But she wasn’t ready yet, and I had more work to do first.
She looked like she was about to bolt.
“There isn’t going to be a later.”
“Oh, there will be, I promise you,” I said, looking right at her mouth. “I can see you’re just as affected, sweetheart. There’s nothing to be ashamed of admitting to your desires. It’s totally normal and you should stop fighting…this,” I said, waving my hand back and forth between us.
She shook her head at me and tossed her napkin down onto the table. “I’m not—you’re mistaken about what you’re thinking I want from you.”
“And you’re one terrible liar, Gabrielle.” I lowered my voice so nobody could hear. “I have a really good memory, and I remember how you were that night in that room. With me.” I nodded slowly.
“No…please don’t.” Her breath was coming fast and she kept shaking her head in denial, the soft ends of her mahogany hair just brushing the tops of her breasts as they rose and fell from the heavy breathing pouring from her.
I didn’t let up. “How you flew apart when I made you come, the sounds you made in my mouth, my fingers tight inside you…how your tongue felt wrapped around my cock.”
“Stop!” she hissed, standing up and bringing a hand to her forehead. “I have a migraine and I need to go,” she blurted before leaving the table, gaining her a few looks from the others seated around us.
“Feel better, Gaby,” I called after her. All for show. “Let me know if I can do anything to help.”
She didn’t turn around.
The view of her arse in that tight skirt from behind was still magnificent, and I enjoyed it thoroughly as she walked away.
I know the signs of passion in a woman’s body. The flushed skin. The faltering speech. The breathing that begins in deep pulls and makes her tits heave deliciously. The guarded posture of trying to remain aloof, but knowing she’s failing miserably.
My lovely obsession—the delicious Miss Gabrielle Hargreave—had every one of those signs. And I’d wager, probably an added ache up in between her thighs.
I can fix that ache for you, Gabrielle.
I’d gotten the first thing right with her tonight.
Finally.
A lethal crack in that hard shell she owned.
And for the first time in a very long while, I could say that I felt really goddamn…happy for once.
NINE
BRYNNE had been one hundred percent correct, not that I ever doubted her. She was brilliant in her field. The larger-than-life portrait hanging in the grand stairwell at Hallborough House was a Mallerton all right. A stunning, supremely executed example from his middle period of works. Sir Jeremy Greymont and Lady Georgina Greymont with their children. God. I took it all in and enjoyed every moment of the experience.
He stood behind her as she sat in an elegantly carved chair wearing a pale pink gown and pearls. The children, a boy and baby girl, were done as children were usually presented for the times—wide-eyed and stoic. This was early Victorian judging from the clothing. I was well aware of Mallerton’s embracing of the camera obscura and figured he must have used it to paint the children and the many pets which often appeared in his works. Babies, dogs, and horses didn’t stay still for long enough otherwise.
I’d have to talk to Hannah and Freddy Greymont about some archival photographs and an official cataloguing of this into the Mallerton database. I could ask Ben to take some quick prelims for me before he left. I wondered if there were any more Mallerton paintings in this house—
“You know, I have a houseful of similar portraits just waiting for you to look at them like you’re studying that one right now.”
I jumped at the sound of his voice right behind me.
“Oh, I know you do,” I said without turning around. “I saw there were tons on the walls as I was making my escape, but I didn’t have time to spare them much more than a fleeting glance.”
What in the hell was he trying to do to me? Lurking around and stalking my every move, startling the bejesus out of me. I thought I’d ditched him at dinner. I really needed to stay out of his sights for the rest of the weekend as much as humanely possible. Tomorrow at the wedding was unavoidable, of course, but there would be two hundred other people around us and I’d be able to figure out some way to avoid him.
The problem with Ivan Everley was he continued to pursue me relentlessly and made that message very clear. I’m not an idiot. The man had said he wanted to fuck me when I’d been at his beloved Donadea, and it seemed nothing had changed in regards to that matter.
Had things changed for me?
You can’t be with him. You can’t go down that road again. Ever.