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to hers.

Longing coursed through her, settling at the sensitive flesh between her legs.

She pressed closer to him even their mouths met again, their tongues dancing together. That’s when she felt his…staff…pressing into her lower stomach.

It was hard and rather large, and she jolted just a bit to feel it between them.

For a moment he pressed her closer still, allowing her to feel his outline. She had the urge to lower her hand and trace the edges, exploring his most intimate area, but before she could, he lifted his head, easing away.

Gabriella wanted to cry in frustration.

Perhaps it was the desire he’d stirred but even deeper than that, she just wished to be close to him and it felt as though there was an invisible barrier between them. Always.

“I…” he started.

“That was lovely,” she finished, her fingers rising to her lips. They were damp and a bit puffy.

He stared at her mouth too, his gaze still dark as he watched her fingers with an intensity that stole her breath as surely as his kiss had done.

Her arms were still about him and she slid her fingers down to his collarbone, steadying herself on the breadth of his shoulders.

“It was very nice.”

Nice? She repeated the word in her head, still holding onto him. She thought Mr. Sharpe was nice. Which was to say that she held him in high regard but without much affection. Was that what the kiss had been to Austin?

She swallowed, pulling her hands from his shoulders and taking a step back. “I promised you honesty from the beginning.”

“You did,” he said, his gaze narrowing.

“I’m asking for a bit in return.” She clenched her fists at her sides as she drew in a fortifying breath.

“All right.” He cocked his head to the side.

“Madame Fleur said that sometimes…” She swallowed a lump in her throat, shifting on her feet. “Sometimes that when a man isn’t interested in a woman he is actually…”

Austin’s arms crossed as he stared down at her. “Actually what?”

Her tongue darted out to wet her lips and hands clenched and unclenched. “Interested in the company of other men.”

Chapter Nine

Austin blinked, her words nearly making him choke on his own saliva. Had she just asked him if he was a molly?

He dropped his hands to his side even as he snapped his lips shut.

This sort of confusion was what happened when a man made snap decisions and married a woman he didn’t even know. “If I were interested in men, I would not have kissed you like that.”

She winced, nodding her head even as he turned away and headed for the only bedroom in the cottage.

He’d made a mistake, he thought, as he raked a hand through his hair. Actually, he’d made several.

Marrying Gabriella.

Kissing her as he just had.

Becoming so invested in her life and her struggles.

Not just making love to his wife on the first night.

He stopped at that last one. He spun about to find her just behind him, her arms wrapped about her own frame.

He wanted this woman, there was no denying that. He had from the first. But he was a man who had thrived on control. He’d beaten a disease by being militant and the only time he’d threaten to succumb to its clutches was when he’d ignored his control and allowed baser instincts to take over.

“I should go to bed,” he said woodenly.

She nodded. “I’ll join you.”

He was tempted to say no but where else would she sleep, and why didn’t Chad have a two-bedroom cottage, and why hadn’t he thought of that when he’d stocked this one? “I’ll take some blankets and sleep on the floor.”

“Austin,” she said as she reached for his arm. “You haven’t answered my question.”

Damn. He hadn’t. “No. I am not interested in men. Not even a little.”

She gave a tentative nod. “I’ve offended you.”

Yes. No. Maybe. “I told you. My terms are for my health. Nothing more.”

She jerked her chin in agreement.

Without another word, he began to strip off his clothing, his coat, his shirt, his boots. The cool air hit his skin. He was a cad. The thought made him straighten. She was a woman who’d been on tenuous ground her entire life and he’d inadvertently placed her in the same situation by refusing to be with her physically.

She felt insecure in her position as his wife. He scrubbed the back of his neck. What a mess he was making.

Gabriella stood in the middle of the room watching him, but not making any moves to take off her own clothing. He rolled his neck, attempting to gain control of his spinning thoughts. “Should I leave the room and give you privacy?” he asked, turning back to her.

She shook her head. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t. The dress.” She pointed down over her shoulder. “It buttons up the back.”

He blinked as he realized that she had no maid and no way of removing her own clothing.

He’d have to undress her.

A lump formed in his throat as he considered the intimacy of the gesture. Touching her clothing, her body… He was already shirtless. With a groan, he motioned for her to turn around.

He undid the buttons of the top of her gown, untied her skirts, and then began working on the laces of her corset as she pulled the top of the dress off. He did his best to remove them with cool efficiency. He could remain detached. He’d built a life based upon self-control. She allowed the skirt to drop along with her petticoats and then turned to sit on the bed and remove her boots.

But Austin stilled. Her chemise showed the better part of her shapely calves and he had the distinct urge to trace them with his fingers. Explore the outline of the flesh with his hand and then…

Instead, he dropped to one knee and reached for her boot, gently removing one and then the other.

He held her calf as he worked and, without thought, his fingers slid up to the back

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