Gabriel's Fate

by Craig, Emma

  “Let’s visit the ready-made dress department,” she suggested. She’d found the garters and had the underthings, and they were both beautiful and alluring. Now she had to get an outer garment that would inspire Gabriel with the irresistible urge to remove it. She was going to distract him with sex. Then, when he was sated and sleepy, she’d sneak off and rid the world of Ivo Hardwick.

  Offhand, she couldn’t imagine why she hadn’t had this brilliant idea sooner, although it probably had something to do with her innate sense of honor. What she aimed to do was definitely dishonorable, although Sophie comforted herself with the knowledge that it was for a good cause. Besides, this was the first method she’d come up with for distracting Gabriel, and Sophie felt sure he’d fall for it. He’d never tried to hide his desire to debauch her; he was now going to get his chance.

  A faint, faint echo of the voice of rational thought tried to assert itself by telling Sophie she was playing with fire, but she thrust it angrily aside. Of course, there were dangers to this course of action. There were dangers attached to almost anything one did in this life.

  “I don’t believe I’ve ever been in a ready-made dress department before,” Juniper ventured, staring about with fascination. “My goodness, I do hope these department stores won’t put all the seamstresses in America out of business.”

  Frowning at the seams of a dress, Sophie said, “I don’t think they will. Not if all of the goods are this shoddily made.” She showed Juniper the offending seam, and Juniper tutted appropriately.

  Not all of the costumes for sale at the Broadway were shoddy, however. There were plenty of lovely gowns to choose from, in a variety of styles and fabrics, from day dresses to wrappers to walking costumes to evening wear. Sophie knew exactly what she was looking for, and she almost found it. The dress she ultimately selected differed from her mental image in only one important detail: the neckline wasn’t as low as Sophie had hoped for. It was plenty low enough for Juniper, who appeared a good deal shocked by Sophie’s selection.

  “Don’t worry, Aunt Juniper,” Sophie said with what she hoped was a reassuring smile. “I know exactly what I’m doing.”

  Juniper shook her head uneasily. “I hope so, dear.”

  So did Sophie.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Sophie was up to something. Gabriel didn’t know what it was, but he figured it was something he wouldn’t like. She’d never, in the weeks he’d known her, flirted with him. Tonight, she was flirting like a dance hall queen.

  Gabriel kind of liked it. He’d have liked it a lot more if he believed she meant it.

  Or maybe she did mean it. How far would Sophie go to distract him from his avowed purpose of thwarting her intention to kill Ivo Hardwick? If he knew why she wanted to kill Hardwick, he might have an answer to that question. In the meantime, he knew she was plotting, but he didn’t know what, or how far she intended to go.

  He was not, however, a man who’d turn down dessert when it was offered, even if he expected to get a stomachache from it. And, if Sophie aimed to take her flirtation to its logical—to him—conclusion, he’d partake, no matter how much he suffered for it later.

  “You look good enough to eat tonight, Sophie.” Gabriel had already assisted Juniper into the waiting carriage, and was now holding his arm out for Sophie. Tybalt had been left in the hotel room. Gabriel had brought him a nice steak bone to keep him company during the long evening. Sophie had gone so far as to kiss him on the cheek in thanks.

  Now she took his arm and gave him a flirty look out of the corner of her glorious eyes. The dress she wore was one Gabriel had never seen before. A deep forest-green satin, it brought out the color of her eyes with a vengeance. If ever a woman was crafted for the mystical arts, Sophie looked the part this evening. Bewitching, is what she was. Gabriel wanted to rip that dress off her right this minute and spend the rest of his life naked with her.

  Silly Gabriel.

  Still, she was up to something. And, while he didn’t know what it was, and probably wouldn’t like it when he found out, he figured he might as well take advantage of it. He knew he’d pay later, and Gabriel never played without paying.

  “Thank you, Gabriel. I’m glad you approve.”

  “Sophie bought that dress at the Broadway Department Store today, Gabriel,” Juniper offered happily. “It’s ready-made. I didn’t think I’d like ready-made clothes, but some of them are really quite nice and well made.”

  “This one certainly is,” he agreed, ogling Sophie in a manner he figured she’d hate.

