Devil in Spring

The tour continued along a wide gallery surrounding an indoor garden with a soaring roof of iron and glass. As the maître d’hôtel expounded on the amenities of the hotel . . . a water supply drawn from its own artesian well . . . sea-breeze gardens where afternoon tea was served daily . . . a full ballroom paneled with red Verona marble and lit with Louis XIV crystal chandeliers . . . Gabriel’s patience rapidly wore thin.

“Thank you for the tour,” Gabriel finally interrupted as they neared the grand staircase with its balustrade of wrought bronze imported from Brussels, decorated with scenes of the twelve feats of Hercules. There was no doubt the maître d’hôtel would describe each feat in excruciating detail. “We are much obliged. However, I’m afraid Lady St. Vincent and I have already taken up too much of your time. We’ll retire to our suite now.”

“But my lord . . . I have not yet related the story of Hercules defeating the Lernean Hydra,” the maître d’hôtel said, gesturing to a scene on the balustrade. At Gabriel’s glance of refusal, he persisted hopefully, “Hercules and the Horses of Diodemes . . . ?”

Ignoring Pandora’s longing glance at the staircase, Gabriel thanked the man once more and tugged her up the steps with him.

“But he was about to tell us a dozen stories,” Pandora protested in a whisper.

“I know.” Gabriel didn’t stop until they had reached their private suite, where their valet and lady’s maid had just finished unpacking their luggage. Although Ida was ready to help Pandora change from her traveling clothes, Gabriel decided to dismiss her. “I’ll take care of Lady St. Vincent. You and Oakes won’t be needed for a while.”

Although the statement was hardly salacious, either in content or delivery, the fair-haired, round-faced lady’s maid blushed a deep shade of pink and bobbed a curtsey. She paused only for a brief, tersely muttered exchange with Pandora before departing the suite with the valet.

“What did she say to you just now?” Gabriel asked Pandora, following as she investigated the suite, which including sitting rooms, service rooms, bedrooms, bathrooms, and a private veranda with a view of the ocean.

“She told me to drape my dress across a chair rather than throw it on the floor. Also she complained because I set my hat on a chair and soon someone’s going to sit on it.”

Gabriel frowned. “Her manner with you is too familiar. I’ve half a mind to dismiss her.”

“Ida is the Genghis Khan of lady’s maids,” Pandora conceded, “but she’s very good at reminding me about things I tend to forget, and finding things I’ve lost.” Her voice echoed slightly as she went into the marble-tiled bathroom. “Also, she told me I was a donkey-headed halfwit if I didn’t marry you.”

“We’ll keep her,” he said decisively. Entering the bathroom, he found Pandora bending over the large porcelain bathtub, fiddling with two sets of spigots and faucets, one silver-plated, the other polished brass.

“Why are there so many of these fixtures?” she asked.

“One set is for freshwater bathing, the other for seawater.”

“Truly? I could take a seawater bath right here?”

“Indeed.” Gabriel grinned at her expression. “Are we a bit less surly about our honeymoon now?”

Pandora gave him a sheepish smile. “Perhaps a little,” she admitted. In the next moment she threw herself at him impulsively, her arms circled around his neck.

Feeling the fine tremors that ran continuously through her slender body, Gabriel held her more firmly, his amusement fading. “Why are you trembling, love?”

Pandora kept her face against his chest. “I’m dreading tonight.”

Of course. She was a bride on her wedding night, facing the prospect of climbing into bed with a man she scarcely knew, with the certainty that there would be pain and embarrassment. A wave of tenderness came over him, but at the same time, disappointment settled like a stack of bricks on his chest. There would likely be no consummation tonight. He would have to be patient. He would resign himself to whatever preliminaries she would allow, and then perhaps in a day or two, she might be willing to—

“I’d rather do it right now,” she said, “so I can stop worrying.”

The statement derailed Gabriel so completely that he couldn’t speak.

“I’m as nervous as a Christmas Eve goose,” Pandora continued. “I won’t be able to eat dinner, or read, or do anything until it’s over with. Even if it turns out to be pure agony, I’d prefer that to waiting.”

His heart leapt in relief and desire, and he let out a controlled breath. “Darling love, it won’t be agony. I promise you’ll enjoy it.” He paused before adding wryly, “Most of it.” Ducking his head, he found a soft place on her throat with his lips, and felt the tight ripple of her swallow. “You liked our midnight rendezvous, didn’t you?” he asked softly. Another swallow, and she nodded. He could feel the effort she was making to relax, to trust him.

He sought her lips, urging them to part with the lightest touches of his tongue. Her response was soft at first, the innocently carnal mouth following his teasing caresses. She relaxed and leaned against him, and he could feel her attention centering on him, all her vitality pouring into him. The hairs at the back of his neck bristled in excitement, while heat danced and rioted in every part of his body. With difficulty, he ended the kiss, cradling her face in his hands, watching her long inky lashes sweep upward to reveal drowsy blue-black eyes.