Page 40 of A Bride By Morning
“Leave it alone, Caro.”
Yet, he found his attention drawn to Lydia. She laughed at something Lady Arundell said, and the sight of it dislodged the shards of ice within him. Ice he needed to keep. Ice that would protect her from him.
“Monty,” Caroline said in a low voice. “Consider how rare it is to be given a second chance with someone.” Her lips twisted. “Many are not so fortunate.”
Lydia said her last goodbye to Lady Arundell and started toward Gabriel. Her eyes met his, and that abnormal joy sank inside him again. This time, he shoved it down and reconstructed his layers of ice and frost. Caroline was correct—many people weren’t so fortunate.
But he had to choose Lydia’s life over his happiness.
17
Lydia stared at her husband on the other side of the carriage as they traveled back to Meadowcroft.
The lone swaying lamp near the window cast deep shadows across Gabriel’s austere face, leaving no softened edges. Instead, his harsh features communicated a warning as clear as the regard of a lethal animal:stay away. Approach me at your risk.
What on earth happened while Lydia communicated their goodbyes to Lady Arundell? She’d noticed Gabriel’s distance when she returned to him in the foyer, where he waited with the Duchess of Hastings. Oh, he was still polite—as they said their farewells to the other guests, his smile had been as bright and dazzling as a spring day. Lydia, too, had almost been convinced that she’d imagined it.
But when he took her arm, Gabriel’s touch hadn’t lingered. There were no scorching glances in her direction. When he nudged her into the carriage with a hand at her back, the contact was brief and impersonal.
And once the conveyance door shut, Gabriel’s deceitful smile had vanished, and he settled into his seat with the cold countenance of a statue.
The transformation left Lydia’s thoughts discordant. Each passing kilometer of their journey matched the distance of his mind. How could he be a mere arm’s length from her and still seem to exist an entire continent away? He was as isolated as a ship anchored in the broadest ocean, surrounded by jagged, impervious glacier fields.
How was this the same man who stared at Lydia earlier as if she were a strange and beautiful treasure?
Meanwhile, Lydia was left with shattered armor. He’d impaired her defenses and left her vulnerable to the elements. Open to harm.
Utterly, utterly exposed.
A surge of anger and frustration flared within her. How could Gabriel sit there so calmly while she was frayed and damaged? Her fingernails curled into her dress. She wanted to smash through Gabriel’s own fortifications, crack him apart, leave him unguarded. Let him know how it felt to be raw and exposed.
An idea came to her as she stared at him in the dimmed carriage. She did not have to bear the weight of her vulnerability alone; the darkness could give her courage.
Lydia leaned forward and set her palm against his trouser-clad knee. His sharp inhale gratified her as she coasted her fingers slowly up his muscular thigh.
Gabriel’s hand came down over hers. “What are you doing?” His voice was as remote as a tundra, but she had heard his response moments ago, and she knew her husband was a consummate actor.
“Touching you. I should think that was obvious.”
But when she tried to move again, he gripped her. “Lydia.”
Very well, she had other means of splintering his icy walls. Lydia pulled his hand to her and pressed her lips to his knuckles. “Gabriel.”
She grazed her teeth across the back of his wrist, and Gabriel made a faint noise. “When I married you, I hadn’t realized I’d wedded the most concupiscent woman in the fucking country.”
Lydia wondered if he intended his sharp words to drive her away. Instead, it only hardened her resolve. She leaned forward, her lips finding his with unerring accuracy.
Gabriel gripped her arms and broke the kiss. “Lydia.”
Her chest rose and fell in agitation. “If I’m lustful, perhaps it’s because my husband implied earlier that I might expect something other than a frigid reception in this carriage.”
Gabriel’s regard was sharp, those shadowed eyes searching hers. For a moment, she wondered if he would reject her. If he would set Lydia against the other side of the carriage as if he were putting her in a boat and sending it out to sea.
“Then tell me what you want,” he said, his voice ragged. Proof of his icy defenses splintering. “Speak plain.”
She comprehended then that she could shatter him. “I want your hand beneath my skirts,” she whispered. “I want you to touch me back.”
Gabriel gave a rough, savage growl and slammed his lips against hers. Lydia groaned as he pressed her against the side of the carriage and shoved her knees apart.
