Page 71 of Duke in Darkness

“That’s when the French decided…to take me prisoner…rather than kill me. You’ve seen my foot. My face. They didn’t…show mercy.”

Gabriel pressed a fist to his mouth as nausea roiled in his gut, and he turned onto his side, unable to bear Lilian’s horrified, tearful gaze. Yet even as hot tears splashed from her cheeks onto his hair, she didn’t stop her rhythmic stroking. And that strength, that anchor to the present day, began to ease the raging storm inside his mind. For this touch didn’t harm or hurt, but offered comfort. Greedy for more, he took her other hand and held it tightly in his until the dark memories receded, fought back by a light in the form of his wife’s safe, affectionate touch.

A kind of peace, at last.

CHAPTER 17

Before she’d even opened her eyes, Lilian knew something was different.

Her bed felt firmer, and the scent of Sandalwood lingered. The temperature was almost too warm, and strangest of all, a weight rested on her hip.

Cautiously, she eased open one eyelid, and her breath escaped in a rush at the confirmation she wasn’t in her own bedchamber, but Gabriel’s. In his bed. With his huge body pressed against her back, his head tucked into the curve of her neck, and his hand clamped on her hip. He still wore his shirt and trousers, and she had her chemise and nightgown on, but that didn’t change the fact that they had spent the night together. In the same bed!

With awareness, came remembrance. Dining together like a picnic on the cushions. His head in her lap, her stroking his hair as he told her the awful truth about the battle at Bayonne. And finally, as her eyes grew too heavy to keep open, Gabriel picking her up and carrying her not to her own bedchamber, but to his bed. From the pale light peeking in through a few gaps in the heavy curtains, it couldn’t yet be dawn, so this temporary sanctuary wouldn’t be disturbed for a little while yet. Much as she reveled in their bedsport and the all the deliciously wicked things he made her say and do, she wanted more of this affectionate closeness, the intimacy of being together and touching fully clothed, too.

She wanted a hug, blast it.

Hardly daring to breathe, not wanting to wake Gabriel from his much-needed slumber, Lilian reached down to tug his hand from her hip an inch closer to her belly. After waiting a minute to ensure he slept on, she then tugged his hand a further inch around. Then another.

“Do you wish to be held, Your Grace?”

Lilian froze at the amused words in her ear. “I thought you were asleep!”

“No. Too busy assessing your stealthy maneuver. While somewhat effective, rather inefficient…to quickly achieve your objective. If it was to be held, of course.”

A giggle escaped at her own foolishness. Stealthy, indeed, with an ex-soldier husband. “Yes, I would like to be held. Tightly. Until the sun rises.”

Gabriel’s hand slid over her belly and came to rest on the bed beside her breast, tucking her against him with one brawny arm. “Better?”

“Much better,” she said, with a contented sigh, quite happy to stay like this forever. Or at least until the pressing needs of food and chamber pot rudely interrupted. “Did you sleep well?”

“Surprisingly well. I’m still quite tired, though.”

At the odd note in his tone, Lilian slowly turned around to face him, careful not to touch anywhere other than his arm. “Gabriel?”

He glanced away. “Do you mind if we just lie here? Not anything else?”

“Look at me, please,” she said softly.

Reluctantly, he met her gaze again, and stiffened a little, as though bracing himself. “Yes?”

“I love our marital relations. Or should I say, when a certain wicked colonel binds my wrists to the bedpost and pleasures me, or sits me in front of the looking glass, or bends me over my dressing table,” she continued with a grin, hoping she said this the right way. “But what is also lovely: holding hands. Hair stroking. Lying in bed all warm and cozy and talking. I think we are both aware of the urgent requirement for an heir, but I hope the act will always be done out of desire, not duty.”

Gabriel exhaled slowly, then he gently rolled her over, settled himself against her back, and tucked her against him again. “Thank you. Yesterday it felt like I had nothing left. But just resting here…it is very soothing. I like it.”

“I like it, too,” Lilian replied, lacing her fingers with his.

“Ah, hell.”

“What?”

“Your grandmother arranged this marriage. That means I have something…to be grateful to her for,” Gabriel replied, sounding extremely disgruntled.

Lilian burst out laughing. “Don’t worry, I doubt very much there will be anything else. She’ll be a thorn in our sides for all eternity, offering marital advice and lectures and disapproval of everything we do. My life changed so much when she arrived after Mama died…”

“How old were you?”

“Twelve. Ten years ago,” she whispered, hesitating as her mind was suddenly filled with memories of her mother. Games in the nursery. Summer picnics. Dancing lessons where Mama would drag Father from his library to demonstrate, and they would twirl and twirl even without music, and she would kiss him, and Father’s ears would go bright red. The jaunts to the country, and the special times when Mama said ‘just Lilian’ and they would venture out to the gardens or the orchard and trudge around getting their hands and hems muddy as they examined the trees and plants. “Father shut himself away when Mama passed. He was inconsolable. So Grandmother came to live with us, and never left. She supervised everything, from our clothing, to our education, to our leisure activities. She lectured and caned us often. That was a shock. Mama didn’t believe in physical punishment. All the things I had so enjoyed, like gardening and plants, were now forbidden. Any rules or instructions Mama had given, were overturned. It seemed like Grandmother wanted to pretend our mother had never existed. Even talking about her resulted in us children getting a caning…oh dear, I’m babbling.”