“Dessert, milord,” one of the servants murmured while clearing their used dishes away. “Sugarplum brandy cakes.”

The dessert was set before them, and Celia admired the pretty picture it made. The cake, a sponge-like creation soaked in sweetened brandy, was decorated with beautifully sugared plums and a dollop of fresh cream. It was too gorgeous to even eat.

“Oh, it’s so lovely!” Celia exclaimed with a clap of her hands. “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen a prettier dessert. Your chef is very talented, indeed.”

Gabriel’s gaze flickered between the lavish dessert and Celia herself.

“Don’t you want dessert?” Celia asked, scooping up a bit of the cream and licking it from the spoon. It was as delightful as she expected.

“Yes. I’m ravenous for it.”

“Then why are you not eating it? It’s very good.”

“That is my intention. To feast until I can take no more.”

Celia’s head tilted at the husky quality of his voice. It vibrated through her, and she suddenly realized he was not speaking of the desserts on the plates before them.

“Leave us.” Gabriel waved a hand at the servants, and without so much as a single word, the two men quickly abandoned their post. Now, she was alone with her new husband, and he looked as though he seesawed between spanking her for some unknown transgression or rewarding her for tempting him.

“Will you do something for me, pet?” Gabriel asked in a voice brimming with sexual connotations.

Celia’s hand tightened on the spoon, her mind racing with thoughts of what he might do. “Yes, my lord.”

I’ll do anything you ask of me. Why that is, I cannot even begin to understand. But I will. Because being with you erases the darkness that chases me. It makes me feel whole. Safe. Needed.

She could not say such things aloud, even if her face most likely conveyed every thought as though it were shouted from the rooftops.

Gabriel’s fingertips drummed against the tablecloth in a soft staccato. His eyes burned into hers while Celia shivered with awareness.

“Come stand before me.”

“Why?” Celia boldly asked. The air in the room shifted, and the heat of his gaze flared, the dark whiskey-hued depths of his eyes glimmering with promise and retribution.

“Because I told you to do so, pet. And because I want my dessert spread before me. Gasping my name and clenching my fingers.”

There was no denying what he wanted.

“But here, Gabriel?” Celia stuttered. “The servants…”

“In case you haven’t noticed, they are practically terrified of me. Not one soul will pass through those doors,” he drawled. “Now, come here.”

Celia laid her spoon beside the plate, and after a moment of consideration, she plucked a plum from the dessert and popped it into her mouth as she stood from her chair. Her little moan of satisfaction as the sugared fruit burst in her mouth drew a low chuckle from Gabriel.

“Is it good?” When Celia nodded in response and pushed away from the table, Gabriel’s lips curved in a sultry smile. “There is no comparison to what I’m about to taste, Celia.”