Chapter Fourteen
G abriel knelt between soft folds of velvet, lavishly embroidered silk, and finely woven brocade, sorting and packaging the dress collection for the auction house. Dust motes danced in the air, lit by the warm rays of evening sunshine. He coughed and got up to throw the window open.
Sotheby’s North of England office had been disappointed to hear that the Renwood dress collection wouldn’t include any of the wedding dresses and had made it clear it would fetch a much lower price as a result.
But Delia’s suggestion to hold these back and display them in a separate room had been too good to ignore. They’d form the centerpiece of the exclusive wedding fairs he hoped to host once the renovation of Renwood Hall was complete.
He smiled, remembering her committed performance as the ‘new’ Lady Renwood. He’d been nervous, terrified they’d mess it up, but she had sailed through the meeting with the Brady-Greenes like a pro and had inspired him to do the same.
Sooner rather than later, he’d have to fabricate some story of a divorce before the bank manager commented on Delia’s continued absence. But that would have to wait. The loan had not yet been approved.
Mr. Brady-Greene had warned Gabriel this might take a while, since it posed a certain risk for the bank.
The credit department wanted to wait until the roof repair was completed and some more money had been made by the sale of the remaining valuables.
He hadn’t mentioned the two Kauffmann paintings.
Good thing the banker had no idea of their value.
Gabriel had pointed out that a complete set of ancestor portraits was essential to the attractiveness of the manor house as a wedding venue, and Mr. Brady-Greene had agreed. Edwin and Emmy were safe, for now.
A soft knock on the door dragged Gabriel out of his reverie.
He raised his head. Delia stood in the doorframe, gilded by sunlight.
Stunned into breathlessness, he let his gaze rove over her.
The forest green hoody she wore deepened the color of her eyes, and her jeans hugged her hips tightly. He gave himself a mental shake.
“Delia. Lovely to see you, I didn’t expect...” She entered with a whiff of her perfume he’d come to recognize: rose and bergamot. Or was it her shampoo?
“Liam let me in. He was heading out with Renoir and told me I’d find you in here, buried among ancestor dresses.”
He laughed and got to his feet. “What a nice surprise. I could do with a break.”
“Surprise? Have you forgotten?” She pursed her lips and raised both eyebrows.
He stared at her and racked his brains until the memory of their arrangement came back to him. Of course, she was ovulating. She’d told him last night and was now there to collect his sperm.
Heat crept into his face, and he raked a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry, Delia. This is the second time I forgot one of our appointments. You must think me very unreliable.”
“No, you have a lot going on.” Her features relaxed into warmth, and the knot in his stomach loosened.
“Well.” He glanced at her from beneath his eyelashes, his face still heated by an internal furnace. “I...need a few minutes. I haven’t...”
She closed her eyes for a moment, brushed a hand over her forehead and asked, “Gabriel, why don’t we have sex?”
The air rushed from his lungs, and he blinked at her until his brain caught up and parsed the meaning of her words.
He’d thought about it, plenty of times. But she’d always insisted relationships weren’t for her, and sleeping with someone without any emotional connection had never been his modus operandi.
Until now, it seemed, because he couldn’t turn her down.
That kind of fortitude was beyond him where she was concerned.
She blushed. “I mean, only if you wanted to...”
He covered the distance between them in two strides, gripped her hips and pulled her to him. His body was lit by a shower of sparks, and his breath became shallow. “Will we make it to the gatehouse?”
She shook her head on a shaky exhale. He savored her nearness and the flutter of excitement. This was a mutual fire, and he was ready to burn. He cupped her face and kissed her. Those soft, warm lips returned the pressure of his, and he angled his head to deepen his exploration.
Still connected by a passionate kiss, she dragged him backward to the sofa since the bed was covered in ancient dresses.
He regarded the woman before him. Not once had he dared to hope she’d give up her careful attitude of platonic friendship toward him. He’d observed her body for hours, meticulously transferring her shape onto canvas. Concentration on the task had saved him then; he was defenseless now.
She lifted her T-shirt over her head and discarded it.
Her every movement mesmerized him, and he was half-aware that he might be sailing into dangerous waters.
His rapid heartbeat pounded through him, and his breath hitched.
