Gaslamp Gothic Box Set

by Kat Ross

  His eyes narrowed. “You did stab me, Anne.”

  “Not in the heart,” she replied defensively. A pause. “Not the second time at least.”

  The look he gave her was withering.

  A flush crept up her neck. “You wrote me a letter—”

  “In a moment of weakness,” Gabriel replied curtly. “I didn’t expect you to come here.”

  “Well, I did, so you’ll do the courtesy of hearing me out,” she said, her voice rising. “I couldn’t have leapt off that tower like you did, you great lummox, I would have cracked my skull open. And if you’d stayed for another twenty seconds, someone would be dead now. Perhaps my brother, or Vivienne. Or… or you. And I couldn’t have gone on living!”

  The hard lines of his mouth softened but she barely noticed. All the anguish of the last two months rose up in a black tide. Anne prided herself on being rational and cool-headed, but she was neither of these things where Gabriel was concerned.

  “Do you really think I would have done it if I thought there was any choice? I did it to save you, you bloody idiot.” The next words came in a monotone, dragged up from the lightless depths. “God help me, I love you with all my heart.”

  “Anne—”

  “If I could have plunged that blade into my own flesh to keep you from harm, I would have done it in a second.” Angry tears scalded her eyes. “I’ve done nothing but think of you every moment since you’ve been gone, it’s been a torment—”

  “Anne.”

  “What?” she snapped.

  His voice was frayed, nearly inaudible. “Kiss me.”

  She closed the distance in one long stride and cupped Gabriel’s face in her hands. His beard was coarse and in need of trimming. Warm breath tickled her nose as she tipped her chin up to meet his eyes.

  It was like pouring oil on a pile of smoldering embers. Anne thought her hair might catch fire from the sudden heat between them.

  Gabriel tensed at her touch, but his hand gripped the curve of her back, drawing her against him, almost unwillingly. His eyes filled with confusion and ambivalence. Anne pressed her advantage before he could change his mind, gently nipping at his lower lip. He made a helpless sound as she deepened the kiss. A hard thigh pushed between her skirts.

  “Anne,” he murmured with a note of warning, but seemed unable to finish the thought as she tugged the shirt free from his trousers, needing to feel bare flesh. His breath quickened as her fingertips brushed the muscles of his back. Her own dress felt far too tight. She could hardly draw air. Gabriel’s hand gathered the heavy material of her skirts and drew it up. Anne arched into him, drowning in that intoxicating scent of clean, half-tame male….

  “Merde.” He let her skirts fall with a long exhalation.

  “No,” she murmured. “Don’t stop….”

  He took her chin and turned it toward the sea. A group of boys in straw hats and knee-length pants stood on the beach watching them with unabashed interest.

  Gabriel cleared his throat and took a step back. “I shouldn’t have….” Spots of color burned in his cheeks. “We need to talk.”

  Anne smoothed her dress, her heart still thumping hard. Probably for the best. God only knows how “kiss me” might have ended otherwise.

  Gabriel turned his back to her as he tucked his shirt in, drawing several deep breaths before he faced her again. When he did, his expression was even grimmer. She suddenly understood that he was angry at himself for losing control. For letting her inside his defenses, even for an instant. She felt puzzled.

  Then why did he ask me to kiss him?

  Perhaps because he needed to know if there was anything left between them.

  He had his answer. And now he didn’t know what to do with it.

  Anne’s carefully rehearsed speech evaporated beneath the force of his stare. “I’m so sorry for how things ended,” she said.

  “So am I. Where are you staying?”

  “Nowhere.”

  Gabriel frowned.

  “I’ve been sleeping by the sea.”

  He rubbed the back of his neck. “So you have nowhere to go? The nearest hotel is in Hamilton. That’s a day away.”

  Anne lifted her chin. “I’m perfectly fine outside, thank you.” She held his gaze. “If you want me to leave, just say so. Tell me to go away and I’ll never bother you again.”

  A muscle feathered in his jaw. “I don’t want you to leave,” he said at last.

  She gave him a tentative smile, the knot in her chest easing.

  “I love you, too, Anne.” His eyes hardened, and suddenly, the wounds were right there at the surface. “But I don’t trust you.”

