by Lisa Plumley
That explained her reason for confiding in him. With a single day remaining to finish her purchase of the shop she wanted, doubtless Megan was becoming desperate.
With a no-good knuck of a father like hers, Gabriel couldn’t blame her.
“Your father took it,” he said. He wished it were a guess. He knew it wasn’t.
Tightly clasping her locket between shaky palms, Megan nodded. “It’s not the first time he’s done so. When papa finds my savings he takes it, all the while believing he’s doing me a favor.”
“It seems cockeyed belief runs rampant in your family.”
She gave him a searing look. “Only as much as a desperate need for belief runs in yours.”
Gabriel winced. Her assessment rang with truth. But now, more than ever, he wished it did not. Gazing back at her, he couldn’t help the wonderings that sprang to mind at the sight of Megan’s stiff, proud posture. She looked ready to fly at him like a Fury. He had little doubt she would, at the least provocation, if the offense was directed at those she stayed loyal to.
What would it be like to be faced with the mounting evidence of a father’s betrayal, as she was, and still come to his defense? What would it be like to know he was wrong, and still aid him?
Which of those had Megan practiced—and was practicing still?
“Sometimes he wins with the money, and doubles my share,” she went on. “Sometimes papa merely brings back the same amount. Doubtless there have been times when I didn’t realize it was missing at all.”
“Doubtless there have been times when he returned nothing.”
“Yes.” She pushed to her feet and paced beyond the firelight’s reach, to a shadowy corner of the room. “I’m afraid this might be one of those times.”
To Gabriel, her fear seemed entirely reasonable—and entirely unnecessary. On chilly bare feet he rose as well, driven by a need to stay close to her. That need pushed at him, as intense as the anger that had begun to pulse within him at her first mention of Joseph Kearney’s thievery. What kind of man would steal from his own daughter?
The kind of man who would turn and run from her as well, Gabriel realized. He hadn’t thought it was possible to dislike Kearney more than he did. Now, he knew it was.
Megan—trusting, loving, quick-witted enough to keep a man at arm’s length or bring him near with just a few well-said words—seemed helpless in the face of her father’s maneuverings. She deserved better. She deserved the truth. She deserved a means to put aside Kearney’s failings, and get on with a life of her own.
In all his operative’s dealings, Gabriel had seen many men like Kearney—men who would cast aside their family and friends for the tumble of dice or the slick whisper of cards being dealt. Hell. He’d grown up with his scrawny boy’s arm slung around a man who abandoned all he had for the numbing sweetness of a lighted opium pipe. Gabriel held close no illusions about the goodness of humanity…or of family.
But that didn’t mean he wanted to see Meg’s belief destroyed.
He stopped just behind her at the partly opened balcony doors. In the semi-darkness there, the lace curtains trembled as Megan sifted her fingers through them. Watching her, Gabriel felt his belly tighten, growing taut with the desire to feel those fingers on his bare skin instead.
Her touch looked delicate, shaky. Gabriel longed to restore the steadiness to Megan’s touch, and to her smile—but before he could, she needed to face the truth.
“And if he does lose it?” he asked. “What then, Meg, if the money for your shop is gambled away before you can stop your father?”
Her fingers plucked the lace into twin knots. Her voice was a broken whisper. “I don’t know.”
“What if he’s stolen your chance at a future? What then?”
Megan’s shoulders rose beneath a shuddering breath. “I don’t know.”
Resolute, Gabriel hardened his words with a relentlessness that experience had taught him would gain results quickly. Harder still was ignoring the tear he glimpsed falling onto her outstretched hands.
“What will you do,” he continued, dragging his gaze away from the single drop that glistened in the moonlight shafting between the doors, “when Joseph is taken for his crimes, and you’re left alone?”
“I don’t know. But I do know he is innocent!”
With a vicious yank, Megan parted the glass doors wider. Cool, earth-scented air rushed inside to ruffle her skirts. It tossed her hair into wild silken strands, and scrubbed her anguished face with the late-night chill. Washed in the moonlight’s shimmer, she stepped onto the balcony.