  She didn’t take the bait. Rather, she gave him an enigmatic smile and said, “Thank you.”

  Eyeing her niece with a trace of uncertainty, Juniper went on, “You don’t think it’s too low-cut, do you, Gabriel? We shouldn’t want to shock our patrons.”

  “I’m sure it isn’t,” Sophie said, a trifle crisply.

  “It doesn’t look too low-cut to me.” In fact, Gabriel would like to see his Sophie in greater décolletage, if he were doing the picking out of gowns for her. She had a substantial bosom, after all. Might as well show it off. He helped Dmitri into the carriage and climbed in behind him. Dmitri had had the common sense to sit beside Juniper, so Gabriel took his place beside Sophie. She didn’t move farther away from him, which was most unlike her. Interesting behavior on her part. Gabriel’s cynical antennae, already up, quivered with intrigue.

  As the carriage rumbled off, carrying its passengers to an address on Bunker Hill, he made an effort to keep the conversation alive. “So, what do you ladies do during a séance? Do you try to get in touch with spirits from beyond this life?”

  “Sophie acts as the medium,” Juniper said, “And I contact the Other Side.”

  “Does it always work?” In spite of Flying Hawk and the spirit board, he didn’t believe in spirits from beyond communicating with the living any more than he believed in elves and fairies. He’d come to value Miss Juniper too much to ridicule the work she believed in so wholeheartedly, however. Sophie smiled at him, which made his effort to restrain his disbelief worthwhile.

  “Not always,” admitted Juniper. “It depends on how sincere the people asking are regarding making contact. Often people think of séances as a mere game.”

  “I see.” Made perfect sense to Gabriel.

  “If we don’t make contact,” Sophie went on, taking over for her aunt, “we still give them a show. Read palms, look into the crystal ball, that sort of thing.”

  Gabriel pursed his lips. “I thought you didn’t believe in the occult, Sophie.”

  “I don’t really believe in making contact with spirits from beyond the grave—the Other Side, as Aunt Juniper calls it—although I know there are phenomena in life that are beyond our mortal ken.” Her smile was faintly wintry. “However, I know which side my bread is buttered on. I never mock the clients.”

  “Sophie,” murmured Juniper, unhappily.

  “I beg your pardon, Aunt.”

  Good God. Gabriel had never heard the wench apologize to Juniper for anything. She was certainly up to something.

  “Well,” said Gabriel in an effort to settle the atmosphere, which had become somewhat bumpy, “I’m looking forward to this séance. I must admit I’ve been curious about them.”

  “I’m sure you’ll find it interesting,” opined Juniper.

  “Fascinating,” Sophie agreed, and her tone of voice grated on Gabriel’s nerves.

  It was clear to Gabriel that Sophie didn’t believe in anything that she and her aunt did. Not really—not with conviction or strength of purpose. She was contemptuous of their work and treated it lightly, as if she were ashamed of, and embarrassed by, it. This evening, for some reason, he wished she did believe in what he’d come to think of as Aunt Juniper’s calling, as the ministry had been his father’s. He wanted Sophie to have some sort of consoling belief system, to have some kind of refuge from the pain of the world.

  He wasn’t accustomed to thinking of Sophie Madrigal as a mere mortal w
oman who needed support and solace but, tough as she was, she did. Hell, everybody did. Even he, Gabriel Caine, cynic extraordinaire and hardened man of the world, could use a soft bosom to rest his weary head upon every now and then. Actually, he’d like to use Sophie’s soft bosom for any number of reasons and for any number of purposes.

  Besides, Sophie wasn’t near as tough as she tried to make people think she was. With a pang, Gabriel recalled the episode with “Amazing Grace.” He still wished he knew what terrible memories had caused her reaction. And he was still itching with curiosity about the little boy Joshua. He’d spent hours in conjecture, and would be willing to venture a guess at this point, but he’d like to hear the truth from Sophie’s mouth. For some reason unknown to him—and deplored by him—he wanted Sophie’s trust.

  And, if he couldn’t earn her trust, he’d sure as the devil like to have her body. Eyeing Sophie out of the corner of his eye, he wondered if his latter desire would be fulfilled tonight. He hoped so, no matter how much he doubted it.

