She shouldn’t feel such joy at his words, she knew. His tone was desolate, as if he truly were lost.
“I just want to protect you. To lock you up and keep you safe, and I know I can’t do that,” he said.
“You have to let me fight my own battles. It’s what the crown pays me to do, and it’s what I’m good at.”
“I’m so used to taking care of everyone I care about.”
“I know.”
He looked at her from beneath half-closed lids, his head resting against the chair. She placed her hands on either side of his head, hemming him in, but he didn’t seem to mind.
He sat forward, nuzzling his nose in the hollow of her neck. She dropped her head back, her body clenching in fierce need. He had told her that she was like a fever in his blood, but he was the same with her. She couldn’t get enough of him. She wanted him every hour of every day. Not only for the lovemaking but for the companionship. In Venice they had talked and laughed, been serious and silly, and she missed that. She’d never had that with another person and had yearned for it when he left her.
His hands cupped her buttocks, kneading her with strong fingers that moved over her hips and her sides, pushing her shirt up so that his fingers touched bare skin prickling with goose bumps.
He touched her breasts, bare of any corset, covered only in a thin chemise. She gasped, her eyes drifting closed as he pinched her nipples, rolling them between his fingers.
“Sei bella,” he whispered. You are beautiful.
She took his face between her hands and kissed him, rising up until she was kneeling over him. His hands continued their exploration until she was nearly squirming with need. The seam of her breeches rubbed against her womanhood, driving her wild.
“Touch me,” she begged. “Per favore.”
He yanked her shirt and chemise over her head. Before they’d even landed behind her, his hands were everywhere, touching her, stroking her.
Still kissing him, she unbuttoned his breeches. “Lift up,” she said.
He obliged and she shoved his breeches over his hips. His erection sprang up. Desperate to touch him, she used both hands, making him groan and arch his back.
“Yes, yes, yes,” he whispered.
With shaking hands, she unbuttoned her own breeches and stood long enough to push them down her legs and kick them off.
He grabbed her around the waist and positioned her above him, thrusting upward until he entered her. They both cried out, a primal cry that echoed through the dark room.
For long moments they sat like that, connected both physically and emotionally, their eyes closed. She was putting this moment to memory so she could pull it out in the dark hours of the lonely nights when she yearned for companionship. When she yearned for Sebastian.
She moved and he grunted. Pressing the heels of her hands into his shoulders to keep him still, she took command, raising and lowering herself over his stiff erection. He clenched his teeth and closed his eyes. His fingers dug into the arms of the chair. “Damn, Gabby. Don’t stop.”
She was panting, a light sheen of sweat covering her. All she could do was grunt with each thrust that drove her closer and closer to the edge and to a shattering completion. It was coming fast, and she knew it would be like none that she’d ever experienced. She couldn’t have stopped if she’d wanted to. She pushed down onto him, impaling herself and grinding herself into him as she threw back her head and cried out. At the same time Sebastian shoved his hips up into her and groaned as warm liquid spurted into her.
She collapsed against him, breathing hard, boneless. He wound his arms around her to cradle her to his sweaty chest. Beneath her ear, his heart hammered.
“Hell,” he said softly.
Hell was right. When they made love, something magical happened. Something that had never happened to her when she’d coupled with other men. Those times she kept her emotions in check, her thoughts to herself. The very essence of Gabrielle Marciano was not touched by the other men.
But Sebastian was different. He touched her soul every time they made love.
Hell.
She pushed away from him and reached for her breeches.
“Stay,” he said, grabbing for her hand.
She shook her head as she pulled her hand away and stepped into her breeches. “We both know that’s not a good idea.”
“To hell with good ideas. Stay, Gabby.”
She wanted to. Oh, how she wanted to. She wanted nothing more than to curl up next to his heat, to feel his arm draped around her and listen to him breathe throughout the night, but that was such a bad idea for so many reasons.