Gabriel watched her swipe fresh tears from her eyes, and cursed himself for the man who had brought them.
“Perhaps he is innocent,” he said, following her outside. He brought his hands to her shoulders, wanting to wrap his arms fully around her instead…but knowing too well how unwelcome his embrace would be now. “But you are innocent to be certain!”
Her shoulders lowered, then rose as she grasped the iron balcony rail and gazed over the city. “Am I?”
Even so quietly voiced as it was, Megan’s question ripped through him. Did she mean to make a confession?
Did he care if she did?
Putting aside his damnable thoughts, Gabriel bent his head. He rested his chin on her shoulder and looked over the shadowed rooftops and snaking streets spread before them. Somewhere out there, his quarry awaited. Somewhere out there, Pinkerton operatives were trailing Joseph Kearney and the express shipment they’d been dispatched to find.
But Gabriel had no desire to be with them.
“Am I innocent?” Megan leaned back slightly, her long hair spreading over his shoulder like a dark caress, and aimed her question toward the starry skies above them. “You don’t believe I am.”
“What I believe doesn’t matter.”
Able to resist no longer, Gabriel pulled her into his arms. As though he could keep her there with nothing but brute strength and the force of his will, he held her within his grasp tightly. He savored the wondrous curve of her backside pressed against him…felt the soft, brave welcoming of her hands clasping his forearms below her breasts, and wanted nothing more than to remain this close to her until dawn broke.
And beyond.
“All that matters is what’s true,” he said. “It’s true that I feel I’m where I belong when I hold you, Meg. And I’d vow you feel the same.”
Dreamily, she eased herself nearer, nestling close against him. “Oh, Gabriel. How I want to believe you.”
“Then do it.” He nudged aside the glossy curtain of her hair and pressed a kiss to the curve of her shoulder. Just as he’d imagined, she tasted of woman and warmth, her sweetness underlaid with hints of coconut and clean dress starch. “Delicious,” he murmured.
“Hmmm?” Megan tilted her head, craning to see his face. “I might have sworn you said ‘suspicious.’”
Her guess described her troubled expression perfectly. Never had she seemed more wary of him…or more hungry to believe. Gabriel squeezed her fondly and said, “You misheard me. I said you were delicious.”
“Bosh!” With a chortle of disbelief, Megan shoved away and whirled to face him. “Never in my life has a man—”
“I’m not those men.” Gently, he pressed his thumb to her lips, sealing them closed against the protest he recognized in her spirited dark eyes. “I’m not any of those men who were blind to your beauty and your fire and your bright, infuriating mind.”
She scoffed, raising her brows with an expression that said he’d have a piece of her dratted infuriating mind the very minute he took his hand from her lips. Instead, Gabriel traced over the soft heat he’d found, savoring the plump textures of her mouth beneath his thumb, and surrendered yet another piece of his heart.
“I’m not like them, sugar,” he said. “I’m not a fool.”
He bent, captured her lips with his. The first meeting of their mouths made him groan…called forth an answering murmur from Megan. The union that follo
wed stopped his thoughts altogether.
God, but this woman felt like everything he’d ever wanted. Tasted like all he’d ever needed. Breathless with hunger, Gabriel swept his tongue against hers, driving his hand in her hair to keep her still. He wanted, wanted…and every moment felt himself balanced on the edge of losing her forever.
Too soon, she ended the kiss. Saying nothing, her eyes luminous, Megan stared up at him. Her gaze dropped to his arms at her waist and she frowned, as though puzzling over finding herself still held so closely. When she looked up again, the doubt in her expression vexed him beyond all reason. At that moment, Gabriel would have given all he had to see it vanished from her face.
“Ahhh, Meg,” he murmured, smiling over his irresistible, fruitless urge to nudge an answering smile onto her features. “Believe me, and let’s go on from here. Believe that I want you. I’ve never said truer words.”
She shook her head. “You don’t even know me.”
