Gabriel's Honor

by Barbara Mccauley

  The tension was always there between them. It hung in the air, heavy and thick, and at times it felt like a fist closing around him. She felt it, too, he was certain of that. Ever since the night of the storm, when he’d kissed her—and she’d kissed him back—there’d been an unmistakable understanding between them: He wanted her, and she wanted him, too.

  All the more reason to keep his distance from her. He’d made a promise, dammit, and he’d keep it, but that didn’t mean he had to like it.

  But the frustration he felt wasn’t just physical, he knew. She’d made it clear she would be leaving any day now. He still didn’t know who she was running from, or what, and the thought of her and Kevin in any kind of danger was twisting his insides into knots. He’d hoped by now she’d trust him enough to confide in him, even a little, but she hadn’t, and it was driving him crazy.

  He edged his way closer to the open window of the bedroom she was in and leaned against the frame, watching her. She stood in front of a dresser bureau with her back to him, sorting through some things in a drawer. The snug fit of her jeans offered him an enticing view of her very nicely rounded rear end, and when she turned slightly, he couldn’t help but notice the curve of her breasts under the plum-colored T-shirt she wore.

  His palms itched just looking at her.

  He knew that Kevin was taking his afternoon nap in the bedroom next door, and that nothing short of a bomb could wake the boy up. In the past three days, even with all the pounding and sanding and the spray gun motor running, Kevin hadn’t stirred once during his naps. When it was time to sleep, the kid slept.

  Unlike himself, Gabe thought irritably. He hadn’t slept one decent night since he’d met Melanie. Every morning his sheets were tangled, damp with his sweat over the erotic, explicit dreams he’d have about her. Dreams that left him raw and aching. Not to mention downright cranky.

  She bent over, opened a bottom drawer on the dresser, and his throat turned to dust at the view. She started to move her hips to the tune of her song. With a mind of its own, his body responded. His heart slammed in his chest, blood drained from the upper regions directly to the lower regions.

  Oh, dear Lord. Sweat poured from his forehead.

  Dammit, he was no better than some sleazy Peeping Tom, he thought, and started to back away.

  That’s when she shrieked.

  Not a loud shriek, but enough to startle him. He lost his footing on the steep, gabled roof and started to slip. Rather than go down, he lurched his body forward and tumbled through the open window, fell flat on his face with a thwack on the floor.

  Eyes wide, Melanie whirled and shrieked again.

  Good Lord, he thought, trying to ignore the wave of pain radiating up from his jaw to the top of his head. The way he was going, he would be in a body cast any day now.

  “Gabe!” Melanie rushed across the room and knelt beside him. “Gabe, are you all right?”

  With a groan, he pushed himself over onto his back and stared up at the brass ceiling fan, watching the blades spin round and round. Sort of like his head.

  “Fine. I’m fine.” He moved his jaw back and forth, decided it wasn’t broken. The only thing he’d really hurt was his pride, but, hey, that was no little thing.

  When he started to push himself up on his elbows, she laid her hands on his chest and eased him back down.

  “Stay still a minute,” she said gently. Worry furrowed her brow. “What happened?”

  “I was sanding the window frames on the upstairs bedrooms.” He hardly thought it best to tell her he’d been snooping on her. “When I heard you yell, I just…slipped.”

  “But I didn’t yell until after you—oh! Oh, yes, I guess I did.” Her eyes widened as she remembered. “Oh, Gabe, you have to see this. It’s so wonderful!”

  She rushed back over to the dresser, and he’d barely had time to sit before she was back, kneeling beside him, holding a small white box in her hands.

  “This is just one of several boxes I found today. They’re Chinese, probably eighteenth century. Hand-carved ivory. From an inscription on one of the boxes, it seems that they were a gift to Mildred’s grandfather, who was a sea merchant.” She flipped open the lid. “Mildred kept her jewelry inside.”

  She pulled a cameo brooch out of the box and laid it gently in the palm of her hand. “The initials on this piece, E.W., match her grandmother’s, Eleanor Witherspoon. I found a family tree in Mildred’s Bible.”

