"Wild one," Nathaniel murmured finally, his breath warm on her neck. "That was indecently fast. I like to take my time, not tumble headlong into ecstasy."
"We both had a powerful thirst to slake," Gabrielle replied with a somewhat complacent smile. "Next time we can take our time."
Nathaniel turned his head toward the window. The moon swung in the black sky and the stars were as bright as ever. Dawn was an eternity away, an eternity in which to indulge temptation.
"Then perhaps we should start next time now," he murmured, hitching himself on an elbow, feasting his eyes on her body, taking in every inch now that lust's driving power was curbed.
Her skin was milk-white and smooth, stretched taut over her rib cage, curving into the concave hollow of her belly. He lowered his head to dip his tongue into the delicate thimble of her navel, his fingers twisting in the silky dark red fleece at the apex of her thighs.
Gabrielle stretched luxuriously beneath the caressing hand that with a sure and easy touch drew her up from the torpid depths of satiation, rekindling the ashes of arousal.
"No, lie still," he commanded when she attempted to reciprocate his play. "I want to explore you, to find out what pleases you. I want your body to speak to me."
"It's very eloquent at the moment," she whispered, arching catlike beneath his touch, more than willing to offer herself to such skilled and knowing handling, postponing her own game of intimate discovery.
Nathaniel played with her, reveling in the supreme responsiveness that enabled him to bring her again and again to the brink of joyous extinction. Their voices mingled in murmured delight and sometimes surprise as the night wore on and the erotic voyage took unexpected turns.
Gabrielle felt that every inch of her skin had been charted, every crevice of her body become known to the man who loved with such exquisite sensitivity. He knew the lobes of her ears, the bones of her ankles, the two dimpled indentations in the small of her back, the spaces between her toes, each and every fingernail. Finally he yielded his own body and she learned him with the same thoroughness, recognizing dimly that such a knowledge forged links between two people that could not easily be broken.
The final fusion was a dreamlike joining of two separate entities who no longer acknowledged their individuality. They rose and fell together in slow cadences and his skin was hers as hers was his, and his flesh pressed against her womb, an inextricable part of her essence.
They lay together, recovering their separateness, as the stars began to fade and, with the coming of dawn, Nathaniel dragged himself free from the woods of enchantment. It was time to return to the real world of dark dangers and mired secrets. Time, too, to don the mantle of fatherhood for a while, however uncomfortable a garment it was.
He'd not made love since Helen's pregnancy had so enervated her that she could barely raise her head from the chaise longue-he wouldn't dignify subsequent hasty satisfactions of bodily need with the term lovemaking-and not once tonight had he thought of Helen. The realization struck like a sliver of ice through his warm lethargy, his peaceful contemplation of the rich, sensuous interlude he'd shared with the long, sinuous, creamy form lying beside him.
How could he not have thought of the woman who would be living now if he hadn't yielded with such incontinence to his body's urgencies? Helen had miscarried three times before she carried Jake to full term and gave her life for the child's. And yet he hadn't thought to be careful. He'd expected her to be a wife to him and the mother of his children, and she hadn't said otherwise. But then, Helen was not a woman to say a man nay-to renege on what she believed were her obligations. Knowing that, he should have thought, should have understood, should have made the decision for both of them. Instead…
The woman beside him shifted on the mattress, turning her head to look at him. Dark red ringlets pooled on the white lawn pillow, a rich ruddy stain, like Helen's blood flowing unstoppably from her body until she was drained, lifeless, bloodless.
"Something's the matter," Gabrielle said directly, sitting up. "What is it, Nathaniel?"
It wasn't her fault. She'd offered temptation, but he had chosen to yield to it. He hung on to the thought grimly until the fierce need to strike out at her, to punish her for his own self-indulgence was blunted enough for him to speak if not warmly at least without overt hostility.
"The night is done," he said, swinging his legs over the side of the bed, stretching and yawning. "It's time you returned to your own bed before the household begins moving around."
Gabrielle regarded him for a moment through narrowed eyes. Whatever was troubling him ran deep. She'd shared enough of the man's spirit tonight to recognize that. But even such sharing didn't permit prying, and besides, she had no wish to pry. She had one object and only one where Nathaniel Praed was concerned. If an explosion of bodily joy came along as an extra, then all well and good. But the closeness had to stop there. There could be nothing more.
"You're right," she assented. "It's getting light. Perhaps I'd better leave by the window to be on the safe side."
"What safe side?" he scoffed. "You'll leave by that window over my dead body."
Gabrielle put her head on one side in the engaging and frequently infuriating way she had. "Now, that seems a little extreme, sir. An unnecessary sacrifice, surely."
His lips twitched. "Witch! Put your clothes on and leave by the door." He picked up her clothes. "Catch."
The garments flew toward her: shirt, britches, stockings, and boots. Gabrielle snatched them from the air with an instinctive accuracy, and Nathaniel enjoyed the supple play of her body as she stretched and bent in reactive rhythm. And then he remembered Helen again. He wanted to look away as Gabrielle pulled on her britches, buttoned her shirt, but he couldn't. His eyes were fixed wide as if someone had wedged sticks beneath his eyelids.
But to his relief, Gabrielle showed no signs of lingering once she was dressed. She showed none of the softness of the night either, not even offering a farewell kiss before going to the door.
"Sleep well, Lord Praed. I promise I won't disturb you at the breakfast table this morning."
Her laugh had the old mockery in it as she closed the door behind her.
With a speed akin to desperation, Nathaniel began to dress, throwing his few belongings into a portmanteau before hurrying down the stairs and outside to his waiting postchaise.
Gabrielle encountered a maidservant struggling with a scuttle of coal as she turned into the corridor to her own bedchamber. She offered a cheerful good morning, but the girl, tongue-tied, stared wide-eyed at the dawn apparition in britches and shirt.
Shrugging, Gabrielle went on her way. The girl was presumably a very lowly member of the household staff and wouldn't know the names of the Vanbrughs' guests even if she was inclined to gossip. Not that it mattered one way or the other. No servant would be able to guess in whose bed the Comtesse de Beaucaire had passed the night.
She gained her own room without further incident. The neatly turned down bed awaited her, mute evidence of where she had not spent the night. A sheet of paper on the plumped virgin pillow caught her attention immediately. She picked it up. Georgie's spidery writing weaved untidily over the paper:
Gabby, where are you? Or can I guess? Perhaps I won't try. Just to alert you: Simon says Lord Praed has ordered his carriage for dawn. Apparently he's decided his business here is over and he won't even stay for breakfast! He's such a rude man, Gabby, I can't see what you see in him. But then, there's no accounting for taste, is there? I don't know if you want to know his plans, but just in case… Sleep well!!
Gabrielle scrunched the paper in her fist, staring out of the window at the rapidly brightening day. He'd said nothing about leaving. Was he still going? After such a night, could he simply get up and leave without a word of explanation or even farewell as if those glorious hours had never happened?