“I know all I need to. You’re loving and loyal—”
“To a man you despise!”
“—stubborn and clever—”
“Ha! You’re angry I’ve bested you!” she interrupted, looking relieved to have found familiar territory between them.
Gabriel refused to let her claim it. “You have a passing fine way with a lady’s bonnet,” he went on, grinning widely at the memory of her various overladen hats, “and a kiss that could blow a man’s boots straight off.”
Her gaze jerked toward his bare feet, curling against the cold balcony stones, then upward. Megan narrowed her eyes. “You did that yourself!”
Laughing, he gathered her closely again. “True. It was in anticipation that I did it, hoping you might kiss me.”
“You said you did it for the sake of equality between us,” she protested.
But Meg snuggled against him nevertheless. The feel of her slender arms wrapped tentatively around his middle was something he knew he’d remember a lifetime.
Or at least until he’d urged her to hold him in another, more intimate way. The same anticipation he’d spoken of before surged through him at the thought.
“Equality. Of course,” Gabriel said, feeling uncommonly lighthearted. He lifted his hand to his shirt buttons and worked the topmost one free, then set to task on the next. With surprise, he found himself delighting in teasing her—and in wondering where that teasing might end.
“I’m still for having equality between us,” he went on as he unbuttoned, giving her a wink. “In fact, I’d like to equalize things even further.”
“Gabriel!” Megan gasped and playfully swatted his hand away. “After you went to such trouble tonight to keep me warm and dry, I’ll not have you catching a chill yourself, just to bait me.”
“Hmmm. I had hoped to tempt you.”
Her breath caught. When she turned her forlorn gaze to his, he saw that he had tempted her…and that she still feared to reach for what she desired.
“How can you want me?” she cried suddenly, her voice stumbling hoarsely over the words. True to the woman she was, Megan got them said in spite of it. “How can you—handsome, brilliant—” She churned her arm as though dredging a reluctant compliment from a well brimful with them. “—aggravatingly determined you—want me? How, when—when—”
“I do, Meg.”
“—when my own mother did not, and my papa can’t seem to abide the mere sight of me these days?” Anguish cracked her voice and brought fresh tears to her eyes. “They don’t want me, Gabriel. Neither has anyone else, save Addie, and she’s just as lonely as me.”
He longed to tug her close again. To love away her fears and her sadness, if she would let him. One look at Megan’s tight-clenched fists and faraway eyes warned him not to try.
Not yet.
Fiercely, she stared up at him, determined to have her say. “You seem to think I have dozens of beaus. Dozens!” Her choked laughter mocked the very idea. “I’ll tell you truly, that I’ve never had one. Not one that lasted. And do you know why?”
“Meg—”
She wrenched away from his outstretched arms and faced him with her demand for his answer plain to see.
Gabriel had nothing to give. He’d teased her over her scores of beaus because he’d been sure she’d had them. Looking at her now, he still felt sure. Damnation! Megan must have had suitors chasing after her from the first day she batted those damned eyes of hers at some poor boy in short pants in the schoolyard. Was he supposed to believe differently now?
He could not. No matter how she battered him with her tears and her reckless determination.
“Do you know why?” she demanded again.
At a loss for a reply, Gabriel remained silent. She answered herself instead, with a recrimination it pained him to see.
“They didn’t want me because they saw the truth about me, just like my mother did. Just like her blasted sharper of a traveling salesman did. Just like my papa does now. So why don’t you see it, too?”
She wept, at an end to her words—and maybe her new-fashioned trust in him, too. Gabriel reached for her hand with shaky fingers, and twined their fingers together as closely as he yearned to join their bodies. He squeezed.
“I’m sorry, Meg,” he said quietly. “I can’t see it, and I won’t tell you that I do. There’s nothing in you that I don’t want to keep with me, for all the days we have left.”
Her tremulous, beautiful gaze lifted to his. “Do you mean it?” she whispered.