She pulled her chemise and shirt over her head. “We’ve been down this path before, and it didn’t end well. I’m not sure my heart could handle a second go-round.”
He was watching her, the faint light of the few candles highlighting the rippled muscles in his stomach, the broad expanse of his chest and shoulders. The fact that he didn’t have a response was all she needed to reach for the boots she’d kicked off.
“Stay anyway,” he said. “Just one night.”
“I can’t do one night. I want more, and that’s not possible.” She looked away and blew out a breath. With him, she wanted it all, and she felt ridiculous for wanting something she knew she couldn’t have. He was an earl who would someday return to his estates and his responsibilities. She was a woman with no past and an unknown future.
“So stay more than one night.”
“And then what? How many nights are enough, Sebastian? One? Three? Five? The longer I stay, the harder it will be to leave, and we both know I have to leave.”
His silence told her everything she needed to know. He agreed with her. He wanted her to stay, but what about the future? What happened when duty called and he needed a wife and heir? Where did that leave her? She wasn’t any man’s mistress. She’d worked hard to avoid that.
She sat on the edge of the bed and tugged on her boots. “We need to meet with Atwater in a few hours.”
Sebastian’s head fell back against the chair and he sighed, looking at her as she stomped her heel into her boot.
She walked to the door, but before she opened it, she turned to look back. All that firelight played with his body. Her fingers tingled. She wanted more of him, but she was afraid that if she walked back to him, if she made love to him, if she stayed the night, she would lose an important part of herself, and she couldn’t afford to do that.
“Don’t be angry at the Office,” she said softly. “They’ve given me far more than I could ever repay, and I will always be grateful for everything they’ve done for me.”
Chapter 16
Gabrielle and Sebastian stood side by side in front of Atwater’s desk. The carriage ride hadn’t been as awkward as she’d thought, mainly because Sebastian had slept the entire way over. His eyes were red-rimmed and bloodshot, indicating exactly what he’d been doing while Atwater was trying to find him.
Gabrielle’s body still tingled. Her breasts were tender from their coupling, and the evidence of what they had done was fresh and warm between her legs.
“I trust you are well, Claybrook?” Atwater glared at Sebastian.
“Yes, sir.” Even though Sebastian outranked Atwater in aristocratic titles, in this room Atwater ruled supreme and commanded the deserving title of “sir.”
“I trust your absence was an emergency.”
Sebastian remained silent.
“I see.” Atwater looked at the papers in his hands. “I received a missive from our agent in Scotland regarding Grant McFadden. He’s laird of Clan McFadden. Or what used to be Clan McFadden before the clans were outlawed. He fought alongside his father in the uprising of ’45, in which his father was killed and Grant became the new laird. His fiancée was killed in the uprising by English soldiers passing through.” Atwater lowered the paper and rubbed his eyes. “She was raped, then murdered.” He dropped his hand and stared into the distance for a time.
Gabri
elle shifted. She’d heard of the horrible things some of the English troops had done to those who fought against England. Burning their land, their homes, their crops. Rumors had circulated that some of the more undisciplined troops had raped and pillaged.
“McFadden abandoned his clan and roamed the countryside for a few years, staging small uprisings here and there. He proudly wore his kilt, which is against the law,” Atwater said.
“Damn,” Sebastian muttered. “You almost can’t blame the man.”
“No,” Atwater said. “Nevertheless, he is a threat to our nation and should be thought of as such. His sister is trying to keep their people together, but it’s a losing battle. Their land is all but destroyed, and they are starving.”
Such a sad tale, Gabrielle thought. If only Grant McFadden had stayed in Scotland and taken care of those who needed him instead of running off to avenge his betrothed.
Atwater turned his attention to her. “Tell me about Wilcott. Why would he want to kidnap you in the middle of a ball, of all places?”
“I have no idea. He came to me a few days before and asked me to…” She glanced at Sebastian. “To become his mistress.”
