by Jayne Castle
Somewhere above her she heard her name muttered in a thick, rasping voice. Heard, too, the dark, exciting words of urgent desire, and then Gabriel was following her into the temporary, velvet oblivion. His release was total and physically overwhelming. Samantha felt crushed into the bedclothes as he collapsed completely along the length of her.
It was a long while before Gabriel’s heavy weight was shifted. Even as he rolled onto his side, he kept his hold on Samantha, his hand resting with warm possession on her breast. When she opened her lashes slowly to meet his eyes, she found him watching her. There was an instant of stark silence, and then Samantha tried desperately to rally the scattered forces of self-defense. If he gloated, even for a moment, she would strangle him.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he begged, amusement lighting his eyes along with pervasive, leonine satisfaction.
“Like what?”
“As if you’re trying to decide whether or not to go for my throat.” He reached out to draw a lazy finger across the base of her own throat.
“You’re very perceptive,” she dared.
“Do you really want to tear me apart because of what just happened?” he challenged whimsically.
“Not because of what happened but because of what I expect you’ll read into the whole thing!” she retorted, goaded. He knew, she thought anxiously. He knew and understood completely the extent of his power over her. So dangerous.
“Don’t be afraid of me, Samantha.” The amusement faded from his eyes as he smoothed back a tendril of her hair. “I’m on your side, remember? We’re partners.”
“Uh huh, Just don’t get the idea that you’re the senior partner merely because of … of….” She broke off, unwilling to put her own surrender into words.
“Because I’ve been on top when we make love?” he drawled, taking great pleasure in being able to meet her anger with a humorous sally. “You can get on top next time—I think I’d rather like that.”
“Damn it, that’s not what I meant and you know it!”
“Honey, any relationship between us had to include more than just the business angle. If you’re honest with yourself, you’ll admit that much. I wanted you from the start. And once I found out you felt the same about me, I could no more have ignored the information than fly.”
“You’re supposed to be good at flying, remember? All angels fly,” she grumbled.
He grinned, and there in the depths of her huge fourposter bed the expression was unbelievably endearing and dangerous. “Then let me put it this way: I don’t intend to ignore the information. Even if I could.”
“You think you can use it, don’t you? To control me.”
“A good businessman uses whatever it takes to keep a handle on a volatile deal. You’re one very volatile woman, Samantha Maitland.”
Suddenly a thread of hope wove itself into her head. Her golden brown eyes slitted consideringly. “Are you afraid of me, Gabriel Sinclair? Is that why you’re so anxious to prove your dominance in bed?”
“Did I prove it?” he retorted interestedly.
“Go to hell,” she muttered.
“I can’t. Not hell.” He settled onto his back, drawing her close to the perspiration-damp length of his hard body.
“I seem to recall one angel who got kicked out of heaven,” she mused sleepily. Lord, she was exhausted. Too tired to go on fighting Gabriel. She’d settle this with him in the morning, she promised herself. In the morning.
No, in the morning she had to help Eric. Poor Eric. Had he awakened yet and gone back to work at the computer? She really should go downstairs and give him a hand. But she was so sleepy…
“Gabriel?”
“Mmmmm?” He sounded just as sleepy. Satiated and content.
“You said you had questions?”
“I said they could wait. Go to sleep, honey. We’ll sort it all out tomorrow.”
“I’m not going to answer any questions that don’t relate to the Buchanan deal,” she vowed softly. She knew instinctively he wanted to know about Eric’s situation and what was going on downstairs in the back parlor. But her loyalty in this instance was clear-cut. Eric had it all. He was her half brother.
“You’ll answer them,” Gabriel told her very gently. “And then I’ll get you out of whatever idiotic scheme Eric’s dragged you into.”
“You don’t understand!”
“I understand more than you think. Go to sleep, Samantha.” He cradled her closer so that her face was pressed against his chest, effectively silencing her. Samantha gave up the small battle and succumbed to sleep.
