Page 67 of In Search of a Husband
He knew instantly he had made a mistake but sat down, focusing on the dinner he had made them, feeling all the while her gaze burning over his body, imploring him to look back.
Not now.
Not later.
The last thread of his better judgment was about to snap.
He kept his eyes trained on his plate as he sliced into the buttery beefsteak. Shallots and butter and gravy pooled around the piece of meat. It wasn’t fancy as when he had eaten at Le Grand Véfour in Paris, but he wished to cook for her. He wished to keep her warm and keep her in beautiful things, make her pant his name, and experience endless pleasure at his hands and mouth and body.
Because she deserved it.
And instead, a selfish cad in London had ruined that for her.
“This is very good,” she said at last, breaking the awkward silence that had fallen between them.
“Thank ye.”
Kate placed her silverware down and pursed her lips, resting her elbows on the table. “I fear I have upset you in some way, and I must?—”
“Nae.” Gabriel froze. “Ye…”
She traced her hands over the rough-hewn table that had been used for years in the castle before slowly reconnecting their gaze.
“Are the custards ready?” he asked instead.
Kate laughed, then glanced away, grabbing her glass of claret. “In a while. Let’s enjoy dinner for now.”
The uncomfortableness passed between them, and they enjoyed dinner. Gabriel found himself laughing, truly laughing for the first time in years as Kate danced around the kitchen and prepped dessert.
“What are ye doing now?” he asked, washing the last of the dishes.
She held a bowl to her waist and poured in fresh cream. “Whipping cream for the topping.”
Always humming, she sang to herself as she moved the whisk through the cream. The dark candlelight bounced off the low barrel ceilings. The small room was warm and smelled amazing, and if Gabriel hadn’t just eaten, he would be starving.
Kate finished off each ramekin with a dollop of fresh cream. He produced two spoons, and she grabbed one, spinning back to rest against the wooden worktop.
“Bon appétit.” The apples of her cheeks were pink, her eyes sparkled, and she was full of sun and light. Gabriel wished for nothing but to touch her, to claim her as his. Greedy, he knew. He didn’t wish to dim that light of hers.
With a small bite, she moaned and slammed her eyes shut. “Delicious, if I say so myself.”
He approached, his attention focused solely on her and that mouth of hers. He would do whatever she wished if only she made that sound once more.
“Ye’ve…” He motioned toward her mouth.
She squeaked, trying to wipe off the whipped cream. “Is it gone?”
Gabriel shook his head, putting his dessert down and closing the space between them. He placed his thumb on the corner of her mouth, then bent down, and kissed her.
No, kiss isn’t the right word. He claimed her with his lips.
Kate fell back, setting her dessert on the table, and met his lips in equal measure.
“Ye taste better,” he growled.
She whimpered, wrapping her legs around his waist.
“I’m a starved man,mo leannan, so tell me ye feel the same.”
