He loved the thickness of her hair, the way it fell in damp waves to her waist, the way it fell over his arms and shoulders, as if wrapping him in silk. “Gabriel, how much time do we have together?”
A lifetime, I hope. But he dared not think that far ahead. “Not much.”
There was little to be done. Ian and Major Brandt were already securing another ship. Once settled, he’d be on his way, perhaps on this same early tide. But first, he’d have to toss more coins to the innkeeper and his staff, to the stable hand, probably the shopkeeper and boot maker, to keep their mouths shut about Daisy’s presence here. Then he’d somehow have to return her to Graelem’s home with no one the wiser that she had ever left it. Major Brandt would be the one to accomplish that task. With good weather and a few hours of hard riding, the major could deliver Daisy back to London by nightfall.
“Then we’d better not wait,” Daisy insisted.
“For what?”
“Our magic moment.” There was a pink blush to her cheeks as she lowered her gaze and stared into his chest. “That’s how Laurel described her wedding night.”
Gabriel set her down gently so that her feet once more touched the ground, but kept his hands loosely about her waist. The war was just getting underway. As the son of a nobleman he might have bought his way out, but he wasn’t about to abandon Wellington at his most desperate hour. How was he to tell Daisy that his chances of returning from this mission were poor? Did he dare risk leaving her with child? Was that to be his legacy, a widow and a fatherless son left behind?
For years, he’d lived by the simple rules... no broken hearts, no grieving widows, no fatherless sons. Yet, looking at Daisy’s anguish and desire, both so expressively revealed in her vivid blue eyes, he wanted to toss away all rules and just follow his heart. He desperately wanted Daisy, needed her more than he needed air to breathe.
How could he do this to her?
Her smile faded. “I’m an utter goose. You meant this to be a marriage of convenience, one easily annulled upon your return. You’re not going to seduce me, are you?”
He stopped her when she tried to pull away, wanting to feel her silken skin beneath his palms. “Daisy, you don’t understand. I wish it were otherwise.”
“So do I,” she whispered, straining the bonds of his resolve with her wide-eyed gaze.
His body was hot and about to ignite, her body serving as the spark. Lord, she was perfect. Soft and curved in all the right places. Vibrant, yielding... passionate. “I’m going to miss you desperately, you impossible little baggage. I don’t want out of our marriage.”
She let out the softest breath.
And burst into tears. “Then what’s wrong with you?” she accused between sniffles. “Haven’t you read Graelem’s warning? Or Wellington’s warning? The French know you’re coming. They’ll shoot you the moment you set foot on French soil.”
“If they catch me. Thanks to you, they’ll be waiting at Boulogne while I safely land elsewhere.”
“And in the meantime, am I supposed to sit idly by and do nothing?”
His heart tightened. “What are you suggesting? I can’t take you with me on this mission.”
“I know. But there’s something more you must do. For me. For us.” Her hands trembled as she rested them against his chest. “I love you, Gabriel. Is this all I’m to have of you?”
She was asking him to consummate the marriage. He wanted to... she wanted to... but it was a mistake. Perhaps the most idiotic thing he’d ever done.
“It’s the right thing to do,” she insisted, seeming to read his mind and determined to contradict him. “You may think your way is less hurtful to me, but you’re wrong. The worst thing you can do is deny me these last moments, if they’re to be our last moments together. Though I fervently pray they’re not. Please, Gabriel. You married me. If you’re content with the bargain, then make it official. Make me your wife in more than name only.”
He felt his resistance weakening.
She must have felt it, too, for she pressed her advantage. “Give me one precious memory of our life together.”
He said nothing for a long moment.
Her eyes began to water and he knew she was fighting to hold back her tears. “Is this what you’ll remember on those cold, French nights? Not me, soft and willing in your arms. But you and your blasted pride. You and your misguided sense of honor.”
“Damn it, Daisy. Enough.” He lifted her into his arms and settled her on the bed. The mattress dipped as he sat down beside her and reached out to stroke her cheek. “My friends and I made a pact... we swore to leave behind no broken hearts, no grieving widows.” He thought briefly of Julia and little Harry, and knew by Daisy’s expression that she was thinking of them as well.