Sebastian stiffened but remained silent.
“I told him no, of course. However, it became obvious that he wouldn’t take no for an answer. There was a desperation about him that put me on edge. I’m not sure what I said to warrant his confession, but he told me he is in desperate straits. His mother is pressuring him to marry, but he is in love with someone who is…unacceptable.”
Atwater looked at her sharply. “Unacceptable?”
“He is in love with another man.”
“Ah.” Atwater folded his hands on his desk.
“I’m wondering if McFadden heard that Seb—er, Claybrook—and I were asking questions. He would have ferreted out the weakest link of the aristocracy, that being Wilcott, and threatened him with his devastating secret.”
“Wilcott’s description of the man is similar to the descriptions we’ve received of McFadden,” Sebastian said.
“I think we can safely assume that the man who threatened Wilcott is Grant McFadden,” Atwater said.
“I have put men on Wilcott. They are watching his house and following him,” Sebastian said. “So far he’s done nothing out of the ordinary.”
“Very well. Until McFadden makes his next move, we seem to be at an impasse,” Atwater said.
“I can speak to Phin Lockwood. He may have heard something,” Sebastian said.
Atwater nodded and collected his papers. “Keep me informed.”
Gabrielle and Sebastian took that as their cue to leave.
“Do you think Phin will have heard anything new?” Gabrielle asked when they reached the street.
“I have no idea,” Sebastian said as he handed her up into the carriage. “But I can try.”
The ride home was silent, all the awkwardness they’d avoided on the way to Atwater’s in full force. Sebastian looked out one window while Gabrielle looked out the other.
“We’re supposed to attend the Covington ball tonight. Are we still going?” she asked when the carriage pulled up to her townhouse.
“I don’t see why we should. We know Wilcott is the traitor. Our job is finished there.”
Gabrielle nodded, both relieved and bereft that the case was coming to a close. Their time together was almost over. As soon as they had McFadden in custody, she would ask Atwater for some time off and return to Venice to lick her wounds and retreat from society to recover from yet another encounter with Sebastian.
Sebastian walked her to the door but stopped her before she entered. “Gabrielle.”
So they were back to Gabrielle. No more Gabby. Another loss.
“About earlier—”
She shook her head and pressed her finger to his lips. They stared at each other for long, painful heartbeats. His bloodshot eyes were filled with regret. A regret that left her heart shattered.
She removed her finger, stepped through the door, and closed it.
—
Sebastian settled into a chair at his club and opened the newspaper. Since his meeting with Atwater three days ago, the last day he’d seen Gabrielle, he’d taken to avoiding his home, where thoughts of Gabrielle followed him from room to room. He’d spent the majority of his time at the club, but it didn’t help. His thoughts and memories refused to be left at home.
He wanted her with a desperation that bordered on obsession. Every hour—hell, every minute—he forced himself to stay away from her. He knew he’d hurt her when he asked her to continue as they were—making love without the benefit of marriage or any sort of commitment. The pain in her eyes had cut him to the quick. All he’d done was confirm her belief that she wasn’t good enough for anyone, when that was far from the truth.
He snapped the newspaper open and tried to concentrate on the headlines, but the topics that once intrigued him now held no interest. Visions of her sitting naked on top of him were far more interesting than toll fees.
He sighed and put the paper down to rub his eyes. This was exactly why he needed to stay away from her. She consumed his thoughts, invaded his day, intruded on the things he needed to accomplish. She was all he thought about. How was he supposed to conduct the business of the earldom? Or concentrate on his case?
Admittedly the case was at a standstill. McFadden hadn’t been seen in days. Sebastian’s men were still following Wilcott, who was doing nothing out of the ordinary. Phin had his ear to the ground for rumors, but nothing was happening.
And so here Sebastian sat, thinking of Gabrielle, yearning for Gabrielle. Damn, damn, damn.
