by Olivia Drake
“Greedy beggar,” Kate murmured, stroking the mare’s long neck. “You’ve had your oats already, so you can’t be hungry.”
Aware of the need for haste, she found her way to the tack room and felt around in the darkness for the necessary equipment. She had to make two trips, first for the bridle and blanket, then the saddle, which was heavier than she’d expected. With effort, she managed to lug it to the stall. She would have preferred to ride bareback, but didn’t want to do anything that would attract undue attention.
The previous day, she’d made a point of watching as a stable boy saddled a horse. Now, as she held the bit and urged it into Stormy’s mouth, the mare accepted it with surprising ease. Remembering what Vivien had taught her, Kate crooned to the animal as she fitted the bridle over the nose and ears. Then she settled the blanket in place over the horse’s back. Relieved at the ease of her tasks, she dusted off her hands.
The saddle, however, proved to be another matter. Kate lifted its awkward weight and staggered into the gloom of the stall. With a mighty push, she heaved the saddle upward, but at the last moment, the mare danced sideways and the saddle tumbled to the floor, sending up a shower of prickly hay dust.
“Blast,” Kate muttered, invoking the most indelicate curse she knew. “Blast it all!”
“Need a hand?”
The sarcastic male voice startled her. Gasping, she spun around to see a tall, shadowed figure looming in the corridor. In the half-light, he looked as big and powerful as a demon from out of the night. His hands planted on his hips, he radiated an aggressive fury.
Lucy’s Plan
“Well?” Gabriel said. “Are you now a horse thief?”
His baleful tone sent chills down Kate’s spine. Taking several shallow breaths, she cast around for a logical explanation. “I needed fresh air. I was going for a ride in the moonlight.”
“Dressed like that?” His gaze raked her boy’s clothing. “You were leaving for Damson’s estate.”
Her stomach squeezed into a knot. His statement held a flinty, uncompromising note that frightened her. For a scant moment, she wished she were safe in her bed, under the covers.
Coward. Why are you letting him intimidate you? Outfox him.
She lowered her head as if in defeat. “Yes, I admit it. You’ve caught me, my lord, so I suppose that’s the end of it. I’ll return to the house, if you’ll kindly allow me.”
She stepped toward him.
He moved, but not in retreat. His fingers closed around her arm as he hauled her out into the corridor. The feeble light cast shadows on his unsmiling face. He looked fierce and angry, the brute behind the mask of the charming rogue. “So,” he said. “Just like that, you’d give up. Somehow, I doubt you.”
“I’ve no other choice,” she said, injecting a note of bitter pride in her voice. “You’ll stop me if I—” Abruptly, she noticed his appearance. He wore a greatcoat over his shirt and breeches, and his hands were encased in leather gloves.
The dueling pistol was stuck into his waistband. “You’re wearing traveling clothes.”
“So I am,” he said unapologetically.
Stung by rage, she said, “You were intending to depart tonight, too. Without me.”
He neither confirmed nor denied her accusation. He merely stood there, watching her in that contemptuous manner, as if she were a child defying authority.
Subterfuge flew out of her mind. “And you dare to chastise me for leaving!”
Whirling, she sprang toward the stall, determined to wrestle the saddle onto the mare’s back. Gabriel’s hands bit into her arms and swung her around to face him.
“Kate,” he ground out between his teeth, “for the last time, I’m ordering you to stay here.”
“For the last time, my lord, I don’t take orders from you.”
She tried to step away, but Gabriel was swifter. He kicked the stall door shut. Thrusting his hands under her knees and back, he lifted her into his arms. Then he strode down the corridor, carrying her as effortlessly as he would a sack of grain. He turned the corner and headed toward the big double doors of the stable.
In a panic, she pushed at his chest. The action dislodged her cap, which tumbled away into the darkness. “Put me down.”
“If you behave like a disobedient child, I’ll treat you like one.”
Fear and fury tangled her tongue. “Where...what...”
He laughed, an unpleasant sound. “Speechless at last. I’m taking you to your chamber. You’ll stay there until I return.”
“No, I’ll follow you.”
