A Curse of the Heart

Rebecca woke to the sound of Gabriel’s deep, rhythmical breathing and cuddled into the warm hard body beside her, desperate to keep last night’s dream alive.

The night had been spectacular.

He was magnificent.

Just when she thought she couldn’t possibly love him more, he did something or said something to make her heart swell. She longed to tell him, and almost blurted it out during the throes of passion, when her mind and body shook with a need only he could sate. When she knew there would never be another, only him.

Feeling desire spark again and remembering how glorious it felt to join with him, she glanced up at his closed lids before peering under the sheet to study the masculine form she found so intriguing.

He felt like marble encased in soft silk. His body had a potent scent, an addictive essence that made her want to rain kisses along his torso, taste the skin stretched taut across his abdomen, to delve lower as she wondered what it would be like to take him in her mouth, to have the power to —

“Did you find what you were looking for?”

His languid voice startled her, and she felt her cheeks flame.

“Yes. I mean no. It’s the spider,” she said lifting her head and finding the courage to look at him. “I thought I felt it crawling up my leg and panicked, thinking it had found a way in.”

“The spider,” he repeated, his eyes alight with amusement. “Then let me offer my assistance.”

Without further comment, he dived under the sheet until his head was at her toes. “Did it do this?” he asked, and she felt a light tickling starting at her ankle and running up to the top of her thigh. “Or was it this?”

“Gabriel,” Rebecca squealed from the shock, from the excitement, from the pleasure of having him touch her again.

He settled between her legs as his head popped out from under the sheet. “I can’t find the spider,” he said, rubbing against her in such an intimate way she almost swooned. “But I think I know of a way to distract your mind.”

Without another word, he claimed her mouth; moments later he claimed her body and let her relive last night’s erotic dream.

An hour later, she sat on the stool in front of the mirror trying to style her hair. But the sight of Gabriel’s firm buttocks, as he climbed out of bed, was too much of a distraction.

“What are your plans for today?” she asked believing the conversation would occupy his mind enough to make his movements slow, less hurried.

“I shall return to Hanover Square,” he said dragging up his breeches and she felt a pang of disappointment. “I need to wash, dress and collect a few things if I’m to stay with you again tonight.”

The word tonight held a wealth of promise, and she had to curb her excitement. “I have a few things to do, but I shall be perfectly safe during the day. Perhaps if you came back sometime after six,” she said not wanting to rouse his suspicion and knowing it would give her enough time to accomplish her task.

He turned and regarded her with a solemn expression that was so unlike the man who had ravished her in her bed. “On the subject of safety, have you considered the possibility it was not one of the Wellfords who destroyed your mother’s portrait?”

“It is not destroyed, Gabriel, just a little damaged, that’s all,” she said with a weak smile. “Besides, I’ve not had a chance to think of anything as my mind has been somewhat distracted.”

He did not look the least bit guilty and instead raised an arrogant brow. “I’d get used to it, as I’m sure you’ll be suffering from a similar predicament later this evening.”

Good, she thought, as desire unfurled in her belly. She wanted him to push the past from his mind. She wanted him to focus on the future.

“If we stand any chance of moving beyond the door of this chamber today, I suggest we change the subject. In answer to your earlier question, I am confident George did not damage the painting. As for the other two, I have no idea what they are capable of.”

He pulled his shirt over his head and a tiny groan escaped from her lips.

“Well, it was not Alexander, either,” he said.

“How do you know?”

Gabriel paused. “I believe he’s away in Italy, probably painting angels and cherubs and frittering away his inheritance.”

Rebecca raised her chin. “Oh, I see. That only leaves Freddie. Now I think about it, the men in the museum had been drinking. And I do remember Freddie being rather inebriated at the Chelton’s Ball. Perhaps it was simply a drunken prank. Perhaps his accomplice didn’t know the sentimental value of the portrait.”

Judging by the look on Gabriel’s face, he did not believe that any more than she did, which reminded her she really should try loading the pistol.

“What about the gentlemen at the ball, the ones you refused to dance with? Did you get the sense they felt slighted in any way?”