Promise Me

Chapter Eighteen

"Gabby?"

Gabriella snuggled closer to Boromir, her arm draped about his hips, her eyes closed as she murmured back, "Mmm?"

"I'm sorry. I was a complete jackanapes to you."

"Tell me true," she lifted her head to gaze down into his sleepy green eyes, "were you with Ava last eve?"

Her heart thudded dully against her ribs as the words left her mouth and she braced herself for his answer. If he had been, she couldn't exactly be angry with him, no matter how much it might hurt to hear it. After all, she'd made herself clear that things were over between them, so who could blame him if he sought the company of someone else?

Still, she'd be lying to herself if she tried to convince herself it wouldn't trouble her at all, because it would. It would haunt her until her dying days, whether it was fair of her or not.

But, to her relief, he shook his head. "No. I almost went to take a drink with her, but halfway to her flat, I changed my mind."

Relief surged through her, although she tried to remain as blasé about it as she could. "Why?"

"She tried to kiss me," he confessed softly, his fingers moving along her hair now, tucking it back behind her left ear. "And when I looked down at her, it was all wrong. Her eyes were the wrong color. Her hair was the wrong color. Her face was the wrong face. She wasn't the beautiful, silver-eyed blonde I've been in love with since I was old enough to know what love was, but the wrong woman entirely."

She pressed her lips together as she shook her head, then managed to whisper, "You needn't tell me what you think I wish to hear."

"I tell you the truth, Gabriella." He smiled, still stroking her hair. "There is no other woman who fires my blood and arouses my desire the way you do, love. And no other woman ever will."

As he spoke, he came up over her, urging her onto her back, and covered her body with his. "I love you. And only you. And that will not change, no matter how angry you grow with me."

She smiled up at him, winding her arms about his neck. "I am a lucky woman," she whispered, tugging him down to meet her lips.

He came flush against her, his lips warm and soft, moving slowly against hers. The coarse hair of his goatee tickled, her skin so sensitive to the brush of it. But at the same time, that coarseness was a caress all of its own. She couldn't imagine his face without it, really, as he'd sported from the time he was old enough to grow it. Besides, while it prickled bit and tickled a bit, she would never in a millennia ask him to shave it. And when he swept a smoking kiss along her neck, and that hair scraped against her, her toes actually curled from the sensations it sent sweeping through her.

Her eyes slid shut and she couldn't hold back her sigh. "That feels so nice..."

He lifted his head. "It's supposed to, you know."

"I know. But I thought you might like to hear it."

Those green eyes glinted. "Of course... tell me if you like what I'm doing. Tell me if you don't like what I'm doing. Tell me if I'm not doing something you want me to do, and I promise you, darling girl, I will do it. You needn't be shy with me, you know. Anything you wish, Gabby, tell me and I will do it for you. Do it to you. And I will do so gladly and enthusiastically."

She shivered at the husky promise in his voice. "The same holds true for you, you know."

He brushed her lips once more. "I do love you."

"I love you, too."

His eyes darkened as he eased himself carefully between her thighs. "So, you will marry me after all?"