“You’re welcome,” she whispered, wondering if he would now use his hands and mouth to give her the same blissful attention as he had done before.

She trembled with need, the junction of her thighs wet and aching. The taste of him, clean with a hint of soap and salt, left her even more ravenous. It was as if her new husband had fed her some manner of addictive opiate. She could not comprehend how this had happened. How she went from nervous and agitated, to unsatisfied and agitated.

Gabriel laughed softly. The self-assured air he usually exhibited returned with amazing speed. He was back in control once more. “I do know what you need, sugarplum. And usually, I would delight in giving you everything you crave. But not only will I honor my vow of not touching you tonight, but you’ve also earned a punishment for drinking more brandy than you should have. Did you think I would forget about that?”

Celia frowned. “That is not fair. You touched me and I touched you. And I truly needed that brandy. You can’t say that I didn’t. It’s been an exceedingly tiresome day.”

Positioning herself in the bed so that she could lean onto his chest, she folded her hands beneath her chin and willed him to touch her in the manner she needed.

Her efforts were in vain; however, Gabriel’s expression softened. The tenderness in which he regarded her eased Celia’s frustration a tiny portion.

“I know it’s not fair, pet,” he breathed. His hand passed over her head in a caress that made her eyes flutter shut with both sleepiness and a sense of belonging. Her head dropped. His heartbeat sounded like a thousand drums in her ear when she pressed it to his chest. Steady. True. Right. This felt right.

“But I always keep my promises,” he continued in a low voice, stroking her hair and smoothing the tangles. “Good or bad, I keep them. And this one pains me more than you can possibly imagine.”

CHAPTER 25

A loud banging on the outer chamber door startled Celia awake.

It was barely morning, the room still grey with the receding of the night. The lamp by the bed was no longer lit. Celia frowned. It’d been burning when she’d fallen asleep the night before, cradled in Gabriel’s arms. How was it that she slept without that comforting light?

Before she could inquire what was happening, Gabriel rolled from the bed in a singular motion.

Celia had forgotten he had removed his sleeping pants after their passionate encounter. Now, she found herself staring at her husband in fascination.

Dear God. He is completely nude.

Gloriously, wildly nude, and on full display for her admiration.

His entire backside could have been inspiration for one of Michelangelo’s statues. Gabriel’s muscular physique was a true work of art. Celia’s mouth went dry as her eyes traversed the width of his back, watching the muscles of his large shoulders clench and unclench. She’d never noticed how long his hair was. It lay in wavy darkness just beyond the nape of his neck, leaving her with the desire to twine her fingers into the curls.