“Wherein plans are made and too quickly shattered.”

“I should go.”

Gabriel frowned, not liking the idea of Crecy leaving the warmth of his bed one bit.

“No.”

She chuckled, the sound burrowing inside of him somehow, making him feel lighter. They had been here for hours and Gabriel could hardly credit the fact, but he didn’t ever want to move again. He glanced down at her as she turned in the circle of his arms. One hand reached up, her finger tracing the outline of his lips as she sighed.

“I don’t want to, believe me. But they’ll send out a search party if I’m too late.”

Gabriel glowered harder and tightened his hold on her. The idea that he could keep her here if he so chose was like a maggot in his brain. If he married her, she would belong to him. No one could ever take her away. He sucked in a breath as the enormity of that idea hit him. The idea of letting someone else into his life, at working her into the precision of his ordered world, it was terrifying. Crecy wasn’t ordered, she was the closest to chaos he had ever been. There would be forever books and clothes and jewellery and whatever strange thing she had most recently found scattered about his room, about the house. She would be late for meals, she would try and change him, she would probably make him talk to people. The thought made his chest tight, and yet the idea of letting her go back to Longwold alone made him feel strangely hollow; alone in a way he never had before.

It was like being presented with what you wanted and being told it was on the other side of a mountain range that looked nigh on impassable.

Yet he wanted her to stay.

“Thank you for today,” she whispered, her words a soft breath tickling over his skin as her fingers trailed over his chest.

He snorted, feeling bitter all at once. “Well, I did say you’d thank me for ruining you, it looks like I was right.”

Crecy sat up, staring down at him, her face rather stern all at once.

“Stop that, now.”

He glanced up at her, frowning. “What?”

“Stop turning something wonderful into something dark and hurtful. I know you’ll do it the moment I’m gone, that you’re doing it even now.” She sounded really angry, and Gabriel watched her with interest, intrigued in the light of her fury. No one got angry with him, ever. They wouldn’t dare. “I can’t stop how you’ll make this look in your mind, but you hear me now. You didn’t seduce me, you didn’t ruin me, and I didn’t take anything from you that you didn’t want to give, you just remember that. We like each other, we like each other’s company, and that’s all right. It’s allowed. You are allowed to be happy. Everyone is allowed a little happiness, Gabriel, even you.”

He said nothing, too perplexed to know what kind of answer to give. Silence seemed safer.

Crecy shook her head and sighed before turning and clambering off the high bed. He watched as she moved about, gathering her things together. He felt unsettled, uneasy. Crecy brought change, she brought things that he did not want, and yet watching her prepare to leave his house made him want to throw things. It wasn’t her fault she had to go, he reminded himself, the words sharp in his head.

She didn’t look at him, and the idea that she was hurt or angry with him was even worse. It was like ants crawling under his skin, an uncomfortable feeling that made him want to … to say something - to make it better, but … He scowled and got out of bed, snatching up a dressing robe and putting it on with sharp, angry movements. Damnation.

Crecy sat at his dressing table, trying to create some order in the tangle of unruly curls that had fallen about her neck, and Gabriel watched her pin it back into place with regret. He had liked it like that, loose and abandoned, framing her lovely face. Once satisfied, she reached behind her neck with both hands, struggling to do up the fastenings on her dress. Gabriel moved forward, avoiding her gaze in the mirror as he approached.

“Stand up,” he said, not sounding the least bit like a man in need of forgiveness and wanting to bite his tongue off for it.

Crecy did as he asked and he tied each fastening in turn. He finished the last one at her waist and she began to move away, but he stopped her with a hand on her hip. She turned, looking up at him, an expectant look in her eyes.

Gabriel huffed out a breath and hung his head, avoiding that look that demanded something from him.

“I don’t want you to go.” Oh, very eloquent, he muttered inwardly. You don’t sound the least bit like a sulky five-year-old.

He glanced up to see her face had softened, and she smiled at him, and though he knew he didn’t deserve it, the tightness in his chest eased a little. She tugged at the cord holding his robe closed and he moved forward.

“I’ll come back,” she said, her voice so full of certainty that it seemed impossible to doubt her, not now, at least. Not in this moment. “You know that I will come back. You have my heart, Gabriel, like it or not. I can’t very well go on living without it, now, can I?”