Gabriel dozed for a time, his body relaxing completely in the aftermath of passion, but as the immediate physical lethargy faded, it was not replaced by sleep. Instead, forty minutes after Samantha had fallen asleep beside him, he found himself still awake. How much control did he have over the woman who lay curled in his arms? How much control did any man have over a woman? Would he really have enough to keep Samantha from being used by Eric? Or enough to stay in charge of the scheme she had developed for dealing with Buchanan?
She was so damn independent. So determined to follow her wild and reckless plans wherever they might lead. And she had no patience with the steady, cautious, rather dull way he went about things.
But she responded to him in bed. In bed she was his. Totally.
Clinging to that small reassurance, Gabriel allowed his mind to drift, seeking the solace of sleep. He would be busy enough in the morning when he took on brother and sister.
The splintering, thudding crash downstairs half an hour later brought Samantha bolt upright in bed, her heart pounding, her body shivering with instinctive, startled fear. Blindly she put out her hand, seeking the comfort of Gabriel’s solid strength even as she tried to orient herself in the darkness.
“Gabriel! What on earth… ?”
But he was already sliding out of bed, heading for the door. “Stay where you are!” he ordered, his voice a bare whisper as he cracked the door an inch.
Eric’s startled shout echoed up the staircase just as Gabriel got the door open. There was another sickening thud and then the sound of savage male voices.
“You’re late, punk. Real late. You think Mr. Kirby plays games with suckers like you?”
Another crashing blow, and this time Samantha had pulled herself together enough to realize in horror what was going on.
“Eric!” She gasped, leaping from the bed and running naked to the door even as Gabriel shut it firmly and swung around to catch her. “Let me go! They’re after Eric!”
“S-s-shut-up!” Gabriel snarled, clamping his hand across her open mouth. He held her in a grip of iron as she struggled desperately to free herself. She had to get to Eric. But fighting Gabriel’s implacable grip was fruitless, and when she realized he wasn’t about to free her, she collapsed limply against him. Almost at once the palm across her mouth was lifted. His eyes blazed down at her, narrowed and infinitely dangerous.
“Who’s down there? Who’s after Eric?”
“I can’t explain it all now! Take my word for it, they’re going to hurt him. We’ve got to help him!”
Even as her eyes pleaded with him for understanding and aid for her brother, one of the invader’s voices sounded from the living room. “I’ll get the woman. Don’t want her doing anything dumb like calling the cops.” The next instant heavy, pounding footsteps sounded on the stairs.
Gabriel didn’t hesitate. “Come on.” He dragged Samantha toward the window, scooping up her nightgown and his neatly folded slacks as he went by the chair. Samantha had the impression that if the clothing hadn’t been convenient, he wouldn’t even have bothered to stop for a second and find some. As it was, she found herself being hauled, still naked, out onto the balcony, which stretched the full length of the house. All of the bedrooms opened onto it.
“It’s freezing!” she gasped, stunned by the impact of the windblown rain as Gabriel shut the window behind them.
“I’ve been saying
that since I got here,” he gritted. “This way.”
It was ludicrous, Samantha thought hysterically, running naked along a balcony at one o’clock in the morning in the driving rain of a winter night. Gabriel’s hand was clamped around her wrist, however, and the sight of his rain-slick nakedness wasn’t ludicrous at all. He looked like some savagely male animal intent on getting his woman to safety.
But it wasn’t her safety she was concerned about. Gabriel, wait! We’ve got to help Eric.”
“Quiet, Samantha. Do as you’re told. The way I see it, this whole mess is your fault, anyway.”
“My fault!”
He came to a jarring halt then in front of the last window on the balcony. He shoved at the stubborn frame of the old glass, applying a steady, irresistible force that quickly broke the old lock inside.
Samantha stared in amazement. “You’re awfully strong,” she whispered.
“You’ve got awfully weak locks. Now get inside.” He pushed her through the window, not coming in behind her.