  Her voice had that same breathless quality as when she’d discovered that lamp and desk the other day. Gabe watched her fingertips caress the cameo, and the tightness he’d felt in the southern regions of his body before he’d stumbled into the bedroom returned with an intensity that had him clenching his teeth.

  “There’s a gold wedding band in here also, dated 1820,” she went on, oblivious to the direction his mind had taken, “plus a beautiful ruby-and-diamond ring and a spectacular amethyst necklace, Victorian design. Jewelry isn’t my specialty, but Simon will know. He’s the best. Oh, Gabe, I can’t wait to tell Cara. It’s just too good to be true!”

  She’d laid one hand on his arm and leaned toward him. He was trying to pay attention to what she was saying, honestly he was. But she was just so damn beautiful all fired up like this, her cheeks flushed, her eyes bright with excitement. He couldn’t take his eyes off her mouth, and the sweet scent of her drifted over him like a silken net.

  It was all he could do not to drag her into his arms, to roll her soft body under his and taste that incredible mouth of hers, to skim his hands down every luscious curve.

  He glanced down at her hand clutching his forearm, then said tightly, “Melanie, unless you want me to break the promise I made you, you might not want to touch me right now.”

  She went still, then looked at her hand, realized that she was holding on to his arm. Surprised, she glanced back up at him. The look of excitement in her gray eyes turned darkly sensual, and when her gaze dropped to his mouth, his heart leaped at the sexual awareness shimmering between them.

  To his profound disappointment, she dropped her hand and leaned away from him. “I—I’m sorry.” Her fingers were shaking as she placed the jewelry back into the box. “I—I didn’t, I mean, I wasn’t—”

  When she started to stand, he reached out and took hold of her hand, pulled her back down. He wanted her here, beside him, if only for another minute.

  “Who’s Simon?” he asked, remembering the name she’d mentioned a moment ago.

  Her shoulders relaxed a bit, and she sat back on her feet. “Simon Grill, the auctioneer. He’s brilliant. He not only knows antiques like nobody’s business, but he also knows how to get the highest bid from the floor.”

  “You already hired him?”

  “Cara did, and sent out the invitations, too. The dealers will be salivating over Mildred’s estate.” She paused, listened to the sound of the painters working with the spray gun at the back of the house. With a sigh, she turned back to him and met his gaze. “Gabe, I won’t be here for the auction. I can’t be.”

  In spite of the desire still humming in his veins, he wanted her to just talk to him, to trust him with even the tiniest bit of information about her life. He dragged in a lungful of air, then released it. “Because someone might know you?”

  “Yes.”

  Gabe knew he should let go of Melanie’s hand, but he couldn’t bring himself to break even this small contact. “You could stay out of sight.”

  She smiled, shook her head. “You don’t understand. I couldn’t. I’d have to be in the middle of everything.” Her smile faded as she glanced down at his hand on hers. “It would be…risky.”

  He told himself he should be content with just this little confidence, but he wasn’t, dammit. He was more frustrated than ever. He wanted to ask more questions, bully her if he had to. Whatever it took to get her to tell him everything.

  But he knew that tactic hadn’t worked before and would only end up pushing her away. He didn’t want to dis
turb this moment, possibly the first real moment that she’d let her guard down even a little bit.

  They needed a neutral ground, he thought. A harmless conversation that she would be comfortable with.

  “When I was in the seventh grade,” he said, skimming his thumb lightly over the back of Melanie’s hand, “everyone in my class had to draw the name of an elderly person in town, then do four hours’ worth of chores for that person. I drew Old Lady Witherspoon.”

  Melanie arched one brow, waited for him to continue.