  He sighed, pondering the evening ahead of him. He was in for more frustration, probably. He was too honest with himself to believe Sophie’s flirtatiousness was aimed at any sort of consummation. She’d been avoiding him ever since they met; he didn’t imagine for a minute that she’d suddenly decided she was madly in love with him and wanted to share his bed. Not a chance.

  Still and all, she was up to something.

  He got itchy, contemplating what it might be.

  Silence prevailed in the cab for several long minutes. All parties peered out the windows with great curiosity, and Gabriel was glad they were in Los Angeles in the summertime when daylight lingered. The City of Angels was something to see. The temperate climate of Southern California evidently drew a variety of people. He saw folks who looked to him like Mexican peasants rubbing elbows with elegantly clad ladies and gentlemen strolling along as if they had nothing better to do in life but take the air of a balmy summer’s evening.

  “Merciful heavens, will you look at that mansion,” Juniper cried when the cab turned a corner and the horse began pulling them up a steep hill.

  “My word,” murmured Sophie, sounding genuinely impressed, “It’s—huge. And beautiful.”

  “There’s more than one of them, too,” added Gabriel as the cab drew them farther along the street climbing Bunker Hill. “Looks like your séance is going to be held in a mighty fashionable neighborhood, ladies, if this is Bunker Hill.”

  “I should say so.”

  Dmitri said nothing, but glared at the street as if he disapproved of such conspicuous displays of wealth. Gabriel grinned inside when he discovered himself chalking up the little man’s attitude to his being a Russian. Maybe some of Juniper’s fanciful ideas were rubbing off on him.

  A few minutes later, the cab turned right, entering a drive that looked as if it aimed to go on forever. The cabby stopped at a huge wrought-iron gate and was approached by a uniformed man, who had been guarding it. Gabriel wondered if his services were really needed, or if a liveried guard was only another ostentatious manifestation of this particular Californian’s wealth. Whatever his function, he opened the gate as soon as Dmitri told him who was in the cab, and the cab horse trotted them down a twisting drive.

  “What do you suppose those trees are?” Juniper asked at one point. “Don’t they smell queer, though?”

  “I rather like the smell,” said Sophie.

  “I read somewhere,” said Gabriel, “that somebody’s been importing trees from Australia. I wonder if these are eucalyptus trees.”

  “Australia,” murmured Juniper.

  “Really?” Sophie gave him a quizzical glance.

  Sweet Lord have mercy, if she was only toying with him, Gabriel wasn’t sure he’d survive the night. He wanted her so badly by this time, he ached with unfulfilled lust.

  “That’s what I’ve read.”

  “My goodness.” Sophie leaned forward so she could get a better look at the tall trees. Doing so thrust her bosom up, and Gabriel had to swallow a groan of frustration. “It must be nice to be wealthy and to be able to import Australian trees if you feel like it.”

  “Oh, my, yes.” Juniper giggled, as if she considered such talk as part of a game.

  Gabriel didn’t think Sophie thought it was a game. The better he got to know her, the better he realized that much, if not most, of her life was spent in doing things she cared nothing about, or even actively hated. A niggling sense of compassion began to fight for space with his overwhelming lust. Lord, when had this happened?

  He could understand the lust part. Just looking at her tonight, in that new dress of hers, brought out the beast in him. Her skin was always lovely. Tonight, with goodly portions of her chest and arms exposed, she was ravishing. The dark green of her gown made her skin look pearly.

  Damn, Gabriel wanted her. He tried with limited success to tamp his desires. If she followed through with her flirtations, he might get those desires fulfilled yet—although he wondered what torturous price Sophie would exact from him. As much as he hated to admit it to himself, whatever her price, he was willing to pay it. And more, probably.

  And if that wasn’t a lowering admission as to how far and how hard he’d fallen for Sophie Madrigal, he didn’t know what was.

  The eucalyptus trees gave way to a path lined with deodars, and Juniper seemed unable to do anything more than shake her head and stare in wonder. Sophie wasn’t so impaired. “Good Lord, these people must have more money than God. We ought to have charged them more than we did.”

  “Sophie!” Juniper was scandalized.