“I’ll lock you in.” In one smooth move, he unlatched the door and carried her outside. The moonlight showed his grimly determined expression. “If I must, I’ll bind you, hand and foot.”
A frisson of alarm eddied through Kate. His jolting steps caused her bosom to rub against his chest in a disturbing rhythm that increased the tension inside her. She stared up at his forbidding profile against the starry sky. Gabriel meant what he said. He would force her to obey him. Once again, she had no choice, no free will. The bitter thought gnawed at her.
Unwilling to aggravate his temper any further, she seethed in silence, holding herself rigid in his arms, her fists balled against his chest. Let him play the wild savage for now. But he would not dictate to her as if she possessed no mind or will of her own. He would not.
“Unbridle the mare, Raymond,” Gabriel said, nodding toward the stables. Under his breath, he added, “While I bridle this one.”
Kate twisted her head to see the groom gawking from the pathway. A flush of mortification swept over her. Bug-eyed, Raymond doffed his cap as they walked past.
“Fetch Lady Stoke—” she began.
Gabriel tilted her closer, muffling her words against his coat. “A slight sprain to her ankle,” he called over his shoulder to the man. “She’ll be fine by morning.”
Gasping for air, Kate reared back. “How dare you mistreat me.”
“Give me cause, and I’ll dare much more.”
His ominous words raised a shiver in her. “Let me go. Now, before someone else sees us.”
Gabriel bared his teeth in a feral grin as he headed down the path that led toward the house. “Everyone is still at the party.”
Faint music floated from the Gypsy camp, mingling with the frantic beating of her heart. No one would hear her if she screamed. She had only herself to depend upon.
Dear God, he would lock her in her chamber. Then he would leave for Sir Charles Damson’s estate. He would claim the statue for himself. Hadn’t he said that all of Papa’s belongings had been entrusted to him?
He shouldered open a side door and hauled her inside. Except for the hard click of his footsteps, the house was silent as a tomb. He made his way unerringly through the maze of dim-lit corridors, then mounted a staircase, taking the steps two at a time.
As if he were eager to be rid of her.
She wanted to flail her fists against his chest. But she conserved her strength. Recognizing the gold-striped paper on the walls of the passageway, she bided her time until they reached her chamber.
The instant he set her down, she shoved open the door and lunged for the inside lock. He made a dive for her, but she twisted away. Snatching the key, she ran across the darkened bedroom and tossed it out the window. It was a petty gesture, but the only one she could think of.
“There,” she snapped. “You shan’t lock me up.”
The faint moonlight illuminated his furious features. “There are other rooms and other keys.”
“I’ll find a way out, then. I’ll be right on your heels.”
Gabriel swore under his breath. “Damson murdered your father. He’s ruthless. I won’t let you anywhere near him.”
Her resolve quailed at that. But the statue represented financial independence for her and Meg. And it was also a direct link to Papa, the chance to hold his great discovery in her hands. “I’ve the right to make my own choices. You don’t own me.”
&
nbsp; He took a menacing step forward. Catching her by the arms, he pinned her to the wall. “Then perhaps you’ll heed this.”
Lowering his head, he trapped her mouth beneath his. Kate stiffened, then struggled wildly to break free. His gloved hands cupped her face so that she couldn’t turn away. His lips were hard, angry, vengeful, a blatant bid for mastery. Her futile writhing only made her more aware of him as a man, of the superior strength of his body.
And the ungovernable response in herself.
She fought as much against her own shameful weakening as him. But instead of pushing him away, her hands gripped the smooth fabric of his greatcoat. A scandalous thrill quickened her heartbeat, flooding her with an eagerness she shouldn’t feel. As if sensing her inner turmoil, he altered the kiss with a subtle easing of pressure. The dampness of his tongue nudged at her mouth until she gasped for breath.
The moment her lips parted, he pressed deeper into her mouth, tasting her with a finesse that sent heat straight down to her loins. Never had she imagined such an intimacy. She could only cling to him, forgetting all the reasons to despise him, overwhelmed by a feast of the senses.
For so long, she had dreamed of his touch. In her secret fantasies, she had pictured Gabriel kneeling at her feet, professing his love and begging her forgiveness. Only then would she permit him a chaste peck on the cheek, or perhaps a tender embrace.