He stared at her, words crowding in his head, fear making his chest tight all over again. Why did she insist on spoiling everything by … by making him doubt her with such …romantic nonsense.

Crecy lifted onto her toes and kissed him. Only once, a brief touch of her lips that made him feel at once cherished and scolded. He wanted more. So much more.

“I have to run now,” she said, moving to the door.

“Wait,” he demanded, needing to delay her, at least a little. “I’ll dress and see you outside, at least.”

She gave him a smile, so full of understanding that he felt rather winded. “I don’t have time, my love. It’s all right. I can manage perfectly well.”

Gabriel felt his jaw tighten, knowing how long it would take him to dress and quite unable to contradict her. “Will you come tomorrow?”

She frowned for a moment, her blonde brows drawn together as her face fell. “Oh, damn it,” she cursed. Gabriel found himself amused at hearing her swear, so unladylike, but then he realised that meant she wouldn’t come, and he felt like saying something far more obscene. “Belle has … I mean, we are supposed to be visiting someone tomorrow, I think? I’m not sure I can. But the next day, I promise. Early as I can,” she added, hearing the clock chime downstairs as her eyes widened. “Good Lord, I have to run. Goodbye, Gabriel.” She blew him a kiss and closed the door, the sounds of her footsteps flying down the stairs echoing around the quiet house.

Gabriel stood in the middle of his room, finding that it seemed suddenly empty, devoid of colour, of life … of her.

He sat down on the bed as the realisation hit him that unless he did something, she would leave him. Perhaps not right away, and perhaps not willingly, but someone would discover them, someone would take her in hand - God knew someone needed to. A young woman of her astonishing beauty going about the countryside all alone, heaven alone knew what could happen to her. He couldn’t breathe for thinking about it - and then gave a bitter laugh as he realised that the worst had already happened. He had taken that which none but her husband had the right to. Not unless he was her husband. The idea rang in his head again, louder, more insistent, demanding to be heard.

He should marry her.

He should.

He would.

Gabriel grasped the bed post, feeling his heart squeeze so tight in panic he thought he might actually die. No. No. No. He repeated the word over and again as his breathing steadied. He wouldn’t die if he married her … but he might if she left.

He dressed for dinner, taking his time, hoping his rituals might sooth him a little, to push back the panic that his decision had created. It hovered about him still, though, like a monster he could see out of the corner of his eye. If he didn’t confront it, perhaps it wouldn’t strike, after all. So he ignored it, pretending he hadn’t made the most momentous decision of his entire life, and carried on as usual.

He went into the dining room and sat down to his meal as the servants came and went. Gabriel looked up as Piper spoke to him.

“Will that will be all, my lord?”

Gabriel knew he was by far from the most perceptive of beings when it came to fellow human emotions, but it didn’t take a genius to figure out that Piper was angry with him from the terse tone to his voice.

He nodded, watching Piper as he turned and left, the old man looking stiffer and more on his dignity than he ever had before. For a moment, he felt bewildered, wondering what the devil the old fellow’s problem was, and then it dawned on him.

Crecy.

Piper knew. He knew what Gabriel had done, dammit, the whole bloody staff probably knew. A creeping sensation of heat prickled over him, accompanied by a wash of guilt, and for one horrific moment, he actually considered calling Piper back and explaining himself.

He took a large swallow of wine and composed himself. He was damned if he would explain himself. But they’d see. Tomorrow, he would make the arrangements for the wedding. A special licence would be required, of course, he needed to get this over with as quickly as possible, needed to re-establish some kind of normality in his life as fast as he could. The idea that he also needed to have Crecy with him with all possible haste was so obvious that he didn’t bother denying it.

He finished his meal, determined to go to his study and make a list of everything that needed to be done, the things his wife would need … He stilled in the middle of folding his napkin, the word so foreign that he had to think about it again.

His wife.

For a moment, he didn’t realise he was smiling.

Gabriel got to his feet, leaving the dining room and heading to his office to start his list, but looked up as he heard voices and realised Piper was speaking to someone at the front door.