  Gabriel wished he could paddle Sophie’s perfectly splendid rump. He didn’t understand why she seemed compelled to say things to shock Miss Juniper.

  To her credit, Sophie said, “I’m sorry, Juniper. I didn’t really mean it to sound so callous.”

  She did, too. Gabriel knew it, and he knew Sophie knew he knew it when she glanced at him, then turned away quickly, flushing as she did so. Damn. If she didn’t stop looking so tasty, Gabriel feared he might perish from unrequited lust.

  “Well,” said Juniper, as if she’d given the matter serious thought, “actually, you may be right, Sophie. I mean, why shouldn’t people who can afford it pay more than those who can’t?” Her glance slid between Sophie and Gabriel as if she felt guilty for having voiced so revolutionary an idea.

  Gabriel smiled at her. “I think you’re right, Miss Juniper. Why not, indeed?”

  Sophie nodded. “Yes. After all, the more we soak rich people, the more poor folks we can help for less.”

  Gabriel poked her with his elbow to get her to stop being so spiteful. Sophie merely turned her head and scowled at him. He felt as though nothing had changed—and never would—between himself and Sophie, and the idea made him feel empty, unless that was hunger gnawing at his innards.

  Juniper, however, all but glowed at her niece, completely missing the sarcasm in Sophie’s comment. “Exactly!”

  The conversation mercifully ended when the cab drew up at a massive, pillared porch. The cab’s passengers stared at the house connected with the porch for a moment, speechless.

  “I don’t believe we’ve ever worked in such a grand home. Can you think of any venue to rival this, Sophie?”

  “No. I think this is the highest we’ve climbed so far.”Again, her tone was acerbic.

  “These folks spared no expense when they built, that’s for sure,” Gabriel ventured. He’d seen people from all walks of life in his day and wasn’t usually impressed by great shows of wealth, but these westerners really liked to put on an exhibition.

  “I wonder if it has to do with the climate,” Sophie muttered.

  Gabriel grinned. “Maybe. Or maybe if you make your own fortune, say, in gold or railroads, you tend to be of a more expansive disposition than if you inherited your wealth from your forebears, as so many easterners have done.”

  “Easy come, easy go?”

  He chuckled. “Well, not e
xactly.”

  Sophie heaved a big sigh as she stepped out of the carriage. “I wish my forebears had left me money instead of occult powers. Money is so much more useful.”

  “Sophie!”

  Sophie said primly, “I’m sorry, Aunt Juniper.”

  “You should be,” grumbled Gabriel.

  Dmitri, as was his custom, spoke not a word, but led the way up the steps of the gigantic front porch and up to the gigantic door of the gigantic house, a white stuccoed monster with an alarming excess of rococo decorations set all over the place. Plaster lions greeted them at the door, plaster gargoyles grimaced at them from the roof, and plaster flowers frolicked up the columns supporting the porch’s roof.

  Gabriel glanced around with interest. “I’m glad we got here while there’s still daylight. I’d hate to have missed this.”

  “Oh, I agree, Gabriel,” Juniper whispered as if she were intimidated by the grand surroundings.

  Not so Sophie. “And I. Florid excess is so interesting.”Without a pause, she twisted the doorbell. She did it hard, too, as if she wasn’t going to kowtow to anybody, no matter how much money they had.

  It occurred to Gabriel that one of the reasons he admired her, aside from her overt feminine charms, was that she had a world of fight in her. The quality was irritating as hell sometimes, but overall he’d rather a woman have guts than the timidity and reserve so admired in females by the general run of society.

  A uniformed footman opened the door and bowed them in. Gabriel heard a titter of voices, and a couple of excited exclamations. Before the footman had finished taking their wraps, a small, beautifully dressed woman darted out of a room and hurried toward them with her hands outstretched. “Oh, my goodness, are you the Madrigals?” Her eyes were bright and dark, and reminded Gabriel of the eyes of an eagle. Predatory, is what they were.

  Sophie smiled a splendid smile and bowed slightly. “Yes, indeed. And you’re Mrs. Millhouse?” She shook the woman’s hand as if she were a queen greeting a commoner who’d said something witty. Gabriel was as impressed as hell.