Chapter Fourteen #2
Gabriel dipped his chin and chose to keep the exact reason for his exuberance to himself.
“Have you seen Renoir? I wanted to take him for a run around the park after having been cooped up inside all morning.” He’d been working on client accounts and every so often had found himself staring into the distance, conjuring images of Delia naked in his arms. His concentration was shot.
He needed fresh air. In seven hours, he would be seeing her again.
There were fun times ahead if she stuck to their new agreement to forget about plastic jars and syringes.
Here’s to hoping she doesn’t get pregnant too soon. He bit back a grin.
“I last saw the dog in the kitchen with Mary,” Liam replied.
As if on cue, the Irish Wolfhound ambled down the hallway and made straight for Gabriel.
“There you are.” Gabriel crouched to pet him. “Let’s head out. See you later, Liam.”
In the park, Gabriel threw a stick for his dog and watched the animal’s graceful movements as he raced after it.
His mind, of course, was elsewhere. What would he bring with him?
He couldn’t turn up at Delia’s flat empty-handed.
Flowers? They could be construed as a romantic gift—best not to risk it.
She was a smart academic, maybe the library contained some curious old science book she might like.
Thrilled with his idea, he completed three laps of the park with Renoir before heading to Renwood Hall’s library.
Filled from parquet floor to stuccoed ceiling with wooden bookshelves, the room never failed to enchant him.
It had been his parents’ favorite haunt.
They’d sat here together, almost every day, drinking tea and reading.
Gabriel scanned the shelves. There were sizeable gaps in the rows of leather-bound volumes.
Every book of value had been sold, but maybe the shelves would yield some curiosity of interest to Delia.
He ran his fingers along the spines of the small science section.
There, this one sounded good: ‘A New System of Chemical Philosophy-Volume I’ by John Dalton.
He carefully pulled out the hardback and leafed through it.
A first edition from 1808 and in reasonably good condition with illustrative plates.
It wasn’t worth much because the two other volumes were missing, but Delia might still like it.
Humming a jaunty tune, he closed the book and took it upstairs to his office.
~ * ~
D elia brushed a hand over the smooth counterpane of her bed. Everything was perfect. The bed linen pristine, all rooms aired, all dishes washed and put away, the whole flat hoovered and cleaned. She paced the room, vibrating with anticipation.
At five past eight, she buzzed Gabriel in with trembling hands but grew calm at the sound of him bounding up the stairs. Impatient man.
A tingling joy flushed through her. They were going to have a great time and maybe even get her pregnant. He crossed the threshold and handed her what looked like a gift-wrapped book. “I brought you something.”
She glanced at the package, then placed it on the small table beside the coat rack. “Oh, thank you. Do you mind if I look at it later?”
“Not at all,” he said and pulled her into a tight embrace.
“Welcome to my humble abode.” With her cheek pressed against his chest, she inhaled his familiar scent. She tilted her head back, and their gazes locked.
“Delighted to be here.” His smile stole her breath, and her pulse accelerated.
Funny how quickly things had changed. A week ago, she would’ve sworn she’d never try to lay a hand on him. Tonight, she could hardly wait to have him in her bed.
Still enveloped in his arms and pressed close to his long, lean body, she touched her lips to his, signaling to him that small talk wasn’t required. He took her cue and deepened their kiss, opening her mouth with his lips, searching, exploring.
Their first encounter had been spontaneous, hurried along by her astonishment at her audacity. Today, she would be more deliberate and savor him. Because he was attractive, and she’d already had a taste of what he was capable of.
He traced a line from her shoulder to the small of her back.
“Go on,” she whispered, breaking their kiss.
He cradled her head with his left hand, bringing her lips back to his while he slid his other hand lower. Fire spread through her center, and kissing was no longer enough.
She broke free from his arms and took him by the hand.
“Come,” she said.
She stood beside her bed when this gorgeous man entered the room. All thought of anything other than wanting him was brushed from her mind. She put her arms around his neck and gazed into his eyes, losing herself in their depths.
“Gabriel,” she whispered.
He kissed her again, deeply, and deliberately, smoothing his hands over her body.
She lifted her leg and pressed herself against him, loving his responding desire. She clawed at his body, wanting him so desperately that she undressed him with little finesse but undeniable ardor.
“My God, you’re beautiful.” She covered his chest with kisses, tasting a hint of salt on his skin.
“So are you,” he panted, apparently winded by the suddenness with which she had pushed him onto the bed.
“Let me look at you,” she said.
His eyes had darkened, and his breath came in short, shallow gusts.
Her own want was mirrored in the depth of his wide pupils, and the air around them vibrated with delicious tension.
This was going to be fun. She hovered over him, opening her blouse, button by button, until the gap revealed the fanciest bra she possessed.
He gasped when she removed it, and the sound of his surrender made her chuckle.
Her skirt soon joined her blouse on the floor, as did the tights and the rest of her underwear.
All the while he didn’t say a word, but the expression in his eyes was eloquent enough.
