Wilcott. He didn’t understand that man. He was almost puritan in his dress and his beliefs. Sebastian found it odd that he searched out Gabrielle’s company and she his. The last he had seen of the two, they’d been heading out the terrace doors.
When he managed to reach the terrace, there were a few couples in the shadows, stealing illicit kisses. Sebastian highly doubted Gabrielle and Wilcott were kissing, yet the thought set his blood on fire. The very idea of Gabrielle kissing anyone stirred his anger far more than it should. Obviously she’d done more than kiss other men, if the rumors were true. Hell, she’d been married long before she met Sebastian. Still, he pushed those thoughts from his mind and made sure to check out each couple, much to their embarrassment. None of them were Gabrielle and Wilcott.
Had Hendricks cornered her again? Had he trapped her somewhere she couldn’t escape? Sebastian found it highly unlikely that Gabrielle couldn’t get herself out of such a situation, but the thought of Hendricks touching Gabrielle sent him into a rage. Sebastian had to stop and consciously control his fury. If Hendricks had cornered Gabrielle again, he was dead. Sebastian didn’t care about the consequences.
A loud pop came from the shadows of the lawn, sounding suspiciously like a pistol shot. Sebastian’s heart nearly stopped. He ran down the steps, pulling his pistol from his boot as he ran toward the maze, praying he was headed in the right direction. He glanced behind, but the few people on the terrace were preoccupied with filing into the dining room.
There had been no other shot. No other noise. Not even a scream, and that terrified Sebastian more than he wanted to admit. He tried to tell himself that the shot had nothing to do with Gabrielle, but his mind wasn’t cooperating.
He reached the edge of the maze. Damn, but he hated these things. Hated being hemmed in on all sides. Hated not having an escape route. If this did have something to do with Gabrielle, why in the hell would she agree to go into a maze?
Unless she hadn’t agreed. Unless she’d been dragged in here against her will.
He stopped and held his breath to listen. He cocked his head and heard a scuffling on the other side of the foliage. Quietly he advanced until he saw two figures locked together. Not Hendricks and Gabrielle but Wilcott and Gabrielle. What the hell?
The moon’s light illuminated their weapons—Wilcott’s pistol, Gabrielle’s stiletto. Gabrielle was holding Wilcott’s arm up, and the pistol was pointed to the sky.
With his free hand, Wilcott swung, his fist connecting with Gabrielle’s cheek. Her head flew to the side, but she didn’t cry out. She pushed Wilcott away, impressing Sebastian with her strength. Wilcott stumbled back and dropped his pistol.
“Wilcott!” Sebastian called out, in the hope of giving Gabrielle the distraction she needed.
Wilcott glanced up, locked gazes with Sebastian, and paused. Gabrielle slashed with her stiletto. Wilcott cried out, clutching his side. His eyes widened and his hand came away covered in blood.
Gabrielle went in for the kill, the look on her face so fierce, so deadly, that it made even Sebastian pause. But Wilcott had had enough. He turned and ran into the darkness of the maze. Gabrielle picked up her skirts and followed, forcing Sebastian to follow, though there was no way to tell where Wilcott had gone. There were too many turns, and almost immediately they were standing at the intersection of four possible paths. Gabrielle was breathing hard, her stiletto held confidently in her hand.
“He’s gone,” he said.
“Damn. Damn, damn, damn.”
Sebastian didn’t flinch at Gabrielle’s profanity because he was silently repeating the same word.
Gabrielle turned to him, and Sebastian’s head spun as he stared at the blood seeping from a hole in the arm of her gown. “Damnation, Gabrielle, you’ve been shot.” He grabbed her arm below the elbow. Had the ball imbedded itself in her arm? Holy hell.
“I’m fine.”
“We need to get you to a surgeon.”
“No surgeon.” She glanced down at her arm, and her flushed cheeks turned white. She swayed. “Oh.” Sebastian grabbed her, but she shook him away. “Just a scratch.” She swallowed and swallowed again.
