Page 197 of Dukes for Dessert

Tonight, lovely though she was, her hair was pulled back too severely, with every curl put properly into place, but, somewhere, deep in her heart, Margaret Willingham was still that carefree child, struggling to be free of her father’s constraints. And lord, what Gabriel wouldn’t give to hear the Elfin lilt of laughter and run his hands through her glorious hair.

A familiar longing embraced him as he sat in the darkness of that carriage, studying the woman who was soon to be his wife, and as the journey progressed, he marveled that this… feeling… had remained so strong, so long—for his part.

Once more, he shifted in the carriage seat, stretching his legs, pretending a languor he didn’t feel, and when their eyes met again, he forced a lazy smile, although the effect of her gaze, even under heavy shadow, sucked the breath from his lungs.

Finally, after a long while, she deigned to speak. “Do you believe in being frank, Mr. Morgan?”

“Over duplicity, and ambiguity?” he asked with a quick smile, wondering over such a pointed question. “Yes, of course.”

“Then please forgive my plainspokenness… but I was wondering...” Her hand fluttered to her breast. “Well, you see... I know what it is I hope to gain from this union. And I know what it is Mr. Goodman claims you hope to attain, but I should like to hear it from your own two lips.”

The abruptness of her question took him aback.

“You must know, I was quite disappointed with the delay in our meeting because I fully intended to conduct my own interview prior to this engagement. However, Mr. Goodman seemed so reluctant to allow me to meet you, and now I must consider why.”

Of course, Gabriel knew why. Philip had put off their meeting—at Gabe’s request. He had been sorely afraid that Margaret would recognize him, but he wasn’t about to confess as much.

“I thought, perhaps, it might be because you were a bit of a toad,” she announced, and Gabriel nearly choked over the disclosure, though, evidently, she mistook the reason for his coughing fit, because she asked, “Mightn’t you have believed the same had I been so disinclined to show my face?”

Gabriel hid his grin with a hand, leaning back into the shadows of the coach. “I see,” he said soberly, and gave the impression he was thinking about her question while he recovered his composure. “Yes. Perhaps, I might have,” he said, narrowing his eyes as he dared to ask, “And did you find me a toad, after all?”

She lifted both brows. “Well, sir, I won’t be ill over my breakfast, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Once again, Gabriel nearly choked on his laughter. Still bold enough to speak her mind. He hoped she would never temper her sarcasm or lose that brilliant sass.

“And nevertheless, you did not answer my question,” she snapped, and her tone remained sober, despite his mirth. “What do you want, Mr. Morgan?”

“What do I want?”

“Yes, sir.”

“‘Tis simple enough,” Gabriel said. “You need my name. I need yours.”

The look on her face remained skeptical. “And you require nothing more?”

Gabriel shrugged, certain she didn’t wish to hear the truth. It was becoming clear to him that what he truly hoped for had little to do with influence or money. And it was only now, forced to acknowledge her question, if only to himself, that he realized as much. In fact, what he hoped for went even beyond his growing desire for her. What he hoped for, in truth, was to put an end to this everlasting numbness that had settled itself into his very soul. Desire. Titillation. He wanted to feel.

He couldn’t be trite enough to suppose that their parting thirteen years ago had, all by its lonesome, put the ague into his soul, but it certainly would have been a catalyst. He had become a cynic and a bit of a Cassandra, searching for the dark underbelly of every circumstance. His chosen profession didn’t help. He witnessed the very dregs of society, and it brought him low every day. Did he think perhaps that rekindling an innocent affection could lift him from the doldrums?

“Mr. Morgan?”

Gabriel shook himself free of his reverie. “Isn’t it enough?” he asked, and when she still didn’t seem appeased, he said, “Indeed, I stand to benefit greatly from your family’s reputation.”

Finally, satisfied with his answer, she settled back into her seat, then peered out the carriage window. But, of course, that was a lie, and with every mile they traveled, it became less and less the truth.

At his leisure, Gabriel studied the grown-up Maggie in profile. She had become such a stunning beauty, with her high cheeks and too kissable lips. And that wit—sharp as ever. Her hair was deceptively dark in the confines of the dimly lit coach, but Gabriel knew only too well the way it looked when the sun played on its unbound length. He could spy her face at intervals by flashes of moonlight. And, after a while, she laid her head back against the bouncing coach and studied him under cover of shadow.

She stared. At his mouth, he believed, and God save him. It was all he could do not to pull her into his arms and kiss her sweet, pouting lips as he’d longed to do from the first. Only one thing now kept him from reaching out, cupping her face into his hands, and tasting the depths of her mouth. It was the simple fact that it wasn’t her body he wished to win, but her heart. He’d been prepared to follow her dictates to the letter, but he was no longer convinced that was propitious. Not for him, and not for her. Although perhaps he should, he wouldn’t feel the least bit of compunction over what he now resolved to do…

A passionless marriage would only drive Maggie deeper behind that cold facade she wore all-too easily, and watching her now, he was blindsided by the undeniable truth: He loved her—as inconceivable as it might be. And he would employ every advantage to win her, beginning with the complexities of a wedding kiss.

“You know… I believe I’ve changed my mind,” he said gently.

Margaret blinked over the pronouncement and Gabriel had the almost irrepressible urge to reach out and lift her chin, and then to lean forward across the short expanse between them and offer his lips. He longed to slide his tongue across the seam of her mouth, slip inside to trace her satiny white teeth. He needed to drink so deeply of the sweet elixir of her mouth, and never, ever to stop…

* * *

“What do you mean, changed your mind?”