A warm joy welled up inside her as she lay beside him, stroking his arms and chest, kissing the goosebumps on his skin. Was she torturing him? Probably, but he took it well. She ran her hands over his body, parting his legs, and stroking the inside of his thighs.
“Delia.” His voice was husky, but she no longer laughed at his evident desire. They were lost to each other in equal measure, and the awareness of it slowly trickled through her.
She climbed on top of him and playfully bit the curve where his neck met his shoulder. He grabbed her, and she delighted in his urgent touch.
“Yes, Gabriel.”
He flipped her over and caressed her breasts, lowered his head and a fork of lighting split her body when he sucked one nipple, then the other.
“Yes,” she moaned, arching up to him, sweat gathering on her skin.
He moved farther downward, his tongue shaping exquisite circles until the tidal wave broke and crashed over her. She took a moment to catch her breath before pulling him up.
“Now,” she commanded.
He braced his arms on either side of her head and regarded her. She stretched out beneath him, hungry, impatient, and eager to feel his body on hers. He entered her gently as she widened to admit him.
Filled and held, she relaxed underneath him, while he slowly rocked them into a perfect embrace, only gathering pace when she bent her knees and shifted beneath him to let him in deeper. He searched for her eyes.
She met his gaze, but it was hard for her, to allow a closeness that threatened to transcend the physical. Impossible to endure. She shut her eyes and dropped her head back, offering her throat to be kissed.
His breath came in ragged bursts, and she clung to him as a shiver of release went through him.
He lay with her in his arms for a while longer then got up and dressed, and she was pleased that he didn’t presume he could stay the night.
After he’d gone, she went back to bed and snuggled into her duvet, calm and contented like a cat.
With boundaries firmly in place and the end date fixed, she could fully enjoy the gift of intimacy with this beautiful man.
~ * ~
T he air was bracing , and the clouds hung low in the sky, but so far, the rain held off. Professor John Winter adjusted the glove on his right hand. He selected the driver from his golf bag, ready to tee off in full confidence that he’d get in a round of golf before the weather broke.
The golf ball on the tee, he got into position, concentrated, swung, and grunted in satisfaction when the tiny white orb flew in a wide arc down the fairway.
“Nice shot, John.”
Professor Winter spun at the sound of the familiar voice. “Alistair, old sport, it’s been a while.”
“It has been, it has been.” Mr. Brady-Greene shook Johns’s hand. “I suppose work is busy for us both.”
“Let’s do this round together and catch up.” John replaced the driver and shouldered his golf bag, ready to watch the banker tee off.
Alistair’s shot was quite respectable, and together they ambled down the fairway while inquiring after each other’s families and general health. But conversation always turned to more important things like work.
“I have recently embarked on an exciting project, and I have to tell you, it’s progressing quite nicely. It’s called ‘The Renwood Longevity Project’ and I’m setting out to discover—”
“Ha. I know about that.” Alistair beamed at him. “Lady Renwood is your researcher, and that’s how she met her husband.”
“Lady Renwood... Who...?” John had momentarily lost all fluency in the English language.
“Does Dr. Cordelia Wright not work with you at the university?”
“Yes, of course, she’s my lead researcher, and she has been invaluable—” A few pennies dropped, and he stared at the other man. “They are married? ”
“Oh, yes, very much so. I’m surprised you didn’t know.” Alistair swung his iron back and forth, all innocence and light.
John stared at his golfing companion and struggled to hide any outward sign of his deep disappointment. Cordelia hadn’t invited him to or even apprised him of her wedding that he, more or less, had brought about.
The banker continued cheerfully, “They did say they only had a small and quiet ceremony at the registry office. The actual church wedding will happen at a later stage, once the private chapel at Renwood Hall has been restored. Florence and I are invited.”
“Oh, I see.” Still time for her to likewise issue him and his wife with an invitation. He summoned a smile. “So, so, Dr. Cordelia is now the Countess of Renwood.”
“They make such a beautiful pair, don’t you think? Florence is entirely besotted with them and can’t wait for the wedding,” Alistair gloated.
“As a matter of fact, I’ve always said Cordelia would make an excellent wife for the young earl.” John warmed to the subject, since he had something to add. “Have you seen the portrait gallery at the Hall? She fits right in with the other redheads.”
“Yes, her portrait is stunning, and he even painted it himself.” The banker’s expression was smug.
John stopped and leaned on his golf club. “He’s already... Her portrait is...?”
Again Alistair Brady-Greene made little effort to conceal his pride regarding his superior knowledge of the Renwood household, and if he meant to irk John, he sure was succeeding. “Yes, yes, you can see the love and care that went into it. You must tell Lady Renwood to show it to you sometime.”
John’s eyebrows drew together, and he compressed his lips. He would have to have a serious word with Cordelia. To keep such momentous news from him was unforgivable.
Selecting a putter from his golf bag, he approached the first hole. At least in the game of golf, he stood a good chance of beating Brady-Greene.