A man born to the aristocracy might have berated Flannigan for his inappropriate compliment, but Gabriel distractedly waved the man’s words away. He was bound to hear such sentiments from others with his first steps into the venerable House of Parliament. Taking his seat among gentlemen who’d been there for years would certainly result in hearing statements far less flattering than Flannigan’s.

Tessa set down the tankard of ale before Gabriel with a loud thump, but she did not linger. Which was good, considering he’d once again made it clear he had no interest in her flagrant offers. She flounced away with a flip of her hair, and Gabriel smiled to himself. The pretty tart could not hold a candle to the gorgeous wife waiting for him upstairs.

“That will do, Flannigan. Now, if you will excuse me, my preference is to not conduct my business affairs in a public tavern. I wish to finish my ale in solitude before retiring for the evening.”

“Of course, milord.” Flannigan’s lips tightened with the dismissal, but his tone remained even as he continued. “I’ll be sure your man of affairs knows ya gave me your blessing.”

Flannigan retreated with a bow, but Gabriel barely took note of the man’s leaving. With a relieved sigh, he applied himself to drinking his ale.

It gave him something to do rather than brood over the argument with Celia.

During the night, Gabriel found himself lying on his back with Celia sprawled across him. He stared up at the wood-beamed ceiling, watching the low shadows cast by the lamp dance across the plaster surface as his wife slumbered.

It was surprising how she gravitated to him even after an argument. It was as if she instinctively knew his dedication to protecting what was his. Regardless of the harsh words they traded with one another, she was now his responsibility. He would scorch the world until it melted away like cinders for her.

Gabriel sighed, embracing her a bit tighter. The scent from her hair tickled his nose. Roses and lemons. Fresh. Clean. Sweet.

Celia’s hand laid curled over his chest and he gently picked it up, admiring the sight of his mother’s ring on her finger. He may now be a marquess with untold riches at his disposal, but this ring and the woman now wearing it were the two most precious things in his world.

Pressing a soft kiss to her fingertips, Gabriel considered how much he was coming to care for Celia. He would do whatever was necessary to keep from losing her. And if that meant honoring her wishes and forgoing his search for the man who had assaulted her, he would do that, too.

Even if the decision burned a hole in the pit of his stomach and left behind the taste of ash in his mouth.

He would do it for Celia.