But there was nothing chaste or tender about this kiss.
Even as his mouth seduced her, his gloved fingers stroked over her face and down her arms. Instinctively, she pressed herself to him, reveling in the heat of his body. She wreathed her arms around his neck and slid her fingers into his hair, relishing its thickness. Still, she wasn’t satisfied, and the need inside her grew by leaps and bounds.
What he did next nearly made her swoon. He curled his hand around her breast and stroked his thumb across the sensitive peak. His boldness should have outraged her; in some sensible remnant of her mind she knew that no lady allowed a man such license. But the maddening pleasure of his touch banished rationality.
When his mouth moved to her throat, she let her head fall back to allow him easier access. It was as if a creature of sensuality had taken hold of her. Never had she suspected that a man could make her feel so alive. And not just any man. “Gabriel,” she murmured. “Oh, Gabriel.”
He exhaled a harsh breath. Bringing his mouth up to hers, he subjected her to another deep, drowning kiss. He plucked at the hem of her shirt, and then abruptly broke off the kiss.
Giddy, she watched as he tugged at his leather glove with his teeth. His eyes glittered through the gloom. He removed first one glove, and then the other, dropping them to the floor, never once looking away from her. The directness of his stare was unnerving, promising dark secrets beyond her wildest imaginings.
He drew her away from the window and across the room. Realizing that he was steering her toward the bed, cold reality invaded her sensual fog. She was in her chamber in Stokeford Abbey. Ready to give herself to a notorious adventurer. To Gabriel.
“No,” she whispered hoarsely. “This is wrong."
He caressed the curve of her bottom. “It’s the only right thing you and I have ever done.”
His questing hands slipped beneath her shirt, and Kate shivered at the contact of his fingers gliding over her bare back. Stunned by his boldness, she could scarcely form a rational thought. Except that she sensed a grim purpose in him. He cared nothing for her.
Lord Gabriel Kenyon would use passion as a means to subdue her.
With a cry of protest, she wrenched herself out of his arms, backing up until she met the bedpost. “You won’t seduce me into doing your will.”
He stalked after her, reaching out to stroke her cheek as he would gentle a skittish mare. “It’s better than quarreling. If you’d obeyed me, none of this would have happened.”
Obeyed. The word struck her like a dash of ice water, and she recoiled. “You profess to be my guardian. Yet you’re the man I need to guard against.”
His hand fell to his side. The harshness of his breathing filled the quiet air. “I can’t deny that,” he said in a low voice. “But it isn’t without provocation.”
“Without my permission, then.”
He hissed with impatience. “Damn it, Kate. Don’t make me out to be a villain. You desire me as much as I do you.”
Unable to deny it, she said nothing. The knowledge of her passion coiled like a snake, and incredibly, an awareness of him stirred inside her again. That kiss. How hot and hungry it had been, as if Gabriel had wanted to consume her. And she’d wanted him to do just that. She still wanted it. What was wrong with her, that her body responded to the one man who would enslave her to his will?
The patter of footsteps came from the corridor. In consternation, Kate spun around to see several people crowd into the doorway.
The Rosebuds. And Uncle Nathaniel.
Lady Stokeford held up a lighted lamp. Her bright-eyed gaze flitted from Kate’s rumpled, boyish garb to her grandson in his greatcoat. “Why, what’s this?” she exclaimed. “Why are you dressed so oddly, Kate? Are you two eloping to Scotland?”
In the space of a minute, Gabe knew he’d stepped from trouble into disaster. “Don’t be ridiculous, Grandmama. There is no elopement.”
“I am never ridiculous.” Sailing into the chamber, Lady Stokeford set down the lamp on a table near the hearth.
“Come, everyone, sit down. We may as well be comfortable while Gabriel explains himself.”
Overriding his objections, she waved the others into seats. The Rosebuds shared a chaise near the hearth, with plump Lady Enid and grim Lady Faversham like gorgons flanking his grandmother. On a bench near a dainty writing desk, Kate sat with her hands primly folded in her lap.
