Page 95 of The Rogue’s Countess

“Yes, and I love you too,” Phoebe said as she kissed him gently. “Now go.”

“Say that again.” Gideon’s arms wrapped around her waist as he pulled her into his chest.

“Say what? That I want you to go?” she teased him with a smile.

A strong hand smacked her bottom in a move that startled her. Phoebe gasped as she met Gideon’s gaze. Eyebrows raised, his gray eyes darkened with an authoritative gleam. With a laugh, she shook her head.

“You, my lord, are being a tyrant.”

“A tyrant who’s ready to stay here and torment his wife until she’s begging me to satisfy her need, only for me to make her ache even more,” he growled.

“I love you, Gideon.” As she stared into his gray eyes, her fingers brushed across his sensual mouth. “I don’t have enough words to say how much I love you.”

“That’s better,” he murmured as he brushed his lips across hers. “However, I intend to make you pay a penance for being such a disobedient wife.”

“Perhaps I need to be disobedient more often because the thought of such a punishment is a delightfully pleasant one.” Her playful words tugged a dark groan from him.

“Damn it, Phoebe. Even though I know you want me to go, you’re making it damn difficult for me to leave you,” he muttered as he grabbed her hand and pushed it between them to press her palm against his hard erection. Quickly pulling her hand away from him, she shook her head.

“Go,” she said firmly. “Enjoy your conversation with Signore Calabrese. Tonight I promise to apologize quite sweetly for having teased you.”

“A promise I intend to hold you to, Lady Chelmsford.” There was a wicked glint in his gaze as he smacked her bottom again.

“Gideon,” she protested in a breathless voice. A smile of satisfaction curved his lips as he kissed her again then strode out of their suite.

The moment he was gone, it was as if the light in the room had somehow grown dimmer at the lack of his presence. But he would come back. The knowledge made her heart swell with happiness. Falling back into the mattress, Phoebe closed her eyes as she remembered the past two weeks.

The first week they had only left their suite to have dinner downstairs in the hotel’s courtyard. The rest of the time, they’d spent in each other’s arms laughing, talking quietly, or making love until they had fallen asleep fully satiated. Last week, they had emerged from their room and walked the streets of Rome. The city was a marvel of an ancient civilization mixed with new structures that reflected they were in the modern era.

While on one of their daily outings, Gideon had pulled her into the shop of one of the city’s renowned jewelers stating he’d not yet given her a wedding present. Although she’d protested, he’d been adamant and refused to be swayed. His only concession had been accepting her choice of jewelry.

She’d chosen a gold locket with a heart etched into the top of it. When opened, it was designed to hold miniature paintings, and when she’d asked Gideon to have a small portrait of him painted, his expression made her heart feel as though it would burst from being so deliriously happy.

The clock sitting on a nearby table chimed the hour of nine. With a leisurely yawn, Phoebe climbed out of bed and make her way to the bathroom. It boasted the latest in modern plumbing features, and Gideon had declared he intended to have Chelmsford House and the house at Lethbridge Farms outfitted with similar improved plumbing.

Phoebe bent over the tub and turned on the hot water faucet. While Gideon had arranged for a maid to assist her while they were at the hotel, she had chosen not to have someone help her. Phoebe had grown accustomed to fending for herself for the past several years. She tested the water’s heat for a moment before turning on the cold water and pushed the tub’s stopper into place.

As she turned to collect a washcloth, something wet slid down along the inside of her thigh. Heart sinking, Phoebe bent over and lifted her nightgown to see a drop of blood hit the marble floor of the bathroom. A soft cry escaped her as an invisible vise constricted around her chest, and she stared helplessly at the floor.

She wasn’t carrying Gideon’s child. The onslaught of grief slicing through her caused her to stumble backward as she reached out to brace herself against the washbasin. On numerous occasions, Phoebe had contemplated what she would feel if this moment came. Her imaginings had done little to prepare her for what she was feeling now.

Tears formed in her eyes as she struggled to accept the inevitable. Although she’d known she would feel pain and disappointment, the intensity of the emotions assaulting her senses was overwhelming. Deep inside of her, a voice cried out in anguish, which made her tears flow faster.

For almost a month, she’d tried not to think about the possibility of being with child, but it hadn’t stopped her from hoping. With each passing day, that hope had become a small flame that had begun to grow brighter. Now that fledgling flame had been snuffed out.

In one brief instant, the idea and hope that she was carrying Gideon’s child had been swept away with a devastating finality. She’d been right, after all, it was unlikely she would ever be able to give Gideon a son. It was a fact she couldn’t ignore, and it made every beat of her heart a painful one. The fears she’d tried to express to Gideon had come to pass.

The first week they were in Rome, Phoebe had tentatively brought up the subject, and Gideon had dismissed her worries. He’d reiterated several times that his nephew would inherit his title. Although he’d been emphatic that he didn’t expect an heir, she couldn’t help thinking he would be disappointed to learn she wasn’t with child. Suddenly her stomach lurched as a sickening wave of fear rolled over her.

Would he regret having married her now? She quickly rejected the thought. No, Gideon loved her. He told her so several times a day, and he demonstrated it over and over again. Whether a tender caress, a smile, or in a moment of blissful passion, Gideon loved her. Never in her life had she ever felt so cherished.

Despite her refusal to consider the possibility that Gideon might experience regrets at having married her, she failed to stifle the fear slithering through her. Like a poisonous vine, it twisted its way through her veins as she wondered what Gideon’s reaction would be to the news.

Wiping the tears off her cheeks, Phoebe swallowed her sadness and disappointment. Nothing was to be done now except wait and see what Gideon would say when she told him she wasn’t with child. She could only pray he truly believed in his heart what he’d told her about not needing an heir.

Sorrow swept through her as she quickly undressed and sank into the hot water. It was a tad bit hotter than she normally liked her bath, but at the moment, she was cold, and the water helped to warm her. Phoebe didn’t know how long she’d been reclined against the back of the tub, but a shiver rippled through as she realized the water had grown cold.

Reluctantly, she climbed out of the bath and proceeded to dress. A short time later, she was staring at herself in the mirror. Phoebe winced at how pale she was and pinched her cheeks hard to bring color into them. She met the brown-eyed gaze reflected in the mirror and glared at her image.