“Here and there.”
“And that motto carved over the door. Audeo. Is that the traditional motto of the earls of Wylde?”
“It is now,” Gabriel said.
Phoebe looked up sharply. “You mean you invented it yourself?”
“Yes.”
She smiled, vastly pleased. “It means ‘I dare,’ does it not?”
“Yes.”
“I must say it is a perfect motto for you, my lord.”
“I believe it suits you, too, madam,” Gabriel said deliberately.
Phoebe glowed. “Do you really think so?”
“Yes.”
“That is very flattering, my lord.” She chuckled. “But I had the impression that you were not quite so pleased with my daring earlier today. Do you know, I rather thought you were going to be extremely unpleasant about the whole thing. Well, that business is all behind us now, is it not?”
Gabriel sent the butler and the footman from the room with a small nod. When the door closed behind them, he leaned back in his chair and picked up his wineglass.
“About that business, Phoebe,” he said quietly.
“Yes, my lord?” She seemed suddenly very occupied with her veal pie.
Gabriel hesitated, remembering the thoughts that had tormented him as he chased after Phoebe. “I am not really as bad as Kilbourne, you know.”
Phoebe’s fork paused halfway to her mouth. She slowly lowered it. “That was unkind of me. Of course you are not as bad as Kilbourne. I would never have married you if I thought you were as nasty as he is.”
“You might have been forced to marry him if he had succeeded in carrying you off.” Gabriel heard the edge on his own words, but he could not keep it out of his voice. Every time he thought of Kilbourne attempting to kidnap Phoebe, he went cold inside.
“I would not have married Kilbourne, regardless of whether or not he had kidnapped me,” Phoebe said with a tiny shudder. “I would have preferred to live the rest of my life as a recluse in disgrace.”
“Your family would have insisted that you marry him.”
“They might have insisted, but I would never have agreed.”
Gabriel narrowed his eyes. “You tried to avoid marriage to me, but you did not succeed.”
Phoebe blushed and looked down at her plate. “I did not try very hard, my lord.”
Gabriel’s fingers tightened on his wineglass. “You ran away from me, Phoebe.”
“Only because I wanted some time to think. I did not like the way everyone seemed to be making decisions for me. But by the time the wheel broke on the stage, I knew I had made a mistake.”
“What convinced you that you had made a mistake?”
Phoebe toyed with her food. Then she looked up and her eyes met his. “I realized I was not opposed to the notion of marriage to you.”
“Why not?”
“I think you know the answer to that, my lord.”
He smiled whimsically. “Let me guess. You married me in order to acquire access to the contents of my library?”
Phoebe’s eyes lit with amusement. “Not entirely, my lord, although now that you mention it, I must admit your library is one of your most interesting assets.”
Gabriel pushed aside his plate and folded his arms on the table. “Did you marry me because you want to experience more of what you felt that night in Brantley’s maze?”
Phoebe turned pink. “As I said at the time, that was very pleasant, my lord, but I would not have married for the sole purpose of repeating the experience.”
“Then why did you marry me?”
Phoebe took a very large swallow of wine. She set the glass down with a small touch of defiance. “Because I am extremely fond of you, my lord. As you very well know.”
“Fond of me?”
“Yes.” She fiddled with her fork.
“Are you more fond of me than you were of Neil Baxter?”
Phoebe frowned. “Of course. Neil was very kind to me and he was interested in medieval literature. But the truth is that I did not love him. He was never more than a friend as far as I was concerned. That is one of the reasons I feel so guilty about his fate, you see. After all, he left England because he was determined to find a way to win my hand.”
“Phoebe, your father paid Baxter a handsome sum to leave England,” Gabriel said bluntly. “That’s the reason Baxter went off to the South Seas. His courtship of you was a ploy to get money out of your family.
Phoebe did not move. Her eyes widened in bewildered distress. “I do not believe you.”
“Then ask your father.” Gabriel took a swallow of wine. “Clarington was the one who told me the truth. He was trying to buy me off at the time and rather casually mentioned that the technique had worked on Baxter.”
“My father never said anything about paying Neil to leave England.”
“Your father was no doubt attempting to protect your feelings,” Gabriel said gruffly. “He probably knew you would be hurt if you discovered Baxter had never had any honorable intentions toward you. Of course poor Clarington does not know you’ve been on a quest to find the man you think killed Baxter. If your father had known that, he might have told you the full truth.”
Phoebe’s eyes were full of stunned shock. “Are you certain of this?”
“Absolutely certain. Baxter used you to get money out of your family. That was his only interest in you. He deserved everything he got out there in the South Seas.”
“But for an entire year I have felt terrible because I believed he went out there to make his fortune so that he could continue to woo me. He called himself my Lancelot. He claimed he wished to serve me forever. I would always be his Lady in the Tower.”
“You need no longer feel any guilt on account of Baxter,” Gabriel said. “Forget him.”
“Finding his killer has been my quest for months.”
“Forget the damn quest.”
“I feel as though I have been living in an illusion,” Phoebe whispered. “If what you say is true, I have wasted so much time. So much energy. So much emotion.”
