"I agree." He lifted himself slightly away from her and shrugged out of his dressing gown. His hard, muscled body gleamed in the moonlight.
Phoebe stroked his powerful shoulders, aware of a sense of joyous delight. "You are very handsome, my lord."
"No, love, I'm not. But if you are under the illusion that I am, who am I to complain?" Gabriel slid slowly down the length of her, gently easing her gown off, dropping hot kisses over her breasts and across her soft stomach. "You, however, are definitely very beautiful."
She wanted to laugh at that bit of outrageousness, but her senses were rapidly falling into complete disarray. The laughter turned into a soft sigh of desire. "I am glad you think so, Gabriel. When you kiss me, I feel very beautiful."
"Then I shall be certain to kiss you frequently." Gabriel parted her legs and settled himself between them.
Phoebe trembled when she felt his mouth on the inside of her thigh. When his lips traveled higher, she gasped.
"Gabriel, wait, what are you doing?"
"Remember, you must tell me if you like this." He dropped a kiss into the thatch of curls that shielded her secrets.
Phoebe recoiled in shock. "Gabriel, stop that." She reached down and grabbed fistfuls of his hair. "What on earth do you think you are about?"
"Don't you like this?" He touched his tongue to the sensitive little nub of flesh.
Phoebe shrieked. "Good heavens, no. Stop that at once." She yanked hard on his hair.
"Ouch. First a severe blow to my chin, and now you would tear out my hair. Making love to you is definitely a challenge, my dear."
"You said you would stop if I told you I did not enjoy something," she gasped.
"No, I did not. I said you must tell me what you like along the way."
"Well, I certainly cannot like this sort of thing. It is far too … " Phoebe broke off as she felt his tongue on the bud of delicate female flesh. Another soft cry tore through her. Unable to resist, she arched against him, seeking more of the incredible sensations. "Oh, my God, Gabriel."
"Tell me you like it, sweet." He continued the relentless assault on her most intimate secrets. He began to stroke his finger in and out of her passage as his tongue rasped her swollen flesh.
"Gabriel, stop, I cannot—"
"Tell me you like it." He sucked her gently between his teeth.
Phoebe could hardly breathe. "I cannot bear it."
"Yes, you can. You are a very adventurous woman." He inserted another ringer into her, stretching her tenderly.
Phoebe twisted beneath him as the unbearable kisses continued to devastate her. She was beyond protest now. All she could do was surrender to the flood tide of passion.
"Tell me you like this, Phoebe."
"Gabriel, I cannot … I cannot … Yes. Yes, I like it. Very much. Dear heaven, you are driving me mad." She clutched at him, this time holding him to her as she lifted herself for the hot kisses. She felt his fingers slide into her once more and then she felt the sensual tension in her lower body reach a critical point.
"Gabriel."
"Yes," he whispered. "Now. Just like that. Give yourself up to it. I'll keep you safe."
He kissed her again and Phoebe came apart into a thousand little pieces. She was hardly aware of Gabriel's triumphant groan. She felt him slide up along the length of her. She was startled at the taste of herself on his mouth as he covered her lips with his own. And then she felt his engorged shaft forge deeply into her tight, convulsing body.
Even as she adjusted to the invasion, the tiny ripples of excitement seemed to intensify. Phoebe clung to Gabriel as tightly as she had clung to the surf-lashed rock that afternoon.
She was safe.
Chapter 15
The gray light of dawn was reflecting off the sea and pouring in through the window when Gabriel woke. He instinctively tightened his arm around Phoebe, assuring himself that she was still safely tucked against him.
She was exactly where she was supposed to be. The sweet, ripe curve of her bottom was cuddled against his hip and her small, shapely foot was lying alongside his leg. His fingers cupped her gently rounded breast.
Gabriel savored the simple, newfound pleasure of awakening in the early morning light with his wife in his arms. The unfamiliar sense of intimacy was deeply satisfying.
She was truly his at last, he thought. In the middle of the night she had given him the surrender he had been seeking. Her response had been complete and uninhibited. Except for one niggling little detail, Gabriel realized, he finally had everything he wanted.
The tiny, unimportant detail was that she had not told him she loved him. Even in the heat of her passion when she had shivered mindlessly in his arms and cried out his name, she had not said the words.
Not that it mattered, Gabriel assured himself. After all, she had confessed her love in a thousand different ways last night. He remembered how she had touched him, tentatively at first, and then with growing confidence. She had stroked him gently as she learned the shape and feel of him. He felt himself growing hard again at the memory.
"Gabriel?"
"Mmm?" He turned on his side and tugged the quilt down until her rose-tipped breasts peaked up at him.
Phoebe wriggled impatiently and yanked at the quilt. "I'm cold."
"I'll keep you warm." He kissed one soft breast and then the other.
She looked up at him, wide-eyed now. "This is very strange, is it not?"
"What?" He was preoccupied with the taste of her nipple.
"Waking up in the morning with someone else in one's bed."
Gabriel raised his head. "'Tis your husband in your bed, madam, not just someone."
"Yes, I know, but all the same, it seems odd. Not unpleasant, mind you, just rather odd."
"You'll soon grow accustomed to the sensation," Gabriel vowed.
"Perhaps," she agreed, sounding unconvinced.
"Trust me. You most definitely will get used to it." He rolled onto his back and pulled her across his chest. His fully erect shaft pressed against her thigh.
"Good heavens, Gabriel." Phoebe's brows drew together in a disapproving frown as she glanced down at his heavy arousal. "Do you always wake up in this condition?"
"Are you always this chatty in the mornings?" He grasped her leg and drew it across his hips so that she was astride him.
"I don't know. As I said, I am not accustomed to waking up with someone else … Gabriel, what are you doing?" Phoebe gasped as he found her softness with his fingers and began to stroke gently.
He felt the warm honey start to flow almost at once. He grinned. "I am learning to manage my managing little wife. You must admit I am an excellent student."
He guided himself to the humid entrance of her feminine passage, clamped his hands around her hips, and eased her firmly downward.
"Gabriel"
"I am right here, my sweet."
Some time later Gabriel reluctantly tossed aside the covers and got to his feet.
"It is still very early," Phoebe observed in a drowsy voice. "Where are you going, my lord?"
"I am going to get dressed." He leaned over the bed and gave her a gentle, thoroughly proprietary pat on her bare buttock. "And so are you. We shall be leaving for London directly after breakfast."
"London?" Phoebe sat up abruptly. "Why on earth are we going back to London? We have only been here a few days."
"I have business to attend to in Town, Phoebe. You may recall that our wedding took place in a rather unplanned fashion."
"Yes, I know, but surely there is no need to rush back."
"I was obliged to drop several important matters in order to chase off after you, madam wife." He picked up his dressing gown. "I can no longer ignore those matters."
"What can be so important that we must rush off like this? I like it here at Devil's Mist."