“Gabriel, what are you going to do?” A new fear assailed her as she realized he was staying out on the balcony. “That man will realize I’m not in the bedroom. In a few seconds he’ll be out there on that balcony looking for us!”
He saw the panic in her eyes and heard the frightened lilt to her voice and reacted. Very carefully he reached through the window and gave her a violent shake, his fingertips biting into her shoulders.
“Stay in this room until I come to get you. Don’t make a sound. Not a damn sound, do you hear me? And if you ever think of leaving the room to go help Eric, I will beat the living daylights out of you when this is all over.” Samantha nodded, momentarily speechless as he shoved her nightgown at her along with his slacks.
Then he grabbed for his pants again as a thought occurred to him. Quickly he yanked the belt free of its loops. Without pausing to give Samantha a chance to recover from the blunt, brutal command in his voice, Gabriel whirled and started back along the balcony, belt in hand. The slacks stayed with Samantha.
“S-s-shi… “ He gave up and gritted “Damn it to hell” from between clenched teeth as he realized what that look in Samantha’s eyes had contained when he’d turned from her. It had been outright fear he’d seen for a few seconds in those huge tortoiseshell eyes. Fear for him? he wondered.
There was no time to contemplate that question. The man on the staircase would be reaching the top of the stairs now, trying the first closed door. He’d push it open and discover the empty, rumpled bed. It wouldn’t take any genius to figure out that the only route out of the bedroom was the window.
“Jesus! Talk about freezing your ass off?” Gabriel grunted pithily to himself as the chilling rain whipped his bare body. Thoughts of sunny California flashed through his brain even as he slammed to a silent stop beside the window of Samantha’s bedroom and plastered himself flat against the wall of the house.
What the hell was he doing here turning his ass into a popsicle in the middle of the night because of some crazy woman and her screwy half brother? He was a businessman, for God’s sake! Not Nick Carter or James Bond.
He pulled the end of the belt through the buckle, creating a large loop of leather. Crazy broad. When this was all over, he was really going to lay down the law. He was willing to tolerate a few surprises out of her, but this was carrying things to extremes.
The window of Samantha’s bedroom crashed open and the nose of an automatic pushed through. Well, hell, Gabriel thought fleetingly. It was now or never. He whipped the loop of his belt around the blue-black steel shaft of the gun and yanked for all he was worth.
Gabriel was astonished at how easily the gunman seemed to follow his weapon through the window under the fierce pull of the leather cinch. The turkey didn’t even have enough sense to drop the automatic until it was too late. The weapon went flying as Gabriel dropped the belt and grabbed for the other man’s arm.
With both hands clamped around the attacker’s forearm, Gabriel hauled him through the window and out onto the balcony. The man opened his mouth to yell, but it was too late. Gabriel already had a fist descending toward the assailant’s jaw. He held back nothing, wanting only to silence the guy and keep him silent. With his full strength behind the blow and goaded by the realization of just how much danger Samantha was in, Gabriel’s fist lashed out at the target.
The gunman crumpled to the balcony, unconscious.
For an instant Gabriel simply stood staring down at his victim. He’d never hit a man before.
Just one surprise after another, he thought savagely as he turned on his heel and raced back along the balcony to the room where he had left Samantha.
His feeling of savagery increased as he spotted Samantha leaning out of the window, anxiously watching him return. “I told you to stay inside!” He leaped over the sill, pushing her back in ahead of him.
Samantha, who had just learned the meaning of having one’s heart in one’s throat, threw herself into his arms. The nightgown she was now wearing swirled around her ankles and tangled with his hair-roughened legs. “Gabriel! Are you all right? My God, you scared me half to death!”
He stared at her for a split second and then quickly put her from him and reached for his slacks. “Other than the fact that I’m going to have frostbite in a few very inconvenient places, I’m fine. Damn it, Samantha, you’ve really gone too far this time, do you know that?” He closed the fastening of the slacks.