Delia, my God . She reached behind her back to open the bra, and his gaze tracked her every movement.
He brought his face to hers and placed a gentle kiss on her jaw, moving his lips down her neck along the path of her racing pulse.
The dip between her collarbones invited another kiss.
He was taking it slow, savoring her. For all he knew, this might well be the only time she’d let her guard down and allow sensuality to take over.
Although how he was ever to see her and not want her was a mystery.
She let down her hair, freeing the scent of rose and bergamot from its silky strands as it fell loose over her shoulders.
Tracking the slope of her shoulder with one finger he inhaled deeply to savor her perfume.
He touched her velvety skin, explored each curve of her form; every one of her breathy moans an encouragement to fall further and deeper. She rid herself of her remaining clothes, revealing all of her beauty, and he followed her lead.
Then she looked at him, her green eyes darkened by dilated pupils. “Kiss me again.”
He brushed his lips over hers in a movement that quickly became hunger, searching for her tongue with his and finding an equal measure of want. She softened in his embrace.
Rejoicing in her gasps, he stroked her breasts then traveled slowly up the inside of her thigh to where she needed him, carefully establishing an acquaintance with her body. Growing ever more confident, he caressed her until she arched her back and cried out in pleasure.
There was no Renwood Hall, no crushing debt, no death, only the exhilaration of being with her. His blood caught fire as she mapped every plane of his body. Her rapid breathing, her reddened cheeks, and the tilt of her pelvis, implored all his senses to do what she asked of him.
So he did.
~ * ~
D elia examined the high, corniced ceiling and smiled. How arrogant she had been, to fear Gabriel would fall for her if they slept together. He was an adult and able to handle a bit of casual procreative sex.
Sated and content, she snuggled into him, clinging to his naked body on the narrow sofa. He rested his hand on her hip, securing her.
She walked her fingers down the arm that held her. “This was much more fun than insemination via plastic syringe.”
“I should hope so.” He turned slightly, and his breath bushed over her hair. “You know, instead of messing around with jars and syringes, we could try to get you pregnant the conventional way.”
She pressed her skin to his. “You’ve certainly made a convincing case for that approach just now. But let’s take care not to get sentimental. Once I’m pregnant, we’ll revert to a strictly platonic friendship.” Always a good idea to set the ground rules early on, right?
There was amusement in his voice. “Yes, but in the meantime, we can have some fun.”
She agreed. After two months of squirting his sperm up her vagina with a syringe she was more than ready to take this lovely man to bed and try to get pregnant the time-honored way.
She would, of course, set him free for whatever romantic entanglements he intended to pursue with another woman, but until then, having sex would do no harm.
“Are you happy to do this each month for the days around my ovulation?”
“Do we have to be so methodical about it?” His hand moved along her side. “I read somewhere that couples are more likely to conceive if they are less focused on the outcome.”
She patted his bare chest. “You just fancy a regular shag.”
“Yes, there’s that,” he replied.
Low laughter rolled at the back of her throat.
“You greedy man.” She got off the sofa and bent to retrieve her underwear.
“In that case, why don’t you come to my flat tomorrow night at eight?
I have a nice, cozy double bed,” she said with a nod toward the narrow piece of furniture he still occupied.
He leaned back on his elbows and watched her dress. “I have a bed too, you know, in the gatehouse.”
“Mm, you can show it to me some time.” She put on her bra and then her T-shirt. “But I bet I have the better mattress.”
“That remains to be seen. Also, the gatehouse is detached, surrounded only by parkland.”
He still made no move to get dressed. My God, but he’s gorgeous . She broke eye-contact and pulled up her jeans. “Privacy, excellent. We won’t have to keep the noise down.”
His gaze traced a path down her body, and flames licked through her. “My thoughts exactly.”
~ * ~
“W hat are you so smiley for?” Liam asked, stepping forward to get a closer look at Gabriel as he crossed the vestibule of Renwood Hall. “Found a hoard of gold in the garden underneath the tool shed?”
Gabriel laughed. “No such thing, unfortunately. I’m just in a good mood.”
“Glad to hear it. With all the renovation work that’s going on, it’s great you’re keeping your spirits up.” The older man patted his shoulder.