“You’re ready to pass out.”
“No. It’s just…I can look at other people’s blood, but mine…” She closed her eyes and breathed deep, then shook her head and opened her eyes. “Damn.”
Sebastian lifted her into his arms, swearing and cursing. Thank the Lord he remembered the way he had come. It didn’t take long for the house to appear in his sights. Gabrielle grabbed the lapel of his coat. “Not the house.”
“You need a surgeon.”
“No surgeon.”
“This is not the time to be bullheaded.”
“Take me home. Riggs can sew me up.”
“Riggs? Your butler?”
“No house. No surgeon.”
Sebastian sighed and changed direction to head around the side of the house. It wouldn’t do for everyone to see him carrying her away, anyway. Luckily, his carriage was nearby, and he loaded her into it, gathering her onto his lap as the coach merged into traffic.
“I’m perfectly capable of sitting on my own.”
He ignored her.
The constant flow of blood from her arm concerned him greatly. It was running down her arm, soaking into her gown. Her lips were nearly colorless and her eyes were drifting close.
“Stay with me, Gabby.”
A faint smile touched her mouth. “You called me Gabby.”
“Did I?”
“Mmm.” Her head lolled onto his shoulder.
She felt the same. She smelled the same. Hell and damnation, but he could feel himself sliding down that slippery slope he traveled down seven months ago.
Before he could make more of a fool of himself, the carriage pulled up to her townhouse. He gathered her to him and hopped out, yelling for Riggs as he ran up the steps. Riggs had the door open before Sebastian reached it.
“She’s been shot,” Sebastian said as Riggs trotted after him toward the drawing room. “She said you can sew her up.”
“Certainly, my lord. Let me fetch the sewing kit.”
Sewing kit? Bloody hell, how many times has she been shot?
Sebastian carefully lowered her onto the settee. Her head dropped to the side and her eyelids fluttered. Riggs entered with the sewing kit and knelt beside her to tear off her sleeve.
“Eliza is going to be angry you ruined my gown,” she mumbled through bloodless lips.
Sebastian rolled his eyes.
“Your gown was ruined when you were shot,” Riggs said without any deference. “Bring me the brandy.” It took a moment for Sebastian to realize that Riggs was speaking to him. “Over on the sideboard,” Riggs said with a tilt of his head.
Sebastian swallowed his surprise at the servant’s tone. Obviously Gabrielle allowed her servants more free rein with their speech than a normal person would.
He grabbed the brandy decanter and three glasses. He needed a drink himself. Gabrielle sure as hell needed a drink, and he wouldn’t be surprised if Riggs needed one as well.
Riggs grabbed the brandy from Sebastian with an absent “Thank you.” Sebastian refused to take offense because the man was stitching up Gabrielle.
Riggs poured a bit of the brandy on the bleeding wound. Gabrielle winced and groaned. Sebastian had been injured enough in his time to know that the brandy made her arm feel as if it were on fire. Admiration held him spellbound. Gabrielle never made a sound other than a low groan as Riggs began sewing. However, she did grab the brandy to take a few healthy swallows. The women Sebastian knew took small sips with a grimace after each. He’d never seen one swig the way Gabrielle did.
Gabrielle turned her head to smile at Sebastian as she clutched the brandy container.
“It’s okay to scream,” he said.
“It’s never okay to scream.”
He tilted his head toward her in silent agreement. He’d been stitched up in some tight situations, wh
ere one breath would alert the enemy. Obviously so had Gabrielle.
She drank steadily from the brandy bottle while Riggs worked on her arm.
“This one isn’t as bad as Madrid,” Riggs said.
“Or Geneva,” she muttered.
Riggs grunted.
“Just how many times have you been shot?” Sebastian asked.
Gabrielle wrinkled her brow in thought. “Three.”
“Four now,” Riggs said, cutting off the length of thread. He put away his supplies, clicked the kit closed, and looked at the wound closely before nodding and leaving the room.