She assayed a shaky smile. “I’ll help you warm up the frostbitten parts,” she volunteered, realizing that this was a side of her angel she hadn’t seen before. It fit with the rest of him. Implacable, stubborn when crossed, reassuringly strong. She’d seen the way he’d dropped the gunman with a single blow. And the catch on the window hadn’t been all that weak, either. Solid, strong, dependable. Her angel Gabriel. Tonight he was the answer to a prayer.
“Turning on the cute, sexy act isn’t going to save your ass, lady. When this is all over I’m going to—” He broke off abruptly, his head coming up with a snap as the second man’s voice howled up the staircase.
“Come on, Tony. We haven’t got time for fun and games. You can screw the broad later. Get her down here!”
Samantha shivered in sudden horror at her intended fate. “What are they going to do to Eric?” she breathed.
“I have a feeling you’re in a better position to answer that question than Dam. Come on, we haven’t got much time. That other joker is going to come looking for his friend. I don’t suppose you have a gun around the house?”
“Of course not!”
“Too bad,” he sighed morosely. “I lost my chance at that other guy’s gun when it went flying off the balcony. Something tells me I won’t get away with that balcony scene twice.”
“Where are we going?” Samantha whispered anxiously as he clamped a hand around her wrist once more.
“The kitchen.”
“The kitchen!”
“Kitchens are loaded with useful things,” he growled. “The trick is getting down there without being seen.”
Samantha hesitated, not knowing why the goal was the kitchen but willing to trust him now. “These old Victorian homes have all sorts of interconnecting rooms. This room connects with what used to be the nursery, and from there we can get to the old sewing room. There’s a set of stairs from there down to the back porch.”
“And that opens off the kitchen,” he concluded with a short, frowning nod. “Okay, let’s get going.”
“There’s something else which might be useful on the back porch,” Samantha whispered, thinking. “The fuse box.”
“Be careful, Samantha, you’re starting to s-s-show evidence of a small bit of brain. Fuse box, hmmm?”
“There’s no need to be insulting! I’ve tolerated quite a lot from you already this evening.” Her fingers went to the still-stinging side of her cheek in annoyed memory.
“Do you always go around battering your business partners?”
&nb
sp; “No. I made an exception in your case because you need a little business sense knocked into you. Now s-s-shut up and try not to make a sound.”
He led her through the nursery and into the old sewing room which Samantha had converted to a plant-filled atrium. Her mother never had .thought sewing a good hobby for a modern woman, but she’d had no objection to gardening. Samantha had inherited Vera’s green thumb.
The back stairs creaked, Samantha remembered at the last minute and put out a hand to halt Gabriel. “They squeak,” she mouthed in the shadowy light.
He nodded and started down them very carefully. She followed just as cautiously, marveling at how such a solidly built man could move so well. She wasn’t going to get an apology for that shaking, she realized. It had really been a very controlled blow, not one delivered out of rage, although he had been angry at the time. She hadn’t had a chance to explain that she wasn’t going to succumb to hysteria. Samantha supposed he’d had a right to assume the worst. When this was all over, she’d explain to him very carefully that Vera Maitland hadn’t raised a daughter prone to hysteria.
The blow Gabriel had delivered to the intruder an altogether different story. Samantha chewed her lip, reflecting on the unrestrained force which had gone into it. Did Gabriel even realize his own strength? He was not the sort of man who’d gone around testing it or himself in a physical sense. She doubted that he’d ever been active in sports or that he took much interest in spas and gyms. But as that venerable torturer Miss Carson had noted. Gabriel didn’t look like he needed any spa treatments.
Perhaps he swam a lot in the ocean in front of his home?
Good Lord! Where was her mind wandering to? Eric was in terrible danger, and she and Gabriel were hardly in the clear.
“Goddamn it! Tony! Get her down here. We ain’t got all night!” The other intruder’s voice called harshly, an edge on it that made Samantha realize the man was beginning to recognize that something was wrong. Then there was sudden, absolute silence. What had they done to Eric to keep him so quiet during all this?