Broken Wing (20 page)

She sensed his absence, knew he was far away. She had felt the metamorphosis when he had changed, no longer her Gabriel, but the other. She wanted to reach into him somehow, find him and pull him back. Pushing his hands away, she trapped his jaw and leaned in for a kiss. When his lips touched hers, she grasped a hank of his hair and tugged. “Stay with me, Gabriel! I can feel it when you leave.” His eyes cleared and he pulled her close. He didn’t pretend not to understand.

“If you’re going to make love to me, you have to stay with me, Gabe,” she said gently.

“I don’t know if I can, Sarah. I told you, I know how to fuck, not how to make love.”

“Well, you were doing just fine until a moment ago. If you don’t like what I’m doing, just tell me to stop. Don’t leave me there all by myself.”

“I’m sorry,” he sighed. “Did I … was I … Did I offend you?”

“No, you were wicked and wonderful. It’s just that your voice was odd, and your eyes were … well, you just seemed so far away.”

Relieved, he sank back into the pillows, then clutched for the covers, red-faced as he realized that he was more than half-naked, shirtless, with his still-erect member bulging from his open breeches.

She reached out quickly and snatched the blanket away from him. “Come now, Gabriel, that’s not fair! I’m here naked as the day I was born. If I am, you should be, as well.”

“Or you could dress yourself, mignonne.”

“I don’t want to dress myself.” she said with a playful pout, trailing her fingers back and forth across his chest. “I’m curious. I’ve never seen a man completely naked. If you truly cared for me you would satisfy my curiosity.”

“Not even your husband,
chère?”

“No, thank God, he always kept his bedclothes on.” She leaned over and kissed his cheek. “But you are very dear to me, Gabriel. I love you, and I love your body, too. I want to get to know it. Won’t you let me?”

Rising on his heels, he lifted his hips and slid out of his breeches, feeling shy and strangely vulnerable. When he had sex, working sex, he always oiled and insulated himself with generous amounts of alcohol, until he could distance himself enough to perform, until he became the sensual automaton his clients required. There was no alcohol easing him tonight, just Sarah, but she felt like life itself. She didn’t want to be left alone. If he was going to make love with her, he
needed to stay with her. He would do his best.

She resumed her exploration, mapping his body, front and back, with gentle caresses and honeyed kisses. She kissed his scars, one by one, hiding her tears when she saw how many, his back, his buttocks, his arms and legs, marks of whip, and blade, and fire. She kissed each in turn, as he trembled beneath her. He shuddered, teeth gritted, violently aroused as her smooth hands caressed his back and buttocks and her soft lips tenderly kissed the back of his thighs.

Cursing, he rolled over, pulling her up and gripping her tight, shifting her onto her back. “Sarah,” he moaned, “mon
ange, ma belle amie, mon amour.”
He wanted, above all else, to be gentle with her, but her slow and thorough exploration, with velvet touch and dulcet kisses, had driven him half-mad with desire. Aching with a driving need to possess her and make her his, he forgot art, and artifice, and the slow dance of seduction. Panting and moaning he ground against her as he plundered her mouth. Supporting his weight with one arm, he reached down and parted her thighs. Feeling her moist and hot against his palm he pressed against her with his thumb, touching her as he had earlier, sending waves of desire coursing through her body as she stretched her legs wider, pushing up against him, whimpering with need. He moved his hips, his heavy straining shaft rubbing, bouncing, and sliding against her. “Please, Sarah,” he rasped.

Oh, God, yes! Yes, Gabriel, please!” She reached
down to pull him toward her, cupping his aching testicles, caressing his engorged penis, guiding him to the heated center where she waited for him.

With a guttural cry, he plunged himself into her slick, tight, heat. Oh, Christ, he was in heaven! Unable to contain himself, desperate for relief, he pumped and thrust savagely as she held him tight in her arms, tight inside her. His frenzied mouth sought hers, and starving for her, thirsty for her, he drank her, consumed her, his tongue stroking and plunging wildly in rhythm with his bucking, pounding, twisting hips. When her muscles began to contract, squeezing and releasing him repeatedly in wave after wave of white-hot sensation, he felt it deep inside, through muscle and sinew, skin and bone, through rapturous nerve and singing blood, deep into his heart and soul. Shouting her name, he clutched her to him as he pumped, one, two, three, and surrendered to waves of ecstasy that transported him beyond anything he’d ever felt, or knew, or imagined. Wild, exultant, his head fell to the pillow.
This must be what heaven feels like
, he thought lazily, awash in peace and pleasure, as he floated in her arms.