“Forget him, Phoebe.”
Phoebe’s ringers trembled as she folded her napkin and placed it carefully on the table. “Such a mistake makes one question one’s judgment.”
Gabriel shrugged. “We all make mistakes when it comes to matters of that sort. Hell, even I made a similar mistake eight years ago when I tried to run off with your sister.”
“Yes, you did, didn’t you? And now I have risked a great deal by marrying you.”
He did not care for the strange expression in her eyes. “Phoebe, I only told you the truth so that you could put your silly quest behind you. I do not fancy being married to a woman who is bent on tracking down a killer. Very inconvenient.”
“I see.” She looked at him. “You knew the truth about Neil almost from the start?”
He hesitated. “Your father told me about him shortly after I arrived in London.”
“Yet you led me to believe you were helping me on my quest. How long would you have let me go on believing that your intentions were honorable, sir?”
“My intentions were honorable. Eventually.” Too late Gabriel saw the trap he had set for himself. “Phoebe, I can explain everything.”
Phoebe stood up. “I do not believe there is anything to explain, sir. You lied to me. You told me you were assisting me on my quest to find Neil’s killer. But you never had any intention of helping me find the pirate who murdered him, did you?”
Gabriel was trapped. He could hardly explain about his short-lived notions of vengeance. That news would only upset her further. “I did not lie to you.”
“Yes, you did. Tell me, why did you marry me?” she demanded, her eyes fierce.
“Because I think we shall suit each other very well.” Gabriel tried to make his tone reasonable and soothing. “Once you have settled down and stopped giving in to your reckless impulses, that is.”
“Reckless impulses? You mean like the reckles
s impulse that led me to marry you today?” Phoebe started around the edge of the table. “I assure you, my lord, I have certainly learned my lesson. I will not succumb to any further reckless impulses.”
Gabriel realized she was going to walk right out of the dining room. “Phoebe, come back here. I am talking to you.”
“You may finish the conversation by yourself. I doubt there is anything meaningful that I can contribute. You seem to have all the answers.”
“Damnation, Phoebe, I said come back here.”
“I do not wish to do so, my lord.”
“I am your husband,” Gabriel reminded her grimly. “And this is our wedding night. If you are finished with dinner, you may go upstairs. I shall join you shortly.”
She had her hand on the doorknob. Her eyes glittered with anger as she glanced back at him over her shoulder. “Forgive me, my lord, I am not in the mood to have any more illusions shattered tonight.”
Gabriel set his teeth as she slammed the door. Silence descended.
She would not dare lock her door against him tonight, he thought. She was his wife.
But even as he tried to reassure himself on that score, Gabriel knew Phoebe was quite capable of refusing to grant him his rights as a husband.
Hell, she was capable of almost anything.
An hour later he discovered that she had not locked her bedroom door. She was not even in her bedroom.
Gabriel tore the castle apart, looking for her. He finally realized she had retreated to the tower room he used as a study. She had locked herself inside.
Gabriel pounded on the door. “Phoebe, what the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“I am going to spend the night in here, Gabriel,” she called back. “I want to think. I must sort this all out for myself.”
Gabriel remembered the copy of The Lady in the Tower that was sitting in one of the bookcases. If she found it, she would probably never speak to him again.
She would never understand why it was in his possession. She would believe the worst. And in this case the worst was the simple truth. Lie had been responsible for Neil Baxter’s death.
Gabriel went cold at the thought of the impending disaster. That was when he discovered that he, too, was capable of almost anything.
Chapter 12
Phoebe lit the fire that had been laid on the hearth. Then she got to her feet and surveyed the small stone room in the light of the flames. She knew at once that this had to be Gabriel’s study.
She felt like a trespasser, but at the same time she was irresistibly intrigued by the knowledge that this room was so intimately connected to Gabriel. She could feel the heart and soul of him in here.
She had stumbled onto the tower room by accident when she had set out searching for a refuge. She had brought a pillow and a quilt with her because she fully intended to spend the night here. There had been no doubt in her mind but that Gabriel would try to exercise his marital rights tonight. He was, after all, a very sensual man. He was also not a man to ignore a clear challenge, and she had virtually issued him one.
It was always a mistake to issue a challenge to a knight-errant.
Perhaps if she had tried explaining herself to him, she might have avoided the confrontation, Phoebe thought. But it was too late now. The damage had been done. Besides, she had not been in a mood to explain anything. She had been too hurt and too angry—
When she thought of the months she had wasted feeling guilty because of Neil Baxter, she wanted to scream. Had he really lied to her? It was difficult to believe. Surely there was some explanation for what had happened.
When she thought of how Gabriel had tricked her into believing he was going to help her on her quest, she wanted to cry. Gabriel definitely had lied to her. That was what hurt the most.
Of course, if she were perfectly honest with herself, she had to admit she had kept him in the dark about one or two matters right from the start. Not that she had ever intended to mislead him, she thought. It had just sort of happened due to an unfortunate set of circumstances over which she’d had little control.
As far as she could determine, Gabriel had no such excuse. But perhaps he did not see it in that light.
