Chapter Nineteen #2
“Delia.” He kissed her cheek, pleased with the steadiness of his voice. “It’s kind of you to help me out.” The scent of rose and bergamot enveloped him, and the intense memory of their past love affair hit him like a blow to the stomach.
“No problem at all.” Her voice was low, barely audible, and her gaze fixed on the lapels of his suit. She touched his shoulders with fluttering hands then dropped them.
His limbs tingled, and his mind went blank.
He’d expected barely concealed pity, compassion maybe, but not jittery nervousness as if she was on her guard, afraid of her feelings.
The tiny flicker of hope he’d held onto against better judgment licked into a flame.
He took a step back to let her pass into the living room where he’d laid out the silk dress.
“Oh, yes, the dress,” she whispered.
“And the ring.” He took his mother’s wedding band from his pocket, then slipped it onto her finger. She was shivering so he opened his arms and enfolded her. “I promise, this is the last time.”
“I...er,” she broke off and freed herself from his embrace. “I’d better change.”
“Yes, of course. Shout if you need me.” Softly, he closed the living room door behind him and went into the kitchen.
He poured himself a glass of water and drank it in small, considered gulps, trying his best not to visualize her undressing in the room next to him.
The rustling of silk didn’t make it any easier.
He couldn’t be around her. Tonight was going to be the last time, like he’d said, because it would take years before he could meet her with equanimity.
“Gabriel,” she called. “I’m ready.”
~ * ~
D elia had never been to the Renwood Grand Hotel. The place was way too expensive for Sunday dinner or even for tea. She entered through the glass double doors and almost expected the receptionist to usher her out again, even though she was dressed head to toe in shiny, red-and-green silk.
Gabriel beside her, stunning in a black tux, appeared to be in his element.
He mightn’t have any money, but he sure looked the part.
She had to be careful with him tonight; he was kind and irresistibly handsome.
It would be easy to fall into old habits.
But that was all in the past now. He’d broken their agreement, and she would have to keep her distance.
She glanced at the massive chandelier dangling from the lofty ceiling and tried not to imagine it crashing down and burying the lot of them underneath its crystalline splendor.
“Lord and Lady Renwood. There you are.”
She turned in the direction of the voice and spotted Mrs. Brady-Greene on the arm of her husband. Delia smiled and gave her a little wave but cringed straight after in case she’d committed a faux pas. Do posh people wave at each other?
The Brady-Greenes seemed unconcerned. In one smooth motion, they cut through the crowd milling around the foyer and appeared in front of them.
“So glad you could make it,” Mr. Brady-Greene said, beaming. “Always good to see the local aristocracy supporting a charitable cause.”
Delia could have sworn Gabriel flinched at the word ‘aristocracy.’ She took his hand, and he pressed it in acknowledgment.
Her heart warmed with joy. Could their friendship be resurrected?
It was too precious to give up. Being with him was the most fun she’d ever had. But she would have to tread carefully.
The Brady-Greenes led the way to the function room. Round tables, covered in white damask, each surrounded by eight delicate wooden chairs, filled the available floor space. Delia forced the corners of her mouth upward and gripped Gabriel’s arm.
What was she doing feigning belonging to this set of people? She knew nobody and was positive she didn’t have anything in common with anyone. Gabriel gazed warmly at her and put his arm around her waist. His gesture signaled to those who couldn’t help staring that she was with him.
Curious glances followed them on their way to the table. Had he been seen in public with a partner since his break-up with his former fiancée? An internal tremor vibrated from Delia’s stomach outward.
She, the new woman on his arm, was an unknown quantity. More than one person probably wondered how she’d managed to snap up Renwood’s most eligible, if broke, bachelor without appearing on anyone’s radar.
During the sumptuous meal, Mr. and Mrs. Brady-Greene provided most of the chat. They were acquainted with the four other people at their table and were more than happy to let them know that they were on excellent terms with the new countess nobody else had even heard of.
This had to be the reason they’d been keen to invite Gabriel and his ‘wife.’ They wanted to show them off. She would have hated every minute if she hadn’t found Mrs. Brady-Greene curiously warm-hearted underneath the shiny veneer of upper-class wife.
Gabriel needed Delia to keep up the pretense, so she threw herself into the role and tried not to think too hard about possible consequences. Hopefully, they could launch a convincing divorce story before their lie became public.
Starters, main course, dessert, coffee—she’d enjoyed everything in the most lady-like way possible, and her scientist’s observational skills had stood her in good stead. But she was drained from concentrating on keeping their secret.
She rose and brushed her hands over her skirt. The bodice was digging into her abdomen after the meal. Damn these constricting dresses. She bent her head to Gabriel and whispered, “I’m heading to the loo. I need a little break.”
He smiled and put his hand on her bare arm. “See you in a few moments, my love.”
She studied his face, his cobalt blue eyes, his lightly parted lips, and did what any wife would do.
She slipped her fingers underneath his jaw, tipped up his chin, and kissed him—not solely for the benefit of their audience.