Sprawled atop her, coming back to himself, to the room, he shifted his weight, afraid of crushing her, but she tightened her grasp, keeping him close. He dropped his head to her shoulder, nuzzling under her ear as her fingers played through his hair, and her lips explored his face, tasting his tears, kissing his eyes, his nose, and his mouth. Lifting and holding her tight
by her shoulders and bottom, he rolled over in one smooth motion, so she lay on top of him, their bodies still joined. Gently he pulled her head down to his shoulder, next to his heart.

“I’m so sorry, Sarah,” he murmured into her hair.

“Whatever for?” she asked, bewildered.

“I jumped on you, like a fucking animal.”

“Hah!” she chuckled, ruffling his hair, and kissing his nose. “I always thought I could drive a man wild if I cared to try, and right now I’m inordinately proud of myself. Oh, Gabe, I never knew! I had no idea! I never knew anything could feel so wonderful!”

“Neither did I,” he said honestly.

Cupping his face in her hands, she whispered against his lips, “Thank you, my love.”

“Thank you,
ma chère.”
He lay, sated and at ease in a totally unfamiliar way, amazed and wonder-struck. He had pleased his woman, and his own pleasure had been overwhelming, and for once, free of guilt. Hugging her tight he rocked her in his arms until exhausted, warm breath intermingling, they fell asleep in a tangle of loose limbs, silken sheets, and soft words of love.

Sarah was the first to wake. She took the opportunity to feast her eyes on him, as he nestled, lanky and disheveled, in her big bed. His face was relaxed, unguarded and boyish, his sensuous lips curled in a contented smile. He looked adorable. A stray lock of hair tumbled over his brow and she longed to fondle it
and tuck it back, but she hesitated. She knew he found sleep elusive and she didn’t want to disturb him when he looked so peaceful.

Rising from the bed, she reached for her nightdress where it lay, discarded, in an undignified heap on the cold floor. About to slip into it, she recalled his rather strong opinions about it last evening, and with a playful grin, laid claim to his shirt instead. It was far too big, reaching midthigh, hanging loose and open around her shoulders, but it warmed her, and it smelled like him. Chilled, she moved to the hearth to lay a fire, barring the door on the way against any unwanted early morning intrusion from one of the maids. Let them think what they would. She knew, deep inside, that what had happened between her and Gabriel was right, inevitable, fated from their first meeting, and she wasn’t going to diminish it by hiding.

When Gabriel awoke, he was alone in the bed. The light spilling through the window suggested midmorning. Sarah was sitting on the window seat, reading, knees curled into her chest, her chestnut hair tumbling loose down her back, wearing only a shirt … his shirt. He noted how pretty her toes were, amazed he had never noticed before. His gaze traveled up to trim ankles and finely shaped calves, supple from long hours of riding and walking. His breath caught in his throat when he reached the border of shirt and thigh, marvelous mysteries there, an entire world to explore. She had beautiful legs, legs a man could wrap around himself and hold onto as the world exploded.

Hardening, breathing heavily, he allowed his gaze to wander higher still. The curve of one breast was visible, creamy, soft, and firm. He knew that from last night. A darkened pointed tip thrust delicately against the linen of his shirt. Her breast reminded him of ripe
fruit, something that would slake a man’s thirst and still his hunger. His mouth watered as he imagined taking that delicate peak between his lips.

“Ahem!”

His gaze flew to hers. Blushing and wide-eyed, he looked like a naughty schoolboy.

“Enjoying yourself, are you?”

His thoughts flew to last night. “Oh, yes … enormously!” he said with a grin.

Closing her book, she rose from the window seat and came toward him. His eyes darkened and sparked as he watched the interesting things she did to his shirt. Her shirt now. She inhabited it, as she inhabited him. The thought pleased him tremendously. As she reached the edge of the bed, he reached for the hem and tugged at it, pulling her closer, pulling it open and pulling her down into the warm blankets. They made love again, and Gabriel used all the skill and subtlety that had eluded him last evening, setting her on fire with molten kisses, and a sure and wicked touch. They surged toward release, joining in a climax that left them both shaken and trembling.