Gabrielle sighed and turned on her good side to stare at Sebastian. She smiled, a goofy, loopy smile that had him grinning. “You’re drunk,” he observed.
“Tipsy.”
Sebastian went to the fireplace to stir the logs and give himself time to think. His blood was still humming from the fear coursing through him. Damn, but he’d never been so afraid, and that was precisely why he did not like working with a partner.
“Do you want me to help you to your bedchamber so you can sleep?” he finally asked.
“Sit with me. Talk to me.”
He scooted the chair closer to the settee and sat, taking her outstretched hand between his. Her fingers were small and delicate, but he couldn’t get it out of his mind how expertly she wielded a stiletto. There was strength in her, a strength he admired. But there was vulnerability as well. He’d seen it in Venice when she let down her guard while they were making love. A sadness in her eyes. Loneliness. He was having a difficult time combining the two Gabrielles.
“You’re awfully quiet,” she said.
“Just thinking.” He wouldn’t tell her what he was thinking. Instead he said, “So, Madrid and Geneva? Where was the third place?”
She shrugged. “Can’t remember.”
More than likely she remembered very well but wasn’t willing to tell him, which meant it had been a highly secretive operation. His anger stirred, but he forced it down. She was an operative through and through, keeping her secrets, just as he had to keep his. He couldn’t be angry about that.
“What happened out there, Gabrielle?”
She stared at the dancing flames in the fireplace. “Wilcott asked me to walk with him. He didn’t look well. I thought he was feeling ill, and I also needed a breath of fresh air after Hendricks. We walked to the maze.”
“Why would you go into a dark maze with someone?”
“He’s harmless.”
“Harmless doesn’t pull a pistol on you.”
Her brows puckered. “That’s what is so confusing about all of this.”
“What happened?”
“He said he was sorry and then he pulled the pistol.”
“Why?”
“I have no idea.”
“Do you think he’s our traitor?”
“Wilcott?” She thought for a moment. “No. He’s a very confused man, but I don’t think he’s dangerous.”
“Obviously he is dangerous.”
“I just don’t understand,” she whispered.
He squeezed her hand. “Rest for now. We’ll find the answer.” He would pay Wilcott a visit as soon as Gabrielle fell asleep. For now he was content to sit with her and hold her hand. This was the longest they’d been together without bickering, and he liked it. He didn’t like arguing with her, didn’t like holding her at a distance, even though it was necessary. He was fairly certain his heart would not survive another three days like Venice, but for now he was happy to sit here.
She unwound her fingers from his and touched his cheek. Sebastian wanted to close his eyes and press his cheek in to her palm, but he didn’t dare—although his body clamored for more and didn’t seem to care one bit that she was injured and drunk. He held himself very still and simply savored the feel of her hand on his cheek.
“Kiss me,” she whispered.
Chapter 12
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Sebastian said.
“Probably not, but kiss me anyway.”
“No.”
“What happened to you, Sebastian? You weren’t like this in Venice.”
“Venice was another time, another place.”
“Another person?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t believe that.”
“Don’t go there, Gabrielle.”
“Why?”
“Because you’ve been drinking.”
“You make me sound like a drunkard. My pain is dulled, but the rest of my senses aren’t, and my mind is perfectly fine. Why were you a different person then?”
“Because I was. That wasn’t the real me.”
“I think you keep the real you locked up tightly.”
“So now you read minds?”
“I don’t need to read minds to know that.”
“You’ve been shot, and you’re not thinking clearly.”
Her brows rose. “So now it’s because I’ve been shot and not the alcohol that isn’t making me think clearly?”
“You are turning my words around.”
“You’re not making sense, and you’re trying to change the subject, but that’s all right. I understand.”
He frowned, taken off guard by her choice of conversational topic and the fact that her mind was fully functioning on the amount of alcohol she had consumed. “What is there to understand?”
“Why didn’t you want to work with me?”
He shifted uncomfortably. “Now who’s changing the subject?”
