Wicked Deeds on a Winter Night

Shadows danced in his eyes. “It was trifling,” he reassured her.

She placed the letters on the small table by her bedside cupboard, before returning to stand before him, and took his hand between hers. “Please, do not leave me in a state of ignorance. Tell me what happened.”

He contemplated her for several moments, then he said, “I was shot in the side at Balaclava, but I’ve recovered.”

Fear rushed through her heart, and a lump grew in her throat. “How long were you abed?”

A grimace crossed his features to disappear quickly. “Primrose it does not—”

“Please, how long, Gabriel?”

They stared at each other in the pulsing silence. “ Six weeks,” he admitted gruffly.

“Surely you cannot be fully recovered!”

“I am well.”

She lifted trembling fingers to her lips, her eyes smarting with tears. “I feel wretched that I did not know you were so grievously wounded.”

He dipped slightly and pressed a kiss to her nose. “What matters now is that I am well, and it was thoughts of you…of our future together that became my reason to recover. I have something for you.” He stepped away and went over to the small table and collected the wooden box and handed it to her.

With a smile, she took the box and flipped open the small silver latch. There were several smaller packages, about eight in total, all carefully wrapped in fine yellow paper. Primrose lowered herself to the bed and pulled the first one open. It was a sweet. Round and yellow with a dusting of whites all over it. She had a notorious sweet tooth, and even the village confectionary shopkeeper teased her unmercifully. She had only mentioned once, quite fleetingly, how her father would always bring her sweets from London whenever he visited and returned to their home in Derbyshire. And Gabriel had remembered.

She slowly unwrapped another package. Chocolate. Unable to help the need she broke off a piece and popped it into her mouth and chewed. It broke apart in her mouth, the sweet, yet slightly bitter flavor rich and decadent.

Thrill rose sharply in her bosom, and her anticipation welled.

She unwrapped another paper and withdrew another small ball coated in frothy white. Her eyes fluttered close in pleasure at the first taste. It crunched under her teeth and a delightful sweet burst on her tongue.

“That is spiced almond nut, coated in caramel and dipped in sugar from Vienna.”

He lowered himself to his knees, so they were at the same height, leaned in and licked the corner of her mouth. Her heart began to clamor, sending a dizzying rush of desire coursing through her veins.

Gabriel gave her a lazy, roguish smile. “A dusting of sugar,” he murmured.

He kissed the bridge of her nose. “I’d not forgotten you, every day it was thoughts of you that got me through the difficult times.”

She turned his hand, clasping it palm up, within hers.

“Try another,” he murmured.

She took up another small round ball, dusted with sugar. She bit into it; cream filled her mouth, and she purred her delight. “What is it?” she asked, uncaring that her mouth was still full.

“Truffles, from France.”

She glanced down at the box and the several different types of delicacies remaining. Primrose licked the sugar from her lips. “Where else do they come from?”

“Nougat from Brussels, Turkish delights and toffee from the shop in the village.”

“I want to eat them all, now,” she murmured.

He laughed, and the sound rolled through her in heated waves. Gabriel cupped her cheeks gently between his hands. They felt different, more callused, more commanding. Wings took flight in her belly, and she swallowed.

“Tomorrow after dinner, and when we are in the drawing room exchanging gifts, I will announce our engagement to my family.”

She gasped audibly, so many emotions tearing through her at that pronouncement. Joy and trepidation in equal measure. Primrose knew the countess would not take kindly to such news, not when she had her heart set on her son marrying Lady Beatrice. Primrose hated the anxiety trembling through her heart. “The countess will object.”

Remarkably he smiled. “I love my mother, but I do not need her approval. All I need is you. As a retired captain, I’m on half pay, and I daresay we will live in comfort if not style.”