“Good Lord, Gabriel what was that? What’s happening to us? It’s so powerful it’s almost frightening.”

“Are you frightened, mignonne?” he asked, stroking damp tendrils of hair from her forehead. He knew he was. Things like this weren’t meant for him. He couldn’t believe it would last.

“A little,” she admitted. “I don’t know where we
go from here. It’s all so overwhelming. Everything has changed, hasn’t it?”

“Not if you don’t want it to.”

She drew back, leaning on her elbows, and looked at him carefully. “What do you mean by that?”

“I mean the choice is yours, whether we go on this way or not. If we do, eventually your brother will know, your family. They won’t be pleased.”

“Are you suggesting we should pretend it never happened? Are you regretting it already?” She was beginning to get annoyed.

“God, no, Sarah! Of course not. This is as close to heaven as I’m ever likely to come. I love you! I just don’t want to see you hurt or embarrassed in front of your family.”

“And I love you! Do you think I would have let you into my bed if I didn’t? Do you think I would be lying here with you now, like this? Do you think that after deciding to … to be intimate with you, I would change my mind because my family might be annoyed? What kind of woman do you think I am?” Sarah was almost in tears, frustrated and hurt that after all they’d been through he would withdraw from her yet again, when she was at her most vulnerable. She jerked away from him and sat up. “I think you should go.”

Ignoring her last statement, he moved only so far as his side of the bed. He clasped his hands behind his head and looked up at the ceiling. Alarmed at her anger and sorry to have caused her distress, he tried to
explain. “I think you’re a fine woman, Sarah, a lady in the truest sense of the word. That’s the problem. You’re far too fine and good for the likes of me. You’re so far above anything I deserve, anything I’ve dared to dream of, that I have trouble believing this is real. I know you love me. I know I wouldn’t be here now if that weren’t true. I just … I … I’m afraid you’re mistaken.”

“What? What do you mean? Mistaken how?”

“I just don’t understand how you
could
love me, Sarah,” he said with a sigh. “Not if you really understood the things I’ve been trying to tell you. I’m afraid you’ll wake up one day, maybe tomorrow, maybe a year from now, and realize I’m not who you thought I was, that you’ve made a terrible mistake, and you’ll be horrified knowing what you gave up, what it cost you. I’m afraid you’ll start to hate me.”

Her anger evaporated. “Gabriel, I could never hate you. Not under any circumstances. And any woman would love you if you’d stopped snarling and growling, and just let her. You’re intelligent and kind and you make me laugh. You sing and play like an angel. You’re strong and brave, and yes, you’re beautiful. When I first saw you at Madame Etienne’s, you looked so defiant, so utterly lost and so oddly familiar. I felt like I knew you, like I’d always known you. Since then, the more I get to know you, the more I find to admire. I wish you could see yourself as I do.”

“How can you say that? You
know
who I am, Sarah.
You know
what
I am. You know better than anyone does. I’m a fucking whore, for Christ’s sake! I sell my body to anyone who wants it. I demean and degrade myself for money. Is that what you want? This fucking shell I walk around in? I thought you were different. I thought you were finer. You like my cock, my ass, my face? I still haven’t shown you all I can do with them, Sarah. It gets better.”

It was what she’d been afraid of. Uncertain of his own worth, he couldn’t believe he was wanted for himself. He thought she mistook lust for love. She feared she’d made a terrible mistake.

“Ah, Christ! I’m sorry! Sarah … love … I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that. But please don’t lie to me. Not you. I couldn’t bear it.”

She realized then that he couldn’t understand how she loved and valued him, because he’d never learned to love or value himself. She needed to explain it to him, carefully and completely, so there could be no misunderstanding. She struggled to find the right words. “Shall I tell you how I see you? Who and what, I see, when I look at you?”

There was a long silence, and when he spoke, his voice was weary. “How then, Sarah? How do you see me, truly? I need to know.”

“I see a man who’s strong and kind, who fought to stay human under the most hellish circumstances. I look at you and I see … a wounded hero, a gallant warrior standing brave in the pit of hell, protecting an
innocent child, placing yourself between him and the flames, expecting nothing in return.”