the unwelcome desire she had stirred to life.
Refusing to consider the knowledge that for the first time since taking on the heavy duties of Earl of Ashcombe he was tossing aside his commonsense on a mere whim, Gabriel left the posting inn and headed back to London with fervid speed.
For all his haste, however, night had fully descended by the time he reached the city. He cursed at the elegant carriages that jammed the cobblestone streets and the hordes of drunken bucks who spilled along the walkways. It seemed that all of society had descended upon Mayfair, making it all but impossible to reach his townhouse.
At last he entered the alley that led to his private mews and, leaving his horse in the care of a uniformed groom, Gabriel used the back entrance to enter his house and make his way to the upper chambers.
He moved with a silence that ensured he would not disturb the servants. He had no desire to announce his return. These few hours of madness would be forgotten the moment dawn arrived.
Reaching his rooms, he wrestled out of his clothing without the assistance of his valet and pulled on a richly embroidered robe over his already aroused body. Then, ignoring the fact he was behaving more like a common thief than the Earl of Ashcombe, he snuffed out the candles and glided through the dark corridors to the blue chambers.
Silently he pressed open Talia’s door, a smile of anticipation curving his lips at the knowledge she hadn’t turned the lock.
Resignation or invitation?
There was only one way to discover.
Stepping over the threshold, Gabriel closed the door and leaned against the wooden panels, covertly turning the key. At the same moment his gaze skimmed over the pretty rosewood furnishings, his heart slamming against his ribs as a slender form slowly rose from the window seat across the room.
He should have been amused. Or perhaps horrified.
At some point in the evening she had removed the wedding dress and replaced it with a ghastly monstrosity that he assumed was a nightgown. Christ. For a gentleman accustomed to females who understood a man enjoyed being teased and tantalized in the boudoir, he had never seen anything that resembled the yards and yards of white linen that swathed Talia from her chin to her toes. It looked like a funeral shroud. And to make matters worse, there were bows and ruffles and what looked to be a hundred buttons that ran from top to bottom.
How the devil any woman could sleep in the ridiculous garment defied his imagination.
But far from repulsed by her appearance, Gabriel’s fingers twitched with the urge to slowly untangle her from the mounds of linen, slowly unveiling her voluptuous body.
What could be more enticing than unwrapping her as if she were a long-awaited gift?
He would lay her on the bed and explore every inch of her satin skin. First with his hands and then with his lips. And only when she was begging for release would he enter her and quench his aching need.
As if sensing his lecherous thoughts, Talia pressed a trembling hand to her throat. Her dark curls tumbled about her shoulders, and her emerald eyes were wide with shock.
Gabriel felt a momentary hesitation.
Hell, she looked so damned innocent.
“My lord,” she breathed.
Annoyed by the brief stab of conscience, Gabriel grimly reminded himself that this female had been willing to become a sacrificial virgin to the highest title. He had held up his side of the bargain, it was time that she do the same.
A sardonic smile curved his lips as he pushed from the door and glided forward.
“Ah, my obedient bride.”
Talia licked her lips. “What are you doing here?”
“Surely you cannot be surprised?” He circled around her stiff form, his hunter instinct fully aroused. “This is our wedding night.”
“Yes, but…” She trembled as his fingers brushed her cheek. “I did not expect you.”
“Obviously.” He stopped directly before her and lowered his hand to tug at the ribbon of her hideous robe. “Or did you choose this garment in the hopes it would send me fleeing in terror?”
“There is nothing wrong with my robe.” Her husky voice brushed over his skin like a caress. “It is perfectly respectable.”
Untangling the last of the ribbons, Gabriel turned his attention to the endless row of buttons.
“It at least answers one of my questions.”
The sound of her jagged breath was the only indication that she was aware he was disrobing her, and Gabriel couldn’t halt a renegade flare of admiration as she faced him with a fragile dignity. “What question?”
His heart missed a beat as his fingers brushed the soft mound of her breast.
“Whether or not you are a virgin,” he said, his voice oddly thick. “No female of experience would wear a garment that resembles a funeral shroud rather than a gown that enhances her natural…assets.”
Her eyes flashed. “If you have come here to insult me…”
“You know why I am here.”
Her brief display of temper faltered at his stark words. He felt her quiver beneath his hands, her pulse fluttering at the base of her throat.
“But you do not want me as your wife,” she said huskily.
He swallowed his sharp laugh. She truly was naïve if she thought this night had anything to do with wanting her as a wife.
A biting need raced through him, and with a sharp motion he grasped the fabric of her robe and yanked it apart. He heard her gasp of shock as the remaining buttons scattered in a shower of impatience.
“And yet, here you are in my home, the Countess of Ashcombe,” he rasped, his arousal heavy with desire as he parted the torn fabric to at last reveal the soft ivory curves.
Bloody hell. She was as perfect as he had imagined.
He tugged off the offensive robe, his hands lightly skimming over her narrow shoulders and down the delicate line of her collarbone. His blood sizzled as his gaze slid over the breasts that were full and tipped with nipples the color of ripe berries begging for his lips. Slowly, his attention lowered to her narrow waist that flared to feminine hips. Then, as his gaze reached the dark thatch of hair cradled between her legs, his fragile control snapped.
With a growl, he scooped her off her feet and headed across the room to the shadowed bedroom beyond.
“My lord,” she breathed, her eyes wide with a combination of fear and an excitement she could not entirely disguise. “Why are you doing this?”
Gabriel felt a flare of triumph in the knowledge he was not alone in this ruthless awareness. Lowering his head, he claimed her mouth in a possessive kiss.
“I have no choice,” he muttered against her lips.
She shivered beneath
