Bride for a Night

Her expression remained wary, as if unable to accept the truth of his words.

“You no longer fear I might be a burden?”

“My feelings for you…” He faltered, unable to describe the emotions that filled his heart.

Dammit, he was not a bloody poet.

Talia allowed her hand to slide up his chest and gently placed it against his cheek as she regarded him with a pleading gaze.

“Please tell me.”

He sighed, unable to deny her soft plea. “I thought they would make me weak, but I have never felt stronger,” he admitted softly. “As if there is nothing I cannot accomplish with you at my side.”

Her mouth parted, then with a low cry she threw her arms around his neck and flashed a dazzling smile.

“Gabriel.”

He hauled her tightly against his body. He was not entirely certain what had prompted her sudden embrace. Or that smile that warmed him to the tips of his toes. And at the moment he did not care.

The sensation of her soft curves pressed against him was a delectable distraction, reminding him that it had been far too long since she had shared his bed.

“My beautiful wife,” he murmured, lowering his head to press a hungry kiss to her lips.

An urgent heat exploded through him as her lips softened and parted in welcome, allowing his tongue to dip into the sweet temptation of her mouth.

He felt her shiver, and he pressed a hand to the lower curve of her back, urging her against his aching arousal. He heard her breath catch and started planning the quickest route to his bedchamber without being interrupted by a servant. But Talia pressed her hands against his chest and arched away from his seeking lips.

“Wait,” she breathed.

He groaned in genuine pain, desperate to have her naked beneath him.

“I have missed you, my dear.”

“I still need to know why you did not want me to travel to London.”

He frowned, uncertain why she continued to nag upon his perfectly reasonable request that she remain in Devonshire.

“I have told you. I do not want you hurt.”

“But…”

He shifted his hand to press a finger against her lips. It was obvious that Talia was too preoccupied to be properly seduced. He had no choice but to confess his plot.

“Allow me to finish,” he commanded.

She arched a warning brow, but thankfully he felt the amused twitch of her lips beneath his finger.

“Very well, my lord.”

He absently outlined the full curve of her lower lip. “I cannot alter what happened in the past, but I can make certain that your future among society is considerably more pleasant.”

She stilled, her eyes narrowing with suspicion. “I do not doubt your ability to browbeat others into pretending they accept me, but to be honest, I would prefer their insults.”

He chuckled. There were moments when he forgot just how naïve she was.

“You underestimate my skills. There will be no need for browbeating.” He paused, realizing he was not being entirely truthful. “At least not from me.”

She tilted her head to the side. “Then who? Lord Rothwell?”