comfortable was positioned in front of a second window while a sturdy dressing table occupied the other corner. Its mirror reflected Celia where she stood. There was even a small table flanked by two oak chairs where one could sit and dine.
Gabriel closed the room’s door and, with deliberate movements, removed his suit coat. It was thrown over the edge of the bed.
“Take off your gloves, Celia.”
For a brief second, she considered disobeying him. Perhaps he ordered other women around, women like that silly Tessa, but she would not be bullied. Her chin tilted higher.
Gabriel’s scarred eyebrow rose slightly, daring her to attempt defiance.
With a shrug, Celia abruptly stripped the gloves away. She threw them so they landed on top of his coat.
Without a word, Gabriel caught one of the two chairs with the toe of his boot and dragged it away from the table. Sitting down, he watched her silently for a long moment, then said, “Remove your travel jacket.”
Celia grit her teeth. Would he have her disrobe completely before him? While he sat like a king on a wooden throne and commanded her?
“You’ve no need for it here, pet.”
That was true. Beneath the emerald green, short-waisted jacket was a lovely gown of a paler shade of green, its trim matching the jacket.
Gabriel leaned forward, resting his forearms on the top of his thighs. Peering at her from beneath a sweep of dark eyelashes, he said, “You will do as I say, Celia. Even if you are angry with me.”
She nearly stomped her foot in her fury. “No, I will not.”
“You are racking up quite a list of infractions.” His smile was dangerous, sending a responding heat trickling through Celia’s veins. She shivered although she was becoming quite warm from his gaze. “Not including those incurred before our marriage.”
He might have been the Devil himself in that moment. Staring at him from across the room, Celia made note of the silky darkness of his hair. The fiery light in his eyes. The way his lips curved upward in a smirk constructed of both sinful pleasures and punishments.
“I will find great enjoyment in collecting your penance.” His voice was a low husky promise.
Before Celia could respond, a knock came at the door.
“Who is it?” Gabriel called out, keeping Celia pinned to the spot with the fierceness of his gaze.