After his parents’ death, Sebastian’s life had spun out of control. At the age of sixteen, he was suddenly in charge of a vast earldom that encompassed several estates, along with the tenants and servants. Not to mention a younger brother and sister who mourned their parents as much as he did.
For months he’d been bombarded with so many decisions, he’d been paralyzed. His father had been in the process of training him to become the next earl, but he wasn’t nearly as ready as he should have been. It had taken almost a year for him to learn the role and another year to become comfortable in it. He’d learned that in order to succeed, he had to wield an iron fist. His determination and single-mindedness had healed Nicholas when he’d been almost fatally wounded. It had increased the profit of his lands and his tenants’ lives. Nearly everything that entered his orbit, he controlled with a fanaticism that bordered on manic.
Except for Gabrielle.
She refused to bend to his demands. Refused to conform to the role he had assigned her. She didn’t need him, not like the other people in his life did, and that both confused and irritated him.
When he thought about who his perfect mate would be, it wasn’t an exotic-looking Italian-speaking ex-pickpocket from Seven Dials who lived by her own rules. It was a biddable woman who knew her place in his life and his world. Who would be there when he needed her and entertain herself when he didn’t.
Lord, but that sounded harsh and unfeeling. And nothing at all that he wanted now that Gabrielle had entered his world. So, it all boiled down to one thing. Did he want her forever? Or was he willing to give her up for the comfort and safety of the world he’d built around himself?
“Lord Claybrook.”
Sebastian opened his eyes to find Wilcott standing before him, looking very nervous.
“I, uh, would like to speak to you.”
“Very well.” Sebastian motioned to the empty chair opposite him.
“Not here. It’s of a private nature. Would you come to my home?”
“Have you heard from our mutual friend? Is that what this is about?”
Wilcott’s gaze darted around, and he licked his lips. “I have. I’ve learned some things.”
Sebastian contemplated Wilcott for several moments. “Forgive me for being rude, Wilcott, but after your performance with Lady Marciano the other night, I hesitate to st
ep foot inside your home.”
Wilcott winced.
“There are private rooms here where we can meet.”
Wilcott seemed to think about that before nodding. “Very well. I have a meeting I can’t postpone. Shall we meet in, say, an hour?”
“An hour, then.” It wasn’t as if he had anything else to do tonight; hell, he even missed the excruciatingly boring balls. Although they’d been less excruciating with Gabrielle on his arm.
Sebastian enjoyed a quiet dinner and one glass of whiskey while whittling away the time before Wilcott returned. He tried like hell to not think of Gabrielle, but as it had the past three days, his mind had other notions.
He was just finishing up his dinner when a servant from the club approached his table. “A message has arrived for you, my lord.”
Sebastian took the folded piece of paper off the silver tray and opened it.
I have new information. Please come at once. Time is of the essence.
—G
Sebastian folded the paper and put it in his pocket as he stood. “I am to meet Lord Wilcott here shortly. Please inform him that something has come up and I will be a bit late.”
“Very well, my lord.”
Sebastian hurried out and flagged down his carriage. What had Gabrielle learned that required his immediate presence? Did she have an encounter with McFadden? Good Lord, but the thought made his blood run cold.
“To Lady Marciano’s with all due haste,” he called up to the driver before stepping up into the carriage.
A shadow detached from the darker shadows of the interior of the carriage. Sebastian stiffened in alarm, but it was too late. The shadow swung, and pain exploded in Sebastian’s head before everything went black.
Chapter 17
Gabrielle had attempted to relax the past few days, reading books she’d wanted to read but hadn’t had time for, walking in the garden her gardeners spent so much time keeping beautiful.
It was the fourth morning since she and Sebastian had parted at her front door. Four days thinking of him, wondering what he would have said if she hadn’t silenced him on her front stoop. Damn it, she hadn’t wanted to hear excuses and reasons that they couldn’t be together. She hadn’t wanted the pain of hearing him say there was no harm in carrying on as they had been.
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