Gabriel, delicious as always . She broke away and went to the far corner of the room where she presumed the toilets to be.
The opulence of this hotel was nearly overpowering; even the bathroom had a marble floor, and the walls were also covered in marble the color of whipped cream. A huge bouquet of pink lilies adorned the ledge above the enameled wash basin and filled the air with its strong perfume.
Two glamorous women in their thirties hovered opposite the mirror, and Delia greeted them when she entered. They gave her a curious look but didn’t deign her worthy of a reply. How lovely.
Delia went into an empty stall and closed the mahogany door behind her.
She waited until the click-clack of high heels receded, then used the toilet.
Readjusting her dress, she took a moment to calm herself so she could once more face the sensory overload and general scrutiny awaiting her in the ballroom.
Together with Gabriel, she would have to sit through a charity auction, some sort of entertainment, then maybe take to the dance floor for a while before they could even think of going home.
She inhaled deeply, but regretted it right after.
The cloying scent of lilies was suffocating.
Ready to re-join Gabriel, she unlocked the door and came face to face with Mrs. Brady-Greene.
The older woman, by now a little tipsy, tilted her head and studied her. “Ah, darling, what’s wrong?”
Delia tried to control her features, but it was too late. She’d been found out. All was not well, and Mrs. Brady-Greene was too perceptive not to notice.
Unable to share the truth, Delia took another gulp of lily-scented air and improvised. “I’m not pregnant yet, and it’s depressing us a bit.”
Mrs. Brady-Greene wrapped a motherly arm around her shoulder. “Don’t worry, dear, it took me two years to get pregnant with our first. The other two pregnancies were quicker thereafter.”
Delia was surprised to find tears rolling down her cheeks. She’d had her heart set on Gabriel as the father of her child, and the end of that dream devastated her.
“There, there.” Mrs. Brady-Greene fumbled with a tissue. “Take this, dear. Mark my words, not long after you walk down the aisle at Renwood Hall chapel with your husband, you’ll find yourself there again for the christening of your first baby.”
Delia sniffed into the offered tissue, then dried her eyes. “Thank you, Mrs. Brady-Greene. You’re probably right. I just have to be patient.”
“Exactly.” The older woman gave Delia’s shoulder one last squeeze before vanishing into a free cubicle.
Delia washed her hands at the sink and splashed cold water on her face. Her eyes weren’t too bad; good thing she’d chosen waterproof mascara for the evening. Hopefully, nobody would suspect that the supposed Countess of Renwood had been crying in the lavatory.
~ * ~
T hey’d made it through without a hitch. Gabriel climbed into the driver’s seat of the Land Rover and exhaled in relief. One more hurdle taken, one more mortgage payment secured. He tried not to think of what other challenges lay ahead.
Delia sighed in the seat beside him. He glanced at her profile, light and luminous against the dark backdrop of the night.
How had she experienced the evening? Guilt clawed at him for having dragged her again into the drama of the Renwood Hall renovations.
He’d enjoyed being seen with her on his arm as his wife.
Dr. Cordelia Wright, smart, level-headed scientist, passionate lover, and stunning woman.
But not his, she’d made it very clear. “Thank you, Delia.”
She turned to him and smiled. “No problem.”
Her voice and the warmth of her expression sent a jolt through him. He tightened his grip on the steering wheel. Careful . He would have to be careful.
A heaviness pressed against his chest when he halted in front of the gatehouse. She’d change into her clothes, give him back his mother’s ring, then she’d be gone. The evening was coming to an end, and the spell was broken.
Renoir gave a sleepy, half-hearted bark when they entered but, recognizing Delia, ambled over with wagging tail to be petted before settling once more on his bed by the fireplace.
She glided into the living room, and Gabriel was about to retreat to the kitchen when he remembered the stubborn first inch of metal zip.
She would need his help to get out of the dress.
He entered the room a few paces behind her, and she wordlessly presented him with the jammed zip.
In the cool, still air, he caught a trace of her scent, and his world tilted on its axis. He gripped the tab of the zip, tugged, and the silk parted. The widening triangle of exposed skin transfixed him, as soft to the touch as it was smooth to look at.
Her shoulders lifted and dropped rapidly as her breath quickened, and a faint blush swept up her neck. He lost his concentration and pulled the zip lower than was necessary to unstick it, his self-restraint shattered by want.
“Yes,” she whispered on a breath when he looped his left arm around her and rested his hand on her stomach, unzipping her dress fully with his right.
Encouraged by her small moan, he slipped his hand between her and the silk, cupping her breast and lowering his head to kiss the curve of her neck. Silk fell in rich folds to the parquet floor, revealing her to him fully.
She turned and wrapped her arms around him, stopping his breath with a kiss. Desire ignited between them. Dazed and drunk on each other, they made their way to his bedroom.
This time there was no slow, deliberate joining; this was passionate, urgent lovemaking.
He hadn’t been with her for four weeks, and he wanted to touch and consume every inch of her.
She clung to him with such profound need, that once again, despite everything that had happened, they connected utterly.
Exhausted, they fell asleep, his body curled around hers.