Free Change of Heart by Joan Wolf Page B

Gil had not been pleased when she got up at five o’clock this morning. She was talking to her hostess and Lord Ashbrook when Gil came over to stand behind her. He said a few things to Liz and the earl and then told Cecelia, “I’ve called a cab. It’s time you went home, baby.”
    Cecelia tried not to look too pleased. “All right, Gil,” she said gently.
    Liz raised an eyebrow. “My, Gil, but you’ve turned into an autocrat. I wonder Cecelia puts up with such high-handed treatment.”
    “I’m used to it,” Cecelia said sweetly. “My father is Latin American.”
    Gil grinned. “I’ve always wanted an obedient wife.”
    “Well, you’ve certainly got a dashed lovely one,” said Lord Ashbrook with evident admiration. “It’s been a pleasure meeting you, Mrs. Archer.”
    “Thank you, my lord,” Cecelia murmured. She smiled at Liz. “It’s been a wonderful party, Mrs. Lewis. Thank you so much.” Cecelia did not like Liz and had persistently called her Mrs. Lewis all evening, to the barely concealed annoyance of the other woman.
    “Liz,” she said now for the third time. “After all, Gil and I are quite old friends.”
    “Really,” murmured Cecelia and was dismayed by the pang of jealousy that went through her. Liz Lewis was so elegant and sophisticated; her frosted hair was done so smartly; her conversation was so clever and witty. Gil had spent a good half hour talking to her earlier in the evening after he had drifted away from his wife’s little group. Cecelia was afraid he had found their relentlessly horsey conversation extremely boring.
    She walked with him now out to the waiting taxi, sleepy and a little let down. No, she did not like Liz Lewis. As the cab pulled away from the hotel Gil said, “I didn’t mean to drag you away if you were enjoying yourself. I just thought you had had a long day and must be tired.”
    “I was very happy to hear you say we were going.” She yawned. “I am tired.”
    “My little equestrian.” He sounded amused. “And to think I was afraid you wouldn’t know anyone at that party.”
    Her head drooped toward his shoulder and he put an arm around her. Gratefully she nestled against him. “I didn’t think I’d know anyone either,” she murmured. “Evidently half the Ridgeview Hunt are society big shots. Imagine.”
    He chuckled and very briefly touched his cheek to her hair. “Imagine,” he said. By the time they reached East Seventieth Street she was asleep on his shoulder.
    * * * *
    From habit Cecelia awoke very early the following morning. She lay quietly for a minute, her eyes going around the unfamiliar room, remembering last night’s party. She sighed a little with pleasure as she realized she did not have to get up and was turning to snuggle back down under the covers when she felt Gil’s hand slide over her waist to her hip. Slowly she turned her head on the pillow until she was looking into his eyes.
    They seemed startlingly light in his tanned face. “What are you doing awake this early?” she whispered.
    “Waiting for you to wake up,” he answered. His face looked serious, intent. The underlying amusement it so often held was gone. His hand moved slowly back over her stomach and Cecelia knew he must have felt the flutter of arousal deep in her abdomen. “Cecelia,” he said. “You are so sweet.” He moved and one hard-muscled leg slid across hers. His lips found the warm valley between her breasts. “I love to make love to you,” he murmured.
    Cecelia lay perfectly still under his touch. His fingers pushed her nightgown off her shoulders and his lips moved to the breast he had bared. The air conditioning in the apartment was cool but Cecelia felt the heat of his body, the urgent heat of male desire. His hands had moved up under her nightgown.
    “Gil,” she whispered and her body arched up toward him. The pulse of passion was beginning to pound in her now and her hands went up to hold him. The strong muscles of his back rippled