CHAPTER TWELVE A LESSON IN TRUST #4
He entered deeper. The angle drew a soft moan from Eleanor.
Gabriel’s arm tightened around her, holding her against him as he seated himself fully.
For several breaths, they remained still.
The position was intimate physically and distant emotionally.
Gabriel could kiss her shoulder, touch her breasts and feel every movement of her body, but he could not see her face.
He began slowly. Eleanor moved with him.
Her hand covered his where it rested upon her stomach, guiding it lower until his fingers reached the sensitive place between her thighs.
Gabriel touched her in time with each thrust.
Pleasure built rapidly. Eleanor’s breathing roughened. Yet something felt wrong. Not in her body. In the space between them. Gabriel kissed the back of her neck.
“Eleanor.”
She turned her face slightly.
“I cannot see you.”
Her body stilled around him. The admission exposed more than desire.
He had chosen countless positions with women based upon pleasure, access or novelty.
He had never required a face. Faces invited connection, and connection encouraged memory.
Tonight, the absence felt unbearable. Eleanor withdrew from him and rolled onto her back.
Gabriel moved above her. She touched his cheek.
“Better?”
“Yes.”
He re-entered her. Their eyes met. The change made the act entirely different.
Gabriel moved slowly at first, supporting his weight upon one arm while the other hand held her hip.
Eleanor wrapped her legs around him, drawing him deeper.
He watched every response. She watched his.
No performance survived the contact. Eleanor lifted her hips. Gabriel groaned.
“Again.”
She repeated it. He thrust more firmly. Pleasure tightened around them. Gabriel kissed her mouth, her jaw and the soft place beneath her ear. Eleanor’s hands moved over his back, touching scars without flinching.
“Stay,” she whispered.
“I am here.”
“After.”
The word entered him as promise and challenge. Gabriel looked into her eyes.
“I will.”
He moved faster. Eleanor’s body welcomed each stroke, wet and tight around him.
Her breasts pressed against his chest, nipples hard from their earlier play.
Gabriel lowered his mouth to one while continuing to thrust. She cried out.
His hand moved between them. He circled her with his thumb.
Eleanor’s legs tightened around his waist.
“More pressure.”
Gabriel obeyed. Her gaze never left his. The pleasure became almost too intense to endure. Gabriel felt his release approaching, but he slowed, unwilling to finish before she did. Eleanor understood.
“Do not retreat now.”
“I am trying not to.”
“Let me feel you.”
The words broke the last of his restraint.
Gabriel thrust deeply. Eleanor’s body tightened around him.
Her climax began with a shudder, then overtook her.
She cried his name, eyes open and fixed upon his as pleasure pulsed around him.
Gabriel followed. He drove into her once more and reached release with a rough sound, every muscle tightening above her.
For several seconds, neither moved. Their breathing filled the room.
Gabriel lowered himself carefully, keeping enough weight upon his arms not to crush her.
Eleanor touched his face. He kissed her palm.
Then he withdrew, disposed of the sheath and returned with a warm cloth.
They cleaned one another without ceremony, passing the cloth between them while laughter occasionally interrupted the task.
When they lay down again, Eleanor turned onto her side.
Gabriel expected the familiar fear. It came.
So did the impulse to rise, dress and create distance before tenderness demanded more courage than passion had. He stayed. Eleanor watched him.
“You are thinking about leaving.”
“Yes.”
“Will you?”
“No.”
Her expression softened. Gabriel reached for her. She came into his arms without hesitation. He held her against his chest, feeling the steady beat of her heart beneath his hand.
“I cannot promise I will never be afraid,” he said.
“I did not ask you to.”
“I cannot promise my first instinct will always be the correct one.”
“That would be an alarming promise from any man.”
His mouth curved. Eleanor touched the corner of it. Gabriel took her hand and kissed her fingers.
“I will not disappear before you have the opportunity to choose whether I should stay.”
She looked at him for a long time. Then she nodded.
“I accept.”
No declaration followed. The promise was smaller than love and perhaps more difficult to keep. Gabriel held her until the fire settled. For once, remaining did not feel like imprisonment. It felt like choice. A knock sounded below. Hastings’s footsteps moved quickly through the study.
“My lord?”
Gabriel closed his eyes.
“Come.”
The butler entered carrying a sealed note. His usual composure had fractured.
“A messenger from Dr. Finch.”
Eleanor sat upright, drawing the sheet around herself.
Gabriel took the note and broke the seal.
The message was short. Dr. Edmund Finch had issued a public statement to the academic societies and several newspapers.
His daughter, he claimed, had suffered a mental collapse after prolonged strain and had begun making irrational accusations concerning authorship.
For her health, she was to be removed from public life and placed under medical care.
His Royal Society address would proceed the following evening.
Gabriel handed Eleanor the note. She read it once. Then again. Her face became very still. Outside, somewhere beyond the dark windows, printing presses were already preparing to publish the lie.