Gabriel grinned. “It’s beyond vexing to admit it,” he said, “especially to a woman who challenges me at every devilish turn. But I see only goodness in you. Only that. And I’ve never meant anything I’ve said more.”
“Oh.”
Her small exclamation came from Megan with obvious surprise. She tried to step back, bumped against the balcony rail behind her, and halted. Everything about her seemed softened somehow, gentled with a new vulnerability Gabriel hadn’t glimpsed in her before. He liked it. He liked the woman behind it.
“Except that I want you,” he said, tilting her face up in the cradle of his hands. He stroked his thumbs over her cheeks, delighting in the softness of her skin—and in the unsteady smile he felt beneath his palms. “I mean that just as much.”
And his kiss was meant to convey it. He covered her mouth with his, and felt gladness fill him. Never had he craved the taste of a woman like he did Megan. Never had he needed more than he did now. Leisurely, Gabriel stroked his tongue over hers, nibbled tenderly at her lower lip, kissed the tilting edges of her mouth…and then began the process anew.
“Ahhh, Meg.” Breathing heavily, he pulled away at last. He rested his forehead against hers and looked into her eyes. “This feels beyond dangerous between us. I should go, before you regret I ever came back for you tonight.”
“Don’t go!” Megan grasped his hand, holding it joined with hers against her shoulder. Biting her lip, she looked up at him. “Not yet. Will—will you promise me something?”
Let my papa go free. What other vow could she wish for? Bitterness hardened his expression when he gazed back at her.
“What is it?”
She pattered her fingers over his hand, like a person seeking a word lost just on the tip of their tongue. She rose on tiptoes. She took a deep breath. Just as he was about to demand that Megan say the pledge she requested, she spoke.
“When you feel that you want to leave me,” she said, fixing her gaze on the curtains shifting in the breeze at the balcony doors behind them, “would you promise me…promise me that you’ll let me leave first? At least then I might have the illusion of—”
“What? Meg—”
“—the illusion of not being left behind.”
Her lonesome eyes betrayed the one word she’d left unsaid.
Again. Left behind again.
Gabriel ached to realize how deeply she’d been hurt. How deeply wounded Megan felt even now. He reached for her, wanting to prove the world wasn’t populated with people lik
e her father, a man to be depended upon only for reliable thievery and flight, and her mother, a woman who’d shown her daughter much of the same. His hand touched her neck, the sweep of her jaw. With a helpless sound of empathy, he cradled her face in his palm.
Megan jerked her chin upward, out of his reach. “It won’t be at issue much longer.”
“No?” Feeling bereft, Gabriel fisted his empty hands and summoned a patience born of new understanding. “Why not?”
“Because soon it won’t matter who leav—I mean, what anyone else does around me. I’ll be snug in my new dressmaker’s shop, with business to spare and no time to waste wondering over what other people do.”
“Or why they can’t be counted on?”
She gave him a sharp look. “You think you read me so well.”
“Don’t I?”
“If you did, you would see the truth in me.” The words were as blunt as Megan’s eyes were tear-filled and wary. “Do you give me your promise, or not?”
“My promise to have you be the first to leave?”
She nodded.
That she would request it at all pained Gabriel deeply. “Yes,” he said, seeing no other choice. He’d simply hold off on their leave-taking for as long as possible. “Will you tell me what happened with your mother?”
With evident surprise, she looked up. He saw her fingers curl around the balcony railing, and wished it was him she held so closely.
“I want to know you, Meg.”
And then hunt down the people who hurt you. He couldn’t, not really—at least not in the way he meant it—but the idea held a certain bloodthirsty appeal Gabriel could not deny. The protective, male part of him yearned to see Megan avenged. Needed to be sure his woman was safe.
Not that he would ever hurt a woman, Gabriel knew. He would never come to claim Megan’s mother, for instance. But with her father still within reach….
Megan shrugged. Her casual gesture fooled him not a bit. This mattered to her. Because of it, it mattered to him as well.
“I did promise, didn’t I?” she asked, sniffling back the last of her tears.
“You did.” He pulled her closer.