The Gift of the Marquess Read online

Grinning, he returned his attention to the hanging. “It’s lovely. You’ve quite a hand for embroidery. Didn’t you make a tablecloth for Hartwell House recently?”

  Poppy stiffened. “A couple of months ago, yes.”

  “I was there today, as you know,” he said, lifting his gaze to hers. “Mrs. Armstrong asked if you were all right. She’s missed seeing you there.”

  Poppy carefully folded the needlework and set it aside as unease curled through her. “I’ve been busy.”

  “That’s what I told Mrs. Armstrong. However, when I try to think of what you’ve been busy with, I’m afraid I don’t know what could be keeping you from Hartwell House.”

  “You are occupied with your own endeavors.” Indeed, it seemed he was more consumed than ever with estate matters—and with helping at Hartwell House. He enjoyed building and fixing things. When he wasn’t in his workshop here, he was at the institution repairing something or other.

  “I miss going there together,” he said, reaching for her hands, which she’d folded in her lap after moving the needlework. “Perhaps you’d like to go with me tomorrow or the next day?” His lips curved into a soft smile that was so at odds with the square set of his chin and the chiseled line of his jaw and cheekbones. It was that smile that had claimed her attention three years ago at a local assembly. But his humor and concern for others had won her heart.

  Straightening her spine, she answered, “I’m afraid I won’t be able to.”

  His smile dipped, turning to a slight frown. “Is there something amiss? Some reason you don’t want to visit Hartwell House anymore?”

  The concern in his eyes unraveled her closely held composure. She stood from the settee, nervous energy spiraling through her. “No.” She stepped toward the hearth, her suddenly cold body seeking the heat of the fire.

  He rose behind her—she could feel his presence as he moved close. “I wondered if perhaps…if it bothered you to spend time with the children there?”

  She turned toward him, surprised by the accuracy of his query. “Is that what you think?”

  He lifted a shoulder. “Mrs. Armstrong mentioned it. She’s happy to speak with you—to lend support—if you wish.”

  “You discussed our problems with her?” Poppy liked Mrs. Armstrong very much, but this wasn’t something one talked about with those outside the family. In Poppy’s case, it wasn’t something she talked about ever.

  “She brought it up. She’s concerned about you.” His brow creased. “As am I.”

  Emotion bubbled inside her—sadness and frustration—but she refused to surrender to despair. She’d cried too many tears. “I don’t want your pity. I don’t want anyone’s pity, not even my own. I am trying to find a way to accept that this is what my life will be, and I can’t do that with children running about. You seem to have no problem being there.” She tried to keep the irritation from her tone, but feared she failed. “How have you accepted our fate?”

  He blinked, then glanced toward the fire. When his gaze met hers once more, she saw something odd, something she’d never seen before. “I will admit it wasn’t as difficult for me as it seems to be for you.”

  Poppy’s jaw nearly dropped to the floor. She felt as if all the air in her lungs had been squeezed out and that it might never return.

  He continued, “While I would have liked to be a father, I can’t say I’m sorry you won’t suffer the risks of pregnancy and childbirth.”

  Now she knew what was in his eyes—relief. He was glad they hadn’t conceived. He hadn’t accepted anything. He’d welcomed their lot while she wallowed in sadness and disappointment.

  “You’re happy?” the question came out small and so soft, she wondered if he even heard her, because it took him a moment to respond.

  “Not happy, no. But it’s not the end of the world to me.”

  The end of the world… “That’s a bit hyperbolic.” She tried to make sense of what he was saying. He’d never revealed this to her before, and she almost felt…betrayed. “You don’t understand how I am affected.”

  “Of course I do,” he said, the furrows in his brow deepening while his eyes narrowed. “But perhaps you don’t comprehend how I feel.”

  “Oh, I think I do.” He had the blessing of feeling relieved while she suffered. And here she thought he’d suffered too.

  He edged toward her, his height making him tower above her. “Do you? Do you know the anguish I feel when I hear of another soul lost to childbirth? Just today, Mrs. Armstrong told me of a girl—a girl—who died along with her stillborn babe.”

