“Our father is much happier when you’re here, brother.” Jamie paused and took a sip of his wine. “He’s agreed to my betrothal to Jane. The banns have been posted and we wed in a month’s time. Will you be here?”
“Of course.”
“What about you? When do you marry? With father’s illness, you aren’t getting any younger. Mother sent word you and Viscount Nesbith were in talks.”
Gabriel snorted. “Fortunately, I wasn’t the chosen one. Nesbith and his daughter wove a plot to trap Ashborne, including the kidnap of his intended bride. All’s well that ends well. Nesbith did the honorable thing and that vicious daughter of his now lives a more sedate life in a village near Durham.”
He raised his glass to his lips and drank deeply. “I doubt marriage is for me, Jamie. You and your offspring are my heirs.” He arched an eyebrow at Jamie’s stunned expression. “Please don’t share this tidbit with my stepmother. I prefer not to worry about assassins.”
“Have no fear on that, Gabriel,” Jamie said with a laugh. “Since Jane and I announced our betrothal, Mother declared she will remain in London until Father and I come to our senses. It has been so peaceful of late I suspect our father would have my head if I tried to break the betrothal.”
Gabriel sensed his brother’s curiosity. “What is it, Jamie? What do you want to ask me?”
“I’m not certain. I feel something is different with you, inside you. Usually, your visits are brief, several days. You’ve been here nearly a week and there’s a restlessness in you I’ve never seen.”
“Boredom, brother,” Gabriel drawled. “Just ordinary boredom.”
Jamie peered at his brother for a long minute. “Who is she?”
“Why do you suspect a woman?”
His brother shrugged.
Gabriel laughed. “Sorry my starry-eyed brother, my heart remains firmly my own. I’ve yet to meet the woman who has the power to claim it.”
The moment the words left his lips, Gabriel knew they were a lie. The bond with Anne coiled ever tighter with distance. Thoughts of her consumed him nearly every day. And there was little he could do to halt the slow erosion of his detachment. He kept telling himself theirs was a mésalliance of the worst kind. She wore her heart on her sleeve. He didn’t have one to give her. Yet, he couldn’t imagine his life without her. In the end, she could very well lose her life because of him.
Gabriel shook the morbid thought from his mind and stood. Jamie rose at the same time. “Jonas and I depart in the morning, Jamie. I’ll see Father before I leave. If he worsens, send word to Alenesby.”
He went to his brother and embraced him. “Father has trained you well, Jamie. I couldn’t ask for a better heir.”
He left the library before his brother could reply, not wanting to face any more of Jamie’s probing. Making his way up the stairs to his bedchamber, Gabriel considered his brother’s question. Had his mating with Anne marked him in some visible way? Had he become vulnerable because of her? He entered his bedroom and walked over to the silvered mirror. Vanishing his clothes, he studied what he saw. The eyes staring back at him were the same as they had always been. A blue so dark light hesitated to reflect what he saw. Gabriel’s gaze drifted over his nude body. For all the battles he had fought with demons and the undead, his skin was unmarred by scars. Anne had compared his flesh to a silken robe.
On the outside, he knew he remained the same. Inside . . . inside, he had changed. His bond with Anne had subtly altered him. He was different and a perceptive Jamie had noticed. Gabriel strolled to his bed. He had fed before joining his brother. Now all he wanted was a night without dreams of Anne Willoughby. His life mate was becoming a right nuisance.
Alenesby Manor rose from behind a small dip in the land and something akin to nostalgia filled Gabriel. His father had restored the country house after the King’s reconciliation with Parliament. The Elstones’ loyalty to the throne had never wavered and the manor and the surrounding area had suffered for it. Because of the manor’s location, Cromwell’s soldiers used it to control the pockets of resistance that flared during Charles’ exile. While the usurper ruled, the house had remained unused. Locals and soldiers considered it haunted and shied away from it. Their fear made it easy for the Duke to wage war on the exiled King’s behalf.
Gabriel reached the steps just as the door swung open and a man of indeterminate age came out to greet him. “Welcome home, my lord.”
“Thank you, George. I trust Agatha hasn’t give you much trouble.”
A grin skipped across George’s face. “At word of your arrival, she embarked on a flurry of cleaning. As if she doesn’t keep the manor house spotless.” He looked past Gabriel. “Welcome home, son.”
Jonas went to his father and embraced him. “It’s good to see you, Father. I gather Mother’s her usual self?”
“You’re in for it now, lads. She’s giddy to have both her boys under her wing for a while. Inside with you since I don’t need to hear her nagging how I kept you out in the cold.”
Agatha Knox raced into the hallway from the kitchen the moment the three men entered the house and a servant closed the door behind them. She grabbed her son and warmly kissed him. Then she reached for Gabriel, who leaned forward and gave her his cheek.
“It’s time you came home. Look at you two, all skin and bones. Into the parlor with you, and I don’t want to hear a peep out of you, Master Gabriel.”