It was all too much to deal with on top of everything else that had happened today. She needed time to reflect. Time to decide what to do next. Somehow she had to find a way to make her marriage work.
She sat down behind Gabriel’s desk. This was where he wrote, she realized. She felt oddly close to him as she sat there in the firelit room. She reached out to pick up one of his pens. He used these to create legends. The knowledge awed her.
A scraping sound outside the window jolted her out of her reverie. Startled, Phoebe dropped the pen and got to her feet. Her hand went to her throat when she heard the noise again.
It was not a tree branch rasping against the stone, she realized. This room was three stories off the ground and there were no trees outside the window.
The sliding, seraping sound came again. Phoebe swallowed uneasily. She did not believe in ghosts, she reminded herself. But this was a very old castle and it had certainly seen its share of violence and bloodshed.
There was a soft thud as a dark shape landed on the narrow ledge. A hand shoved hard against the window. Phoebe backed quickly toward the door, fumbling for the lock. Her mouth opened on a scream.
The tower window slammed open and Gabriel vaulted into the room. A long, thick rope drifted in the opening behind him. Phoebe realized it was suspended from the roof. She gazed at him in open-mouthed amazement and dawning horror.
“Good evening, madam wife.” Gabriel’s eyes glittered in the firelight as he coolly removed his gloves. He was not even breathing heavily. He had removed his jacket and cravat to make the descent. His white shirt was streaked with dirt and his boots were badly scuffed. “I suppose I should not be surprised to learn that your taste in wedding nights runs toward the bizarre.”
Phoebe finally found her voice. “Gabriel. You bloody idiot. My God, you could have been killed.”
She rushed past him and leaned out the window. The heavy rope dangled from high overhead. It was a very long way to the ground. Phoebe closed her eyes as terrible images appeared in her mind. She could easily visualize Gabriel’s body lying broken on the courtyard stones.
“I’m glad you have the fire going.” Gabriel held his hands out to the names. “It’s rather chilly out there tonight.”
Phoebe ducked her head back inside the window and whirled to face him. “You came down from the roof.”
He shrugged. “It was the only way. The door to this room appeared to be locked. An accident, no doubt.”
Phoebe lost her temper. “You risked your neck just to exercise your husbandly rights?” she yelled.
Gabriel’s eyes roved possessively over her. “I cannot think of a better reason.”
“Are you mad?” Phoebe wanted to throw something. “Of all the stupid, witless, brainless things to do. I cannot believe this. Have you no common sense?”
“That is a rather odd accusation, coming from you.”
“This is not funny. You could have been killed.”
He shrugged. “It was no worse than climbing a ship’s mast.”
“Good grief. ‘Tis a scene straight out of the tale of The Lady in the Tower.” Phoebe charged across the small space separating them and came to a halt directly in front of him. “You must never, ever do anything like this again, do you hear me?”
Gabriel’s eyes burned. He caught her face between his palms. “I will do it again if you run from me again.”
“Gabriel, you scared me to death. Every time I close my eyes I can see your body lying on the stones. You must not take such foolish chances.”
He cut off her protest with a quick, hard kiss. “Promise me you will never run from me again.”
She splayed her ringers on his chest and searched his harsh face. “I promise. Do you vow that you will never do anything so wickedly reckless again?”
Her lower lip trembled. “You must know that I do.”
“Then you will nor run off again or lock yourself away from me. Because if you do, I will come after you, even if it means descending a castle wall on a rope.”
“But Gabriel—”
“Even if it means climbing down into hell itself,” Gabriel vowed softly.
Phoebe felt her insides melt. “Oh, Gabriel … “
“Come here, my lady in the tower.” Gabriel pulled her closer against his hard body. His palm slid down her back, pressing her into the cradle of his muscled thighs.
When Phoebe made a tiny sound, Gabriel brought his mouth back down on hers in a kiss that scorched her from head to toe. Warmth welled up inside her. It was mingled with a sense of longing that was so acute it brought tears to her eyes. She lowered her lashes, twined her arms around his neck, and gave herself up to the heat.
“This is the way it was meant to be between us, my sweet,” Gabriel breathed. “I knew it from the first time I met you.”
“Did you really?” Phoebe could hardly stand now. She clung to him, touching her lips to the strong line of his jaw. She turned her head and kissed the inside of his wrist. “I have been afraid to hope that you might feel for me some of the things I have been feeling for you.”
He smiled against her cheek. “And precisely what have you been feeling for me?”
She shuddered against him. “I love you.”
“Ah, my sweet Phoebe.” His hands tightened on her, drawing her down onto the quilt she had spread on the carpet in front of the fire.
Phoebe felt the room whirl around her. Then she was lying on her back, her skirts foaming at her knees. She was aware of Gabriel stretching out beside her. His leg tangled with hers, urging her thighs apart, pinning her gently to the floor. When she opened her eyes, she found him gazing intently down into her face.
“Gabriel, I have done a great deal of thinking about this aspect of things.”
“Have you?” He brushed his mouth lingeringly over her lips, seeking a response.
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