  She insulated herself to the pain in his tone. It was nothing when compared with her torment. “Yes, it’s tragic, but it’s also life.”

  “And death. I don’t want to lose you the way you lost your mother, the way I lost my mother and sister.”

  She notched her chin up, bothered that he would mention her mother, whom she’d lost at the age of two when her mother had given birth to Poppy’s younger sister and whom she didn’t even remember. Her memories were all things she’d been told by their father and by their older brother, Calder. She was also sensitive to how deeply Gabriel grieved the loss of his own mother when he was young. “You can’t go through life fearing death. It awaits us all.”

  Anger flashed in his eyes. “I know that. But not yet. Not now.”

  She wanted him to understand her sorrow. “I’d risk it. Don’t you want to leave something of us behind? If you fear death, think of how children, how a family makes us immortal.”

  He stared at her, his jaw working as his teeth clenched and unclenched. “I’ve lost too many people, and losing you would be a living death.”

  The ache inside her leapt, hungry for a kindred soul. “You’ve described precisely how I feel. Empty. Cold. Alone.”

  His pulse beat in his throat. He lifted his hand and cupped her cheek. “How can you feel alone with me? Am I—is my love—not enough?”

  It wasn’t. And yet it was. Mostly. Maybe. She didn’t know. All she knew was that she needed to banish this heartache.

  She brought her hands up and gripped the lapels of his jacket. “Make it enough. Make it everything.”

  Gabriel stared into her eyes as expectation grew between them. She feared he would walk away.

  He didn’t.

  He thrust his hand back into her hair, dislodging pins as he cupped her scalp. Then his lips devoured hers in a searing kiss.

  She tightened her hands on his coat, holding him against her as she thrust her tongue into his mouth, claiming everything he would give her. Wrapping his other arm around her hips, he drew her to his body, pressing her pelvis to his.

  Desperate need sparked within her. This was unlike anything she’d ever experienced. She wanted this—him—to take her away from the pain in her heart. Casting thought aside, she gave all her attention to him, to the storm gathering between them.

  Anger and hurt and desire swirled together as she pushed at his coat, eager to strip him bare and lose herself in the only thing that would make her feel whole. Maybe not whole, but not completely hollow either.

  Gabriel pulled at her hair, freeing the tresses until she felt them cascade down her back. Then he helped her get his coat off, discarding it to the floor. She flicked at the buttons of his waistcoat, and that garment quickly followed the first. With a grunt, he picked her up and carried her the short distance to their bedchamber. There, he set her down beside the bed and began undressing her, his movements quick and efficient.

  Ruthless.

  He tossed her shoes away and spun her around to pluck at the laces of her gown. In a trice, the garment pooled at her feet. He pushed her petticoat down over her body to join it.

  His lips and tongue rained pleasure on the back of her neck as he loosened her corset. A moment later, it fell from her as the rest had done, leaving her clad in her chemise and stockings. He kissed along the back of her shoulder, his teeth gently scoring her flesh while his hands came around and cupped her breasts through th
e cotton of her undergarment.

  She gasped at the roughness of his touch, his thumbs and fingers drawing on her nipples. Raw lust shot straight to her sex. She wanted him now.

  “Gabriel, I need you.”

  “You’ll have me.” He pulled her chemise up, baring her backside. “Bend.”

  She did as he instructed, bracing her hands on the bed in front of her as she bowed at the waist. One hand moved between her thighs while the other dove beneath her chemise, rending it slightly at the front, to further torment her breast. He cupped and squeezed, teasing more sensation from her than he ever had before.

  He stroked her sex, and she arched back, seeking more of his touch. He slid his finger into her, filling her. She closed her eyes and curled her fingers into the coverlet.

  He kissed the side of her neck, then nipped her earlobe. “Do you feel empty now?” He thrust up into her, and she pressed forward, rubbing her clitoris against the bed.

  “No.” She gasped as ecstasy curled inside her.

