Page 56 of A Bride By Morning
The following afternoon came and went as Gabriel readied for their journey to Devon.
Servants had spent the better part of the day packing his and Lydia’s trunks, and Gabriel utilized the time to scout the estate. Past an outcropping of trees, he’d discovered discarded cheroots, but there was no indication of how recently they were smoked. His exploration yielded nothing else, but he felt watched from a secure vantage, and he couldn’t tell if the sensation was entirely in his mind or if his instincts warned him like the clanging of bells.
Wentworth traveled from London with his men to ensure Lydia and Gabriel’s secure departure. The carriage ride to Devon would take until the early morning hours, and there would be little time to rest. Gabriel was used to the discomfort of long detours, but Lydia would be in for a difficult night.
Gabriel’s mind strayed to the previous evening as he supervised the servants loading the carriages along the dark drive. He had told her about Moscow, and she’d still looked at him as if there was nothing fractured in him, and she still found him a man worthy of her affection.
It’s your life that occupies my mind, Gabriel St. Clair.
God, but he had so few defenses left against her. She had overpowered every fortification to inscribe herself into the very structure of his thoughts, an intaglio across his entire heart.
He could no longer rely on the iciness that once comprised his foundations. Now, he would have to come up with something else—some new manner of defense against her.
One day soon, he was going to have to leave her.
A noise pulled him from his distraction as Wentworth moved to stand beside him. “You’re sure about this?”
Gabriel dipped his head in a nod and took a sip of his whiskey. “Medvedev knows a challenge when he sees one. With Vladimir gone, he’s absent an enforcer in a foreign city.”
“You don’t think he’ll wait to regroup?”
“No.” Gabriel watched Callahan direct one of the servants to pack a trunk atop one of the three waiting carriages. “Medvedev will say he’s through waiting. If his sharpshooter was confident enough to take a shot at Lydia and flee through my property, then they’ll return. I can’t keep her here.”
Even the few hours they had spent preparing for their travel set Gabriel on edge. Wentworth’s men were scouting the premises, but the next stray bullet sent by an assassin might not miss.
The reminder made Gabriel’s hand constrict around his snifter. Lydia would never be safe as long as Gabriel was near.
You brought this disorder into her life,he reminded himself.That’s why you have to let her go. You can’t have her.
“I understand,” Wentworth said quietly.
Guilt flared hot in his stomach. What Wentworth went through was Gabriel’s worst imagined torment: to find his wife murdered. To grieve her loss and wonder if he could have done more.
No, he couldn’t keep Lydia at Meadowcroft. He didn’t give a damn anymore about killing Medvedev; he just wanted her safe.
“Any word on Medvedev’s movements?” Gabriel asked, taking another drink of his whiskey. The spirits burned through his throat on the way down. It matched the fire in his bloodstream that had replaced all that ice.
“Nothing yet,” Wentworth said. “I’ve had my men keep their ear to tavern doors, and there have been some rumblings of a man matching Medvedev’s description, but nothing I can verify. I’ve allocated more spies to the East End; it’s only a matter of time before they find something.”
“Keep me apprised while I’m gone,” Gabriel said, setting his empty snifter on the table. That half-finger of whiskey was all he could allow before their journey. “I’ll have my staff visit the telegraph office.”
“Will do.”
Fabric rustled just beyond the door. A moment later, Lydia strolled into the room, wearing a wool traveling dress fastened to the base of her throat. Gabriel’s notice lingered on that long, orderly row of buttons that left her appearance so prim. An intense surge of lust flared as hot as a blaze through his body. Those neat little buttons were just waiting to be flicked open to reveal the pretty floral corset and undergarments she favored. Beneath that, the smooth expanse of skin that he had yet to acquaint himself with properly. He still needed to kiss her everywhere.
The awareness of what she looked like beneath all those layers of tidy clothes was a privilege granted to him alone. He nearly smiled his approval at the thought.
Lydia’s gaze caught his, and a faint blush crept over her face.
He wondered how far that blush spread beneath her dress.
She softly cleared her throat and shifted her attention to Wentworth. “Mr. Wentworth,” she said. He took her hand and proffered a kiss over her knuckles. “First, you see us before we departed from London, and now here at Meadowcroft. I regret that our acquaintance has yet to extend beyond a swift exit.”
Wentworth smiled politely. “When you’re back in London, you must visit my residence for dinner. It hasn’t had guests in years.”
Lydia laughed and then cast Gabriel another glance. The flare of desire in her face compromised his balance. He wanted her again. He longed to carry her back up to the bedchamber. If he had that choice, she wouldn’t leave his arms until morning.
Lydia’s blush deepened. Gabriel almost smiled as he pictured the rest of her pale skin pinkened from the thought of fucking him.