  “My first day, when I showed up at her door, she looked down her glasses at me, frowned, then pointed to a rake and told me to clean up the leaves and not to bother her again until I was done. She never even asked my name.” He smiled at the memory. “After four hours, I wasn’t even close to being finished, but I was too damn scared of her not to keep at it. It was after dark before I bagged up the last of those damn leaves. When I finally knocked on the front door, she opened the door a crack and said, ‘Are you done?’ and I said, ‘Yes, ma’am.”’

  When he paused, Melanie leaned forward. “What did she do?”

  “She said, ‘Well, fine then,’ and slammed the door in my face.”

  Melanie’s eyes opened wide. “She didn’t!”

  “’Fraid so. I complained about it so much when I got home, my mom told me to go do something else for Miss Witherspoon, something that nobody told me to do. I admit, I sure didn’t want to do anything for her after that, but I finally gave in to my mother’s prodding. I went back the next day and knocked on her door, then handed her a single yellow rose I’d picked from my mom’s garden.”

  Melanie’s hand tightened in Gabe’s. Outside, Gabe heard the painters laughing and the loud whir of the spray gun.

  “Well,” Melanie said impatiently, leaning so close he could smell the flowery scent of her shampoo. “What did she do?”

  “She took it and slammed the door in my face.”

  Eyes wide, Melanie gasped then sat back and laughed. The sound rippled through Gabe, and he found himself laughing, as well.

  “It’s no wonder she never married,” Gabe said. “Lord only knows what she would have done to anyone who’d have dared kiss her. Probably bury them under all that corn growing in her back field.”

  Melanie laughed again, then quieted as she glanced back down at their joined hands. “What about you, Gabe?” she asked quietly. “Were you ever married?”

  He lifted one shoulder, shook his head. “My parents were killed in a car accident when I was twenty-four. With three younger brothers and a sister to watch out for, marriage wasn’t something I was thinking about. By the time Cara graduated college, I was busy with the business.”

  “And now?” she asked.

  “The responsibility of one family was enough for me,” he said with a shrug, then grinned. “Now I’m just going to sit back and let my brothers and sister handle the family progeny.”

  Melanie glanced down at the cameo still in her hand, turned it around in her fingers. “I’d say that pretty redhead at the tavern the other night had other ideas.”

  “Sheila?” Gabe raised one brow, surprised that Melanie even remembered the woman. “Sheila’s just a…friend.”

  She looked up, the disbelief evident in her gray eyes. “Oh?”

  He shifted uncomfortably. That night at the tavern, Sheila had wanted him to stop by her house, and her innuendos that she’d wanted to do more than “talk” had not been subtle. As frustrated as he’d been feeling since he’d met Melanie, he’d almost considered the redhead’s offer.

  But he hadn’t, of course. Going to bed with Sheila might have momentarily eased a physical discomfort, but it wouldn’t have been fair to her. Gabe knew that the redhead might have been in his arms, but Melanie would have been in his mind.

  “We used to date for a while,” he said with a shrug. “Nothing serious.”

  One side of Melanie’s mouth curved up, and she tilted her head. “I think Sheila might disagree with you on that. She had the look, Gabe, and it was definitely focused on you.”

  “Yeah? What look is that?”

  She thought for a moment. “Like she’s a boa constrictor and you’re a big, juicy rat.”

  Gabe grimaced. “Gosh, thanks for the image.”

  She smiled at him. “It’s also a look that says, ‘He’s mine, girls, touch him and you die.”’

  He stared into Melanie’s eyes, watched the soft gray turn dark and smoky, and Gabe thought if he didn’t touch her he might die.

  “All that in a look, huh?” he said lightly, though his voice was strained. “What else?”

  Her smile faded, and her voice lowered. “It’s a look that says you’re everything she’s ever hoped for, all she would ever want.”

  His heart slammed in his chest. “No kidding.”

  “There’s a longing in that look,” she said wistfully. “A need that is razor sharp. It could melt steel.”

  He didn’t know about steel, but the look in Melanie’s eyes right now was certainly turning his body into a raging fire. A man could only stand so much torture, he thought, gritting his teeth.

  She leaned close, and her gaze dropped to his mouth. “Gabe,” she said breathlessly. “What’s happening between us?”

