A Night with the Bride(21)
Her heart broke for that scared eight-year-old boy. “I’m so sorry, Nicholas.” She stepped forward cautiously. “But that’s over now. Your mother is at peace.”
He stopped, head down, his back still turned to her. “A green gown is an omen of something awful to come. It fills me with a sense of dread that I simply cannot shake.”
She glanced down at her beautiful emerald gown and suddenly understood the reason for his outburst. “There isn’t a gown on earth, green or otherwise, that has the power to shift our fate.”
“I know that.” His fist connected with the wall beside him. “Damn it, I know that.”
* * *
For a brief, flawless moment, he’d fooled himself into believing he could build a life with Gabriella, filled with love, children, joy. It had been only an illusion, nothing but a goddamn fantasy.
“I can’t do this. I can’t put you through this.”
Still turned away from her, he couldn’t see her face, but he could hear her slow intake of breath.
“What are you saying?” she asked quietly.
A dull, throbbing ache gripped his heart and constricted his lungs. “I cannot marry you.”
“Nicholas—”
“I won’t have you shackled to a madman all your life.” The misery his father had endured, married to Nicholas’s mother, came roaring back with stark clarity. He wouldn’t see Gabriella suffer that same fate. “You deserve better.”
“So you are giving up,” she said flatly. “Taking the coward’s way.”
He stiffened at her accusation. “The coward’s way. Christ, Gabriella, this is tearing me apart. I’d give anything to be with you, but I can’t put you through this.”
“And what of your sister?” she said. “Do you plan on abandoning her as well?”
“You speak as though this is what I want.”
“You are surrendering, Nicholas.”
“God, I’m saving you, Gabriella.” It ripped his heart out to send her away. The pain of it was nearly unbearable. But it must be borne. He would not shackle her to an uncertain fate. He wouldn’t.
“And if I don’t wish to be saved?”
He turned and looked at her then, his gaze colliding with hers. “I’m not giving you a choice.”
Chapter Eight
Gabriella fumed. He dared to presume what she wanted or needed? “I’m a woman full grown, Nicholas. You have no right to make this decision for me.”
He raked a hand through his hair and turned away. “You don’t know what you’re saying, what you’re asking of yourself.” He turned back around and faced her. “When the madness claims me fully, I will be a monster—violent, untrusting, angry. I will see evil in everything.” He paused, his eyes locking with hers. “Even in you.”
Gabriella’s heart constricted. He’d meant to strike fear into her, but he’d managed to do quite the opposite. Just the thought of him fighting this battle alone, without her, gripped her heart and squeezed hard. She couldn’t possibly walk away, not now, not after everything they’d shared. The very idea made her stomach twist painfully.
She stepped forward. “I’m not afraid, Nicholas.” She took his large, warm hands in her own. “We can’t live our lives in fear of something that may never happen. We must live, fully, and take each day as it comes. Together.”
He swallowed, his hands tightening around hers. “I don’t deserve you.”
“Of course you don’t.” She smiled. “There are few men who would, I imagine.”
With a low growl, he pulled her into him, her front colliding with his chest. He was all hard-sculpted muscle, and the feel of his powerful body pressed against hers made her blood instantly heat.
When he spoke, his voice was rough, heavy, “I shall endeavor to deserve you, Gabriella.”
She tilted her chin up, so she looked directly into his sharp blue eyes. “Show me.”
His gaze fell to her mouth, and reaching up, he brushed the pad of his thumb across her lower lip. Then he kissed her, hard and deep, like a man possessed. His tongue twined with hers, opening her up, demanding everything.
Abruptly, he broke the kiss and stepped back. Untying his cravat, he pulled it free and tossed it aside. His jacket, waistcoat, and shirt were next, leaving his upper half completely bare to her hungry gaze.
He was built like an Adonis, smooth, flawless, and utterly breathtaking. Muscles lined his stomach, and she itched to brush her fingers across every enticing sinew, taste every rope of muscle with her tongue.