  She drew a sharp breath.

  “I put you in an impossible position,” Gabriel continued. “The fault for that is entirely mine. And I’m sure you stabbed me with the noblest of intentions.” A hint of bitterness crept into his voice. “But it doesn’t change the fact that you did. You gutted me, Anne. In every sense of the word. The last two months have been hell and I’m not out the other side yet.” A fractured pause. “I might never be.”

  His words scraped bone. “You’re right,” she said, her throat dry. “I wasn’t thinking clearly. I was so angry. And then so afraid. I should have confronted you before Vivienne came and it was too late. All I can say is that I was not myself.”

  Anne wondered if he could see the half-truth written across her face.

  Gabriel brought out the best in her — and the worst. The impulsive, savage part she’d worked so hard to eradicate. The part she’d thought might be gone forever but wasn’t. Someday she would tell him all of it, but not now. Not when any wrong word would push him further away.

  She regarded him steadily. “What shall we do, Gabriel? How can we be friends again? If there’s a way for me to make amends, you have only to name it.”

  He seemed to soften a fraction. “I need time. Can you give me that?”

  She swallowed. “Of course I can. As much as you want.”

  Anne retrieved her parasol and valise, carefully tucking the rosewood box back inside. When she stood, Gabriel was standing next to the horse, the reins in hand.

  “Come to the house,” he said. “It isn’t far. Jacob and Julian are out. You can put your things in one of the empty rooms.”

  “Who are Jacob and Julian?”

  “The surviving members of my Order.”

  She’d hoped Gabriel might be alone, but she wasn’t surprised. The Order of the Rose was his life’s purpose. Founded in the 1600s, it hunted men who used their wealth and power to escape justice for heinous crimes. Now Anne wondered uneasily how much they knew about her.

  “I don’t want to impose on you,” she said. “Or them. I like sleeping under the stars.”

  He shook his head. “After what you did to that idiot at the tavern, it’s better you stay out of sight. I’m sure the whole village knows by now.” He paused. “And there’s more we need to discuss.”

  “Only if you’re sure it won’t cause problems?”

  “I am.” Gabriel offered her the reins. “You must be tired. I can walk.”

  Anne eyed the animal with distrust. “I prefer my own feet.”

  “Don’t you ride?” he asked in surprise.

  “Only when I have no choice.”

  In fact, Anne disliked conveyances of any sort. If she wasn’t in a hurry, she walked. If she was in a hurry, she ran, a punishing, ground-eating pace she could keep up for miles. She’d done it not long ago in the snowy forests of Romania. Fleeing from him.

  Gabriel gave her a curious, appraising look. The month they’d spent together at the Chateau de Saint-Évreux was a far cry from the real world. There were still many things neither knew about the other.

  “As you prefer,” he said.

  She strode along beside him as Gabriel led his horse up a long, winding road. The land fell away until they reached the top of a hill with a view of the sea in all directions and Anne saw a limestone manor house with black shutters and
a shaded veranda. The boy from the tavern ran up to them. Gabriel gave him an affectionate pat on the head.

  “Joseph, this is Miss Lawrence.”

  “Pleased to meet you, miss,” he said with a gap-toothed smile, as if he hadn’t just seen her an hour before.

  “Likewise.” Anne returned his grin. “The barkeep did know you,” she said to Gabriel, as Joseph led the horse to a barn.

  “He’s Jacob’s cousin. He sent Joseph to fetch me when you came in asking questions.”

  The house was cool and dim inside, the shutters closed against the midday sun. Gabriel led her straight back to the kitchen, which faced a rear garden and dusty yard. A long wooden table and chairs sat near the window.

  “Are you hungry?” he asked.

  Anne nodded. “I haven’t eaten since….” She thought for a moment. “Yesterday morning, I believe.”

  He frowned. “I’ll make you something.”

  Gabriel cracked and whisked half a dozen eggs in a bowl, his movements assured and efficient, though he wasn’t whistling as he usually did. The tense line of his shoulders began to relax as he took out a lump of butter.

  “Can I light the fire?” he asked, glancing at her.

  She moved to the table and sat down, resting her chin on one hand. “Go ahead.”