  “Hell if I know.” He took her chin in his hand, ran his thumb over the smooth line of her jaw. “I made a promise to you, Melanie, but I’m only human. You’ve got to tell me what you want.”

  Something flickered in her eyes. Desire, yes, but something else. Resignation. Dammit, he wanted her willing and eager, not submissive. The woman who’d fought like a wildcat when he’d tackled her in the dark, the woman who’d slammed him in the chest with a frying pan, that woman was no quitter.

  The thought was like ice water over him. Because as much as he wanted to touch her right now, to kiss her, he knew that it would only push her away from him more. She’d realize that she’d given in at a weak moment and would regret it, would hate him and probably herself, too. And there was something else here more important than the moment. Damn if he knew what it was, but he felt it in his gut.

  He sighed heavily, then rolled away from her and stood, raking both hands through his hair as he faced her. “I’ve got to finish sanding these windows. The painters will be moving to the front of the house in a little while.”

  She nodded, then lifted her gaze to his. “I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I wish things could be different.”

  “They can be. Let me help you.”

  “I can’t.”

  “You mean won’t.”

  She closed her eyes on a sigh, opened them again. “Please, Gabe, I don’t want to argue with you.”

  Because he would have liked nothing better, Gabe knew it was time to leave before he said something he would be sorry for. He started for the window, then stopped.

  Oh what the hell, he thought. He’d already said plenty he was sorry for. What was one more thing? He turned back to her.

  “Sooner or later, whatever or whoever you’re running from is going to catch up to you,” he said tightly. “Then you’re going to have to trust somebody. I just hope like hell it won’t be too late.”

  He climbed out the window and made his way back to the ladder crushing several of the brittle shingles under his boots. Dammit, anyway, why did everything have to be so complicated with this woman?

  Well, he’d had enough. Whether she wanted it or not, whether she liked it or not, he was going to help her.

  He climbed down the ladder, muttering curses with every step. Walking away from the house until he was certain he was out of earshot, he pulled his cell phone out of his shirt pocket and punched the buttons.

  “It’s Gabe.” He looked back at the house, watched the curtains flutter in the upstairs bedroom. “I need to talk to you.”

  Chapter 7

  “I can’t believe this.” Cara’s fingers stroked a delicate sapphire filigree brooch, then quickly moved to a matching pair of earrings. “All
this beautiful jewelry, and not once do I remember Mildred Witherspoon even wearing a ring. How could she let all these things just sit in these boxes?”

  Melanie had just finished going through the last carved ivory box a few minutes ago when Cara had arrived with Ian. Rings and bracelets, earrings and necklaces, plus several brooches covered the top of the antique dresser, all laid out to be individually tagged and labeled.

  Kevin suddenly tore into the room, making flying noises as he held his Caped Crusader action figure up high in one hand. He dashed around Cara, zoomed to the window, then back across the room where he made a flying leap out the door and headed into the next bedroom where he’d set up his pretend city.

  Shaking her head, Melanie smiled at her son’s antics, then turned back to the dresser and took in the display of exquisite antique jewelry. “This is all worth a great deal of money. It’s possible that she worried about theft.”

  “Maybe,” Cara said thoughtfully. “But Bloomfield County is hardly known for its criminal element, unless you count my brothers, of course. Oh!” With a gasp, Cara scooped up a bracelet fashioned out of interlinking silver roses and leaves. “I adore this!”

  “Here, try it on.” Melanie fastened it on Cara’s wrist. “It looks wonderful on you.”

  “I just might have to bid on this one myself.” Cara gazed longingly at the bracelet, then she sighed and took it off. “How ’bout you, Mel? Which piece is your favorite?”

  “This one.” Melanie picked up the cameo brooch she had been holding earlier when she’d nearly kissed Gabe. It felt warm in her hand, and she could swear she felt her fingertips tingle. She thought of his strong, firm mouth, the masculine scent of his skin, the heat of his body so close to hers…