  “Good.” He put two fingers in her, pumping in and out, driving her toward a mad climax.

  She clutched at the bed and snapped her hips back and forth with his rhythm. His hand left her breast, moving down between her and the mattress to flick her clitoris, again and again, sending her over the top of the mountain as she came apart in his arms.

  Without waiting to fully recover, she turned and pulled at the buttons of his breeches. As soon as they were unfastened, he bent to pull off his boots, grunting and swearing with the effort. Then he stripped the stockings from her legs while she whisked the chemise over her head and threw it aside.

  Casting the rest of his clothing off with vocal impatience, he climbed into the bed, pushing her onto the mattress. He kissed her savagely, and she gloried in the heat and despair of their joining. No, she wouldn’t think. She would only feel.

  He moved down to her breasts, his lips and tongue blazing a path of stark rapture. She reached down between them and found his sex, curling her hand around the base of his cock. He groaned, and she squeezed, milking him as she tugged up and slid back down. His hips moved against her, and moisture slicked her hand.

  He found her clitoris again, stroking wildly as he suckled her breast. She cried out as pleasure built within her once more.

  “Fill me,” she begged. “Now. Take away the emptiness.”

  He rose up and looked down at her. “You are never alone, not so long as I am here.”

  The anguish inside her split as he drove into her. She pulled him down on top of her, seeking his weight and the security he gave her—an anchor in this tumult. Moisture wetted her cheeks, and she prayed he didn’t feel it or see it. She didn’t want to think. She only wanted to feel.

  And the feelings had taken over.

  Yes, he filled her, but she knew nothing would come of it. Never mind the ecstasy flashing within her as he thrust toward her barren womb. Or the way her body responded by meeting him, her legs curling around him and drawing him deeper and deeper, as if this time would be different. As if the ferocity of their passion could change their fortune.

  She knew it would not.

  Still, she flew. Higher and higher until she stood at the precipice. Then he kissed her, bringing them together even more completely, filling her as she’d demanded.

  The climax rushed over her, sending her falling into darkness. Only this time, she knew the darkness would win.

  This time, she welcomed it.

  Chapter 3

  Time was not Poppy’s friend. She counted days and tracked her cycle, always aware of when her courses should start. And painfully disappointed when they did. It was a vicious game that she invariably lost, and she wondered what would happen if she stopped playing.

  Maybe she would stop feeling disappointed. Maybe she would look to other aspects of her life besides her inability to have a child.

  That was what she should do, but finding the strength, the courage, to do so was incredibly difficult. Particularly when she felt so alone.

  Only she wasn’t alone. Not really.

  The parchment in her hands—a note from her sister Bianca—was proof of that. As was Gabriel. He’d told her last night that she would never be alone.

  After he’d revealed that he did not share her sorrow regarding their childlessness.

  Learning that had torn a hole in her heart. She’d always thought they were united in their desire to conceive, but all along, he’d been relieved she hadn’t. Had he also been hopeful? It was a minor distinction, but it mattered. To her, anyway.

  Setting aside the note from her sister, she stood from her desk in the sitting room outside her bedchamber and strolled to the window. The day was gray and nondescript, mirroring the way she felt inside.

  One would think she would have felt better following their coupling last night. That had been an extraordinary experience—the physicality, the emotion. But in the end, the emptiness had remained. Now she wished he hadn’t told her his true feelings. Sometimes ignorance was a far more desirable state.

  Oh hell. She didn’t want to be ignorant. Nor did she want to wallow in grief any longer. It was time—the word provoked a short, harsh laugh—to stop playing this unwinnable game. Time was precisely what she needed. Time to accept and move on.

  Turning from the window, she strode from the sitting room in search of Gabriel. She found him downstairs in his study. The door was slightly ajar, but she knocked lightly anyway.

  “Come in,” Gabriel called. She pushed open the door and stepped inside. He smiled at her, his gaze dipping over her in warm appreciation. “You look lovely today.”

  She didn’t return his smile, nor did she approach his desk. She wasn’t ready to talk with him about last night and about putting this all behind them. Time, she reminded herself. “Thank you.”