  Flames were fatal to her kind, but only in close proximity.

  Soon Gabriel had the pan heated and the kitchen filled with the smell of sizzling onions and toasting bread.

  “There’s salt over there.” Gabriel poured the eggs into the pan and jerked his head toward an alcove next to the door. “Would you mind?”

  She leapt to her feet and prowled to the pantry. Anne peered inside … and froze. Just beyond the shelves of spices and dried goods, a row of pegs held three sets of black necromantic chains. They glimmered in the semi-darkness, giving off a faint luminescence like some species of poisonous mushroom. She tore her gaze away, found the salt cellar and set it on the table.

  “I have to tell you something,” she said. “It’s about the Beast of Gevaudan.”

  Gabriel grew still. “Is he dead?”

  She gave a brief shake of her head and relief washed over his features, but this was swiftly followed by worry. “If he is caged, he will not live long.”

  “I set him loose.”

  There was a long silence.

  “Into the grounds, you mean—”

  “No.” She drew a breath. “Loose. The gates were wide open. They’d been wrenched from the hinges.” Anne steeled herself for a torrent of well-deserved wrath. “I couldn’t leave him locked up. It seemed the right thing to do at the time.”

  She still couldn’t fully explain her actions. Freeing him had been a reckless act, but after what she’d just done to the man she loved, what was one more crime?

  Gabriel ran a hand through his hair, his face disbelieving. Then his lips quirked in the first smile she’d gotten out of him. “You’re even crazier than I am, Anne.”

  “You’re not angry?”

  “Angry? No.” He frowned. “But very few people would have made that choice. A wild animal over human lives.”

  “He’s more than an animal. He’s ancient. Magnificent. And I don’t think he’s killed anyone. I watched the newspapers.”

  “It is his nature to kill,” Gabriel said softly.

  Her gaze flicked involuntarily toward the pantry. “I know. I’ll live with my decision.”

  “He didn’t try to harm you?”

  “No. He just ran past me into the forest.” She thought of the huge creature with dappled grey fur and silver eyes, her voice lowering. “He was so beautiful.”

  Gabriel’s eyes lingered on her for a moment, then returned to the pan. “Yes, he is.”

  Anne set the table. Gabriel served up the omelet and they ate without speaking. She realized she was ravenous and polished off most of the eggs and four slices of toast. When the last crumbs were gone, she pushed her plate back with a sigh.

  “Thank you.”

  “De rien.” Gabriel regarded her, his arms loosely crossed. “Go ahead. Ask me.”

  She feigned innocence. “Ask you what?”

  “Who it was.”

  The last time she saw him, Gabriel’s dark blonde hair had been marred by a streak of pure white. Now it was lightened from the sun, with strands of yellow and gold, but the white had vanished. He’d drained someone with his chains. And apparently, her surreptitious glances hadn’t gone unnoticed.

  Anne shrugged. “It doesn’t matter.”

  “No? Be honest. If you want to know, I’ll tell you.” A shadow crossed his face. “There can be no secrets between us. Never again.”

  She met his gaze. “Whoever it was, if they’re dead by your hand, they deserved it. I don’t need to know more.”

  Gabriel nodded slowly. “I hope you mean that.”

  “I do.” Anne leaned forward, propping her elbows on the table. “I trust you, even if you don’t trust me.” She gave him a confident grin. “But you will. Someday, you will.”

  Gabriel’s eyes rested on her mouth for a moment. He stood abruptly. “I’ll wash up.”

  “No, let me.”

  He sank back into the chair, watching as she rinsed and dried the plates. It reminded her of the time he’d baked her a cake with pink rosettes and they’d danced under the leaky roof of the ballroom at the Chateau de Saint-Évreux, the decrepit castle he owned on Normandy’s Alabaster Coast. Gabriel had given her an illustrated edition of La Belle et La Bete. Later, when he cleaned up the kitchen, he’d told her the story of the Beast of Gevaudan and how he had learned to use its magic to change his own form. Typically, the evening ended in an argument, but it was still the best birthday she’d ever had.

  “I can show you to your room now,” he said when she finished stacking the dry plates.

