Page 38 of Gabriela and His Grace (The Luna Sisters #3)
And she was weeping again. Her cries were not as noisy this time, but her shoulders still shook and Whitfield’s coat grew damp with her tears. Frustration and despair coalesced into a ball of anger in her throat.
That was until a gentle hand curled around her chin and tilted her face up. Sniffling, Gabby took a shuddering breath and met the duke’s gaze.
“Please don’t cry, Ella darling.” His thumb brushed a tear from the crest of her cheek. “I would rather you insult me all day than to see you shed another tear.”
“What did you call me?” she asked on a ragged breath.
The duke’s cheeks turned scarlet, but he didn’t drop her gaze. “It just came to me. I apologize for saying it aloud.”
A very different kind of emotion weaved its way around her chest and hugged it tight.
The Duke of Whitfield had given her a nickname?
A lovely name no one had ever called her before.
A name born not of teasing or even contempt…
but perhaps of the very same emotion that made it difficult for her to draw breath.
Exhaling shakily, Gabby summoned her bravery and slid her fingers over the ones that still cupped her chin. “It seems appropriate that you would coin your own name for me.”
The corner of his mouth tipped up. “My hubris knows no bounds.”
Gabby shuddered a breath. “And I’ve always done my best to rein in your pride, so I would’ve expected a humbling nickname in turn.”
His fingers slid down her back to cup her waist, and she felt the scorching heat of his touch through her various layers of clothes.
“Not once have I ever wanted to humble you. I’ve relished your cutting wit.
Your piques of temper. The lightning that flashes in your mercurial eyes when you fix them upon me. ”
Her skin tingled, from the crown of her head to the tips of her toes, and Gabby clutched his hand within her own.
“I’ve watched you contort yourself into shapes, cram yourself into molds that could never possibly contain everything that you are.
All for the approval of a man who has no interest in understanding you.
Could never possibly comprehend your brilliance.
” Whitfield’s blue gaze was anything but icy as he stared down at her.
“And it’s been maddening to observe, because you should never have to dampen the fire that blazes so brightly inside you.
Those who claim to love you should want you to glow. ”
“They should, shouldn’t they?” she sniffled, smiling weakly when he laughed.
“Absolutely,” the duke said, his fingers flexing around her waist. “Despite your inclination to distrust me, rest assured I’m not wrong.”
Gazing up at him, Gabby marveled that she was in this moment with a man she had once despised. Whom she thought despised her in return. But she’d been wrong; what else had she been wrong about?
Her gaze dropped to his mouth, and suddenly Gabby wanted to put all of her previous notions to the test.
Straightening her spine, she held his stare. “I would very much like it if you kissed me.”
Gabby gleaned an immense amount of satisfaction from the way Whitfield whipped his head back.
“Christ,” he growled, hitching her higher against his chest, “I’ve been desperate to taste you for too damn long.”
And without a second thought, without a moment for Gabby to draw in breath, the duke’s lips came down upon hers.
It was not Gabby’s first kiss. She’d flirted and teased any number of young men, and granted a kiss a time or two. They’d been rather messy, awkward affairs, but she’d liked them well enough.
That was before she kissed the Duke of Whitfield. Or rather, that was before the Duke of Whitfield showed her how divinely toe-curling a kiss could be.
He wasn’t rough or impatient. He didn’t paw at her.
In fact, he was almost gentlemanly…if one overlooked how closely he held her.
As if Whitfield was afraid someone would steal her away.
As if she would allow such a thing. As if she wanted to be anywhere else, with anyone else, but him .
Certainly not with his lips moving over hers, his tongue teasing along the seam of her mouth until she opened to him and he dipped inside for a taste.
Without even knowing what she was about, Gabby dragged her hands over his shoulders and sifted her fingers through his hair, absurdly pleased she was not wearing gloves so she could enjoy the silky texture.
The Duke of Whitfield knew how to kiss…but more importantly, he knew how to kiss her .
Eventually Whitfield broke away, but not before bussing a kiss to her cheek and temple.
“Dinner will end soon, and I don’t want us to be caught.”
Right. Of course. Gabby stepped back, brushing loose curls from her cheeks with trembling hands.
“Shall we retire to the cabin?”
Whitfield uttered the words casually, but Gabby saw only caution in his gaze. She suspected he was concerned he had overstepped, but truly, there were only so many places she could go on the ship.
With that in mind, Gabby reached to grasp his hand. “That would be the prudent thing to do.”
The duke chuckled, pausing to smooth his thumb over her smile. “Thank you for trusting me with…this,” he ended, gesturing to the air around them.
“Thank you for giving me reasons to trust you,” she replied, relieved to know it was true.