  “I was hoping we might go for a ride later since the day is quite fair.” It had rained the last few days.

  “I’m afraid I already have plans.” She didn’t really. She was simply stealing time. “I came to tell you that I’ll be attending Lord Thornaby’s house party with my sister on Thursday.”

  Gabriel leaned back in his chair. He’d declined the invitation. He didn’t care for Thornaby or his friends. “You’re a kind sister to chaperone her. Why on earth does she even want to go?”

  “A variety of reasons. She is, as you know, rather sociable. She is also, as you know, unmarried. That is a situation I’m sure my brother wishes to rectify as soon as possible.”

  Gabriel snorted. “Your brother is a toad.”

  “Sometimes, yes.” Poppy exhaled. “He is still my brother.”

  “Chill is always a toad—or worse.” Chill was the name he’d been called since childhood, for he’d been the Earl of Chilton until their father’s death. “Since the moment I met him, before he inherited the title, he was a blackguard. His progression from careless rake to haughty churl was certainly interesting. How one can actually alter their character for the worst is beyond me. Especially someone with such lovely sisters. It’s as if he was raised by different parents.”

  “In a way, he was,” she said softly. She didn’t disagree with Gabriel, but today she didn’t want to agree with him either. “He had our mother for much longer than I did, while Bianca didn’t have her at all. Calder wasn’t always the way you describe him.”

  “That’s what you say. It seems he keeps devolving. We can only speculate how unpleasant he’ll be in another decade.”

  Irritation curled along Poppy’s spine. She didn’t want to listen to Gabriel insult her brother, even if Calder deserved it. “The house party lasts until Saturday.” Aside from chaperoning Bianca, Poppy thought the time away from Gabriel might help. She might even decide to stay at Hartwood with Bianca for a few days.

  He frowned. “Are you angry with me?”

  Her tongue twisted as she searched for the right answer. She wasn’t sure she had an answer, right or otherwise. “I don’t know what I am. I just need…tim
e.” She straightened, pushing her shoulders back. “I told you—I’m trying to accustom myself to disappointment.”

  He stood and started around the desk. “It doesn’t have to be like that—”

  She held up a hand, cutting him off. “Please don’t. I’d rather not listen to you offer comfort. Clearly, our perspectives couldn’t be more different.”

  Spinning on her heel, Poppy stalked from the study back up to the sitting room. She went to the desk and dashed off a response to Bianca saying she would accompany her to Thornaby’s house party.

  After folding the parchment, she stood to take it to a groom for delivery to Hartwood. While downstairs, perhaps she ought to apologize to Gabriel. He was trying to be supportive, even if he was relieved that her dreams wouldn’t come true.

  She flinched at the characterization. Yet it was precisely their situation.

  This breach would take time to heal. Even so, she shouldn’t snap at his efforts.

  Taking the letter, she went back to his study to apologize. However, he wasn’t there, so she went in search of the butler and asked if he knew where Gabriel had gone.

  “For a ride, my lady,” Walker answered. “He just left a few moments ago if you’d like to catch him.”

  “Thank you, Walker. Will you have this letter delivered to Hartwood, please?”

  He nodded. “Right away.”

  Poppy quickly fetched her cloak, hat, and gloves before dashing out toward the stables. Almost immediately, she realized she should have changed into boots, but she didn’t plan to be out long, and the stable wasn’t far.

  Hurrying along, she strode toward the stable and caught sight of Gabriel on foot up ahead. However, he altered course, veering right onto a path that led toward one of the roads on the estate.

  Poppy followed him but didn’t try to overtake him—he walked too quickly for her. She’d do her best to keep him in view and when he stopped, she’d join him.

  They continued for quite some time, and she wondered why he was walking instead of riding. Had she ruined his plans by declining his offer?

  He approached a cottage. Smoke curled from the chimney, and a woman stood outside. Poppy tried to recall who lived there but couldn’t. In fact, if pressed, she would have insisted it was vacant.