“I have news, my lord.” Paul Chambers, the man he used to spy on Winterbourne here in the country, strode towards him, looking pleased with himself. For a moment, Gabriel frowned; he had completely forgotten about Edward, about his vendetta. “I know who she is, Lord Winterbourne’s wife.”

Gabriel gestured for the man to enter his study, finding to his surprise that he would just as soon tell the fellow to come back another time, he had more important things to deal with, after all.

“Well?” he demanded, feeling terse and impatient and wanting the fellow gone already.

“Well, I got the story from Lady Scranford’s maid,” he said, beaming at Gabriel. “Apparently, they’ve hushed it up at the big house, but there were two sisters at this party of Lord Winterbourne’s, and the both of them fortune-hunters. They both tried to get Winterbourne, by all accounts, but the older one set a trap for him. Apparently, her and his lordship was caught in a delicate position in the fellow’s library. Lady Scranford was there, saw it with her own eyes as she was one of the party that walked in on them, and she said it was obvious the marquess had been caught right and proper. He had no option but to offer for her.”

Gabriel snorted, amused by the idea. Edward had always been such a ladies’ man, a popular and beloved fellow who knew just what to say to make a woman fall into his arms. You’d think he’d have been awake to such tricks. More fool him.

“So who are these enterprising young women?” Gabriel asked.

Chambers fished about in his pocket, pulling out a crumpled piece of paper. “Oh, nobodies, like I said. Not a farthing to their name, apparently, and a vulgar aunt in tow, too. Let me see, now. Oh yes, here it is, Belinda and Lucretia Holbrook.”

It was strange, how everything was so still as that name was spoken. How quiet the house seemed, when in truth, it was crashing down upon his head. He was silent for a moment that seemed to stretch out until fury hit him, hard and hot and overwhelming.

“You’re lying.”

The words were quiet but said with such white rage that Chamber’s eyes widened, fear draining the colour from his face in an instant.

“N-no, my lord, I … why would I?” Gabriel moved towards the man, who backed up, holding one hand out in front of him. “It’s the God’s honest truth, you go and ask Lady Scranford, she’ll tell you herself.”

Before Gabriel could consider anything else, he found his hands had clasped the man about the neck, and the desire to squeeze the life from him was all-encompassing. He didn’t hear or think or feel anything else but the desire to drain the life from the man who had destroyed everything.

Chambers clawed at his hands, hitting him as his eyes bulged and his face grew purple, and Chambers might be a big man, but Gabriel was out of control. Chambers wasn’t going to escape. The door to the study flew open, and suddenly Piper was there with one of the lower footmen, both of them shouting and trying to prise his hands from the fellow. The shouts drew other servants running, all of them begging him to stop before he murdered the man.

Gabriel let go, just wanting them gone now, turning on them and screaming at them to get out, get out and don’t come back.

There was a terrific buzzing in his head, his breath short and hard to snatch at, and pain, such pain that he felt he would die of it, he prayed that he would.

Fool, fool, you pathetic bloody fool.

I told you.

His father’s voice rang in his ears, louder and stronger and more strident than ever. This is what you get, Gabriel, this is what happens when you ignore me. You can’t survive without me, you’re too weak, too desperate. She got you good, didn’t she?

No. No.

She tied you up in her games, made you believe she cared about you. You? Who in their right mind would want you? She wants your title, your money, that’s what she wants - not you, you miserable excuse of a man. She nearly got you, too, you damned halfwit. She crooked her finger and lifted her skirts and you were actually going to marry her!

Gabriel let out a howl of rage, of pain, sweeping everything from his desk with one furious movement. Satisfaction at seeing everything crash to the ground made his anger grow, and he repeated it across every surface, sending everything hurling to the floor until it was all scattered. He staggered backwards, surrounded by destruction, by the ruins of everything he had, the pitiful life he had carved for himself destroyed by a pretty face. Gabriel leaned against the wall, suddenly exhausted, hollowed out, empty.

He slid to the floor as a strange emotion clawed at his throat, clogging it up, making it hard to breathe. Gabriel sucked in a breath, trying to hold it back, he would not … would not … But he could not stop the tears, tears that he had never cried for the loss of his parents, that he had never cried for being alone and unwelcome, unloved and unlovable. But now they would not be held back, and Gabriel put his head in his hands and wept.