  Anne picked up her valise and followed him up a flight of stairs to a hallway with four doors on each side. Gabriel opened one and stepped back, waiting outside as she entered the high-ceilinged bedroom and threw open the shutters. The windows gave a view of the sea in the distance. A salty breeze swept through the close air of the room. Anne closed her eyes with a sigh. She felt hot and sticky in the high-necked black gown.

  “Is there a place to bathe?” she asked. “I’m fairly certain I have sand in my knickers.”

  Gabriel turned away, but not before she saw a glint of amusement. “Outside in the yard.”

  She fanned herself with one hand. “Not to press my luck too far, but do you have a shirt and trousers I can borrow? I’d like to wash my things, but I’ll have to wait for them to dry.”

  He strode off, returning a minute later with a pile of clothes and a flannel towel. Gabriel arched a brow. “Is that all?”

  Her fingers brushed his wrist as she took the bundle. Gabriel’s breath hitched slightly, a sound that would have been inaudible to anyone but a daēva. Anne bit back a smile. “Yes, thank you.”

  She followed his brusque directions to a roofless enclosure with a barrel and a cake of yellow soap on a shelf. The floor was limestone, with a grooved channel to drain the water away. She hadn’t seen any wells in Bermuda and guessed the locals relied on rainwater catchment for their needs.

  Between the cedarwood box and her books, there was little space in the valise. She had one other dress, three pairs of knickers and stockings, a spare chemise, a hairbrush and a short iron blade. She’d packed the latter out of habit rather than an expectation of needing it. Only iron could dispatch wights and revenants. She no longer sought them out like Alec and Vivienne did, but it had been ingrained in her since childhood to always be prepared.

  Anne undressed and filled a bucket, sluicing the water over her head. She did have sand in her knickers, and several other places, too. After drying off, she braided her hair and tried on the borrowed clothes, rolling up the shirtsleeves and cuffs of the trousers. That worked well enough, but the waist was still too large. Anne pictured Gabriel’s face if her pants suddenly
fell to the floor. It would certainly be amusing, though he might not see it that way.

  She washed her things and found a clothesline behind the kitchen, pinning up the undergarments to snap merrily in the breeze. Then she sought out Gabriel, one hand gripping the sagging waist of the trousers.

  Anne wandered through a large sitting room with a fireplace and French doors leading out to the veranda. Just beyond she saw an open door and heard the rustle of papers. Gabriel looked up from behind a large desk, a fountain pen in hand. He appeared to be in the midst of writing a letter.

  “I don’t suppose you have a bit of rope lying around,” she said.

  He sighed and stood up, unbuttoning the braces from his own trousers and handing them over.

  Anne stood there biting her lip as she tried to figure out how to attach the braces without letting go of her pants. Gabriel closed his eyes for a moment in mute forbearance. Then he strode around the side of the desk.

  “Give them to me.”

  He quickly shortened the braces, then moved behind her. She felt a tug as he fixed the bottom of the Y ensemble to her waist and slipped the straps over her shoulders. Staring at a point above her head, he came around again and secured the front. The feel of him so close, his breath warm against her ear, was quite pleasant.

  It didn’t last long. In a jiffy, Gabriel was back on the other side of the desk.

  “Who owns this house?” she asked.

  “The property belongs to Jacob Bell.” He drew a deep breath. “I’m leaving soon, Anne. There’s something I have to do.”

  “Where are you going?” she asked, although she already knew.

  “Paris.” He paused. “Then Brussels.”

  “You’re hunting Jorin Bekker.”

  Gabriel nodded.

  “And what makes you think you’ll survive your next encounter?” she asked evenly.

  “If he ever learns I’m still alive, then I’ll be the one surprised in the middle of the night, Anne.”

  “That’s not an answer.”

  “I was so close at the Picatrix. I almost had him. Constantin caught me off guard.” Gabriel’s eyes darkened. “This time they won’t see it coming.”

  She tried to conceal the sudden dread in her bones. “I spoke to Cyrus Ashdown before I came here. When Constantin broke into his strong room at Ingress Abbey, he stole a talismanic blade from the Crusades. It must be the one he used on you at the Picatrix Club. I imagine Constantin still has it.”