“You’re trapped here by your need to take care of people. You’re too gallant to leave me to my pain and misery. I’m willing to take advantage of that, because normally you run away from me.”
“I don’t run away from you,” he said in disgust. “I’m a busy man. I have things to do.” His need to take care of people? What the hell was she talking about?
“Claire was right,” she murmured.
“What the hell has Claire to do with any of this?” He was going to throttle his sister the next time he saw her. She was a bothersome, meddlesome brat sometimes.
“She said you took others’ problems on your shoulders.”
Sebastian scoffed. “Claire would know. She’s been a problem since she started toddling.” Although he spoke the truth, his words were said with affection. He loved his sister and regretted many things that had happened to her. There had been times when he resented that he’d been thrust in the role of parent so young, but he wouldn’t have had it any other way. If there were one thing he regretted about their younger years, other than not being able to keep their parents alive, it was that he hadn’t done enough for Claire. He’d thought marrying her off would force her to grow up. He’d had no idea until recently how horrific her first marriage had been, and he would forever carry the guilt.
“Take me up to my bedchamber, Sebastian.”
“Of course.” He stood and lifted her from the settee, mindful of her injured arm.
“I can walk.”
“Humor me.”
“There it is.”
“There what is?” He paused while she turned the knob on the door.
“Your gallant behavior. A knight in shining armor.”
“I’m no knight in shining armor.”
“Mmm.”
The entryway was quiet. Apparently, having done his duty in sewing her up, Riggs had gone to bed. What a strange household Gabrielle ran.
“I sent the servants to bed for the night. No use staying up for me.”
“Your servants are interesting.”
She laughed softly, causing her breasts to brush against his chest and making his cock stand at attention. He was so hard so fast, he was nearly dizzy with it.
“My servants are cobbled together and hired for more than their domestic capabilities.”
“Let me guess: Riggs was hired for his ability to stitch you up.” He paused at the top of the steps and waited for Gabrielle to point in the right direction.
; “Partly. He came from the streets, just as I did. He’s a former pugilist, pickpocket, and thief.” She pointed to a closed door, and Sebastian once again waited for her to turn the knob.
He stepped into her bedchamber. Candles were lit and nearly half burnt down, so her maid must have also gone to bed for the night, which had him wondering just who was going to get Gabrielle out of her gown. His aching erection twitched; he had a very good idea who that person might be.
He gently laid her on the bed. She sat up to swing her legs over the side and grimaced, pulling her arm close. One sleeve was gone, that side of her dress stained with blood. The white bandage stood out starkly against her golden skin, and Sebastian was angered anew at what Wilcott had done to her. Despite that, she was beautiful. Her hair had fallen from its pins long ago and hung in a black sheath down her back, curling ever so slightly at the ends. Her eyes were large and luminous, and some color had returned to her lips and cheeks.
“Can you please unbutton my gown?”
Sebastian hesitated. He didn’t want to touch her because he knew what would happen. One touch and he would be lost. He was hanging on to his sanity by a thin thread that was quickly fraying. He clenched his fingers into tight fists, knowing that there was no turning back.
He knelt upon the bed and she turned to present her back to him. He took that waterfall of silky raven hair and gathered it in his hand to pull it over her shoulder and reveal her back. His hands shook as he slid the buttons through the buttonholes, revealing more and more of her slim back and the ridge of her spine. He watched his hand as if it were not a part of him. It brushed her neck, his fingers lightly grazing the delicate skin. Gabrielle stilled and her breath caught.
The very air seemed to have been sucked from the room. This was why he didn’t want to work with Gabrielle. This was why he had avoided her the past seven months and tried to keep his distance over the past several days. Because he couldn’t keep his hands off her. Because when he was around her, he lost all sense, all reason.
And yet he couldn’t find it in him to care right now, because more than anything, he wanted to feel the skin on her neck, her back, everywhere. He ached for her and admitted to himself that he’d been aching for her for seven months. The thought that he would finally relieve that ache was overwhelming.
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