Nathaniel Babcock threw himself into a nearby chair, crossed his arms, and aimed a suspicious glare at Gabe. “I’m waiting to hear your reason for being in my grandniece’s bedchamber,” he said with the air of an outraged father instead of an old rascal who had invaded his share of ladies’ bedchambers. “By jings, I should call you out for this.”
Resting his elbow on the mantelpiece, Gabe assumed a casual pose, though his gut clenched with guilt. The force of his lust had taken him by storm. Kissing Kate had not been in his plans for the night. “There’s no cause for alarm,” he said smoothly. “I discovered Miss Talisford in the stables. She intended to go out for a ride, and I forbade her to do so. Then I brought her back here.”
“A ride?” Grandmama asked doubtfully. “In the middle of the night?”
“But where would she be going?” Lady Faversham asked, leaning forward on her ivory-topped cane.
“And in such dreadful apparel,” Lady Enid said. “Wearing the shirt and trousers of a workman, no less!”
All eyes turned to Kate, but she offered no explanation. She sat there as cool and remote as a queen. Not that her hoydenish appearance had any resemblance to royalty. Shorn of that ridiculous cap, a froth of red-gold curls encircled her stubborn features. The cuffs of her baggy white shirt hung down past her wrists.
Gabe had never known that a pair of ordinary brown breeches could look so fine on a female. Nor had he known that Kate Talisford could kiss like an erotic fantasy. The impact of it still shook him to the core.
Who was she, virago or vixen?
Both. Fool that he was, he wanted to hold her again, to coax forth her wildness, to take her to bed, his conscience be damned.
“Well, Gabriel?” Grandmama prompted. “Don’t just stand there gawking at the girl.”
“Yes,” Lady Faversham said severely, “tell us what really happened here.”
Lady Enid shook her finger. “And don’t leave out any details,” she added, her hazel eyes bright with interest.
With icy control, Gabe regarded them. “As I said, I escorted Miss Talisford here. There’s nothing more to it.”
Uncle Nathaniel harrumphed. “My grandniece is no cork-brain to go riding alone at ni
ght when there’s footpads about.”
“Pardon me, Lord Gabriel, but you two were quarreling,” Lady Faversham said. “We can’t help but wonder why.”
“Your voices carried all the way down the passageway,” Lady Enid added. “Though, alas, we couldn’t make out your words.”
“Miss Talisford resented my edict. I had to remind her not to endanger herself.” Seeing Kate narrow her eyes and compress her lips, Gabe said pointedly, “She dislikes obeying the good advice of her guardian.”
As if pricked by a pin, Kate broke her silence. “If you gave good advice, and if you really were my guardian, then I might heed you.”
“My guidance is given for your own protection,” Gabe said with a flare of anger. “You heard what your uncle said. Footpads prowl the roads at night.”
“So do scoundrels.”
Her gaze held his, and her tone clearly marked him as a knave. It was galling to admit she was right. Never before had he lost control of himself. Driven to the edge, he had been desperate to stop her from going to Damson. Desperate to make her submit to his will.
“I’m still not satisfied as to why Kate would be riding out at such a late hour,” Lady Stokeford said. She paused delicately, looking from Kate to Gabe. “Unless perhaps she was intending to call on Sir Charles Damson.”
Jolted, Gabe swung around to meet his grandmother’s calculating stare. “What the deuce—you were the one listening at the door that night.”
The dowager lifted her hand in an imperious wave. “Not by design. But I’m gratified that I did. Else I wouldn’t have known what really happened to Kate’s poor father.”
Kate made a small sound of distress, but said nothing.
“Henry died in Egypt,” Uncle Nathaniel said with a frown. “ ’Tis a tragedy, but one I surely mentioned to you.”
“You did, but there’s more,” Grandmama said, her elegant mouth forming a determined expression. “You deserve to know the whole truth.”
Clamping his teeth, Gabe thought back to his unwitting role in the murder. He’d let himself be lured away by a woman, leaving Henry alone to protect the goddess. It had been difficult enough to admit his culpability to his brother. Now Grandmama also knew, and without a doubt, so did all the Rosebuds.