She led the three men into the parlor. A table had been set with food and drink. Once they were seated, Agatha served them and then perched on a chair. A few minutes of silence passed as they ate. George was the first to break it. “How was the Duke, my lord?”
Gabriel frowned. “He’s worsening, George. My father is more frail than before. He’s merely biding his time until death. He said my mother came to him three days ago.”
Agatha shook her head. “After the Duchess disappeared, he was never the same. I’ve never seen a man so brokenhearted.”
The housekeeper gazed at Gabriel, her smile filled with compassion and sadness. “He lived for you. Your mother made him promise to see you into manhood. The Duke has done what she asked of him. I think he’s just tired and ready to join his true love.”
“It’s more than that,” Gabriel said, his gaze riveted on the fireplace mantle. “Father’s health is failing more rapidly than it should. If I were a superstitious human, I’d swear he was fed some poison that slowly ate at his life. I’ve examined him and can’t find a cause.”
“Will you —?”
“He won’t permit it. He says my mother calls to him and it is time to join her. His will is strong enough to prevent me from saving him. There’s nothing I can do.”
Silence weighed heavily until George asked about Gabriel’s stepmother and his brother Jamie. As Gabriel recounted anecdotes about the Duchess’ efforts to find him a wife she could control and her opposition to Jamie’s betrothal, a secret smile passed between Agatha and her husband. When the stories ended, Agatha sipped the expensive tea her son and Gabriel always sent.
“Who is she, Master Gabriel?”
He flicked a glance at Jonas, who shook his head. Gabriel expelled a frustrated sigh. “According to her, my mate for eternity. It is a situation I tried to end but she’s rather stubborn. I’ve repeatedly told her the undead do not take life mates, wives, or duchesses.”
“Who is she?” Agatha repeated.
“Anne Willoughby. The black daughter of an English nobleman and a woman whose lineage can be traced to Algeria.”
“An African?” George sputtered. “Is this his doing?”
Gabriel chuckled at George’s unwillingness to speak Mephistopheles’ name, as if that somehow afforded protection. “No, we can thank the archangel Gabriel for this mess.”
“Did you bite her, my lord?” George demanded. “Is that how she became your mate?”
“If I had bitten her, she would be dead and I’d have no life mate to speak of,” Gabriel said dryly. “Sadly, Fat
e has decided to interfere in my life whether I wish it or not.”
He set his wine glass on the side table and stood. “Will you inform Evans I’ll see him in the library in an hour’s time?” He glanced at Jonas. “Spend some time with your parents. I don’t need your services at the moment.”
Three pairs of eyes watched him stroll from the room and shut the door. Agatha was the first to speak. “Tell me about this woman, Jonas Knox. Have you seen her?”
Jonas squirmed on his chair. “There’s not much to tell, Mama. She’s one of Holland’s League ladies and a supernatural creature like Lord Gabriel, but I don’t know what kind. I think she can read your thoughts.”
“The brothel?”
Jonas pressed his lips together to repress a grin when his mother raised an eyebrow at his father’s outburst.
“And how would you know about a London brothel, George Knox?”
“From me, Mama,” Jonas interrupted, trying to save his father. “I’ve sworn to protect Lord Gabriel’s back but I need to see to mine as well. Father knows what my lord and I do, where we go, and who to contact should anything go awry.”
By the expression on her face, Agatha was far from satisfied. She folded her arms across her bosom. “Tell me more about this woman, Jonas.”
* * *
Gabriel lay sprawled on top of the smooth silk bedcover. He hadn’t bothered to strip off his clothing. His forearm draped across his eyes, he toyed with the idea of translocating to Holland’s League. He hadn’t touched Anne’s mind since his departure nearly a fortnight ago. Despite his best intentions to ignore the connection that throbbed steadily between them, his mind held fast to the idea that something was wrong. The demonic attempts on her life had failed but that failure only increased his anxiousness. The Fallen were a tenacious lot.
The steady hum of their conjoined life threads reassured him that she was unharmed. The knowledge, however, didn’t alleviate the peculiar emptiness inside his mind. He had grown accustomed to her presence, to the simple touch of her. While at Seveham and Alenesby, he’d sought her awareness, wanting the calming feel of her inside his head. Each time he slammed into a wall. He retreated in frustration and anger, vowing to stop. Then, like some silly youth, he would make another attempt, and another.
A bitter chuckle echoed in his head as he recalled, in a fit of rage, mentally setting fire to their conjoined threads. He winced at the memory of painful burns that magically healed themselves. Looking inward, he grunted. The threads pulsated as strongly as the day they were born.
Anne.
Silence rippled across his mind before he heard her voice. “Yes, my lord?”
For a fraction of a second, he thought his mind played tricks on him. That his need for her had created a semblance of her husky voice only he could hear. Yet, the words sounded in his bedchamber. She was there, had answered his silent call. I don’t care to be ignored.
“I’m not your wife or your servant, Demon. Your wishes matter little to me.”
Air stirred around him and her scent slowly entered his lungs. It was a familiar sensation, this physical shifting of space and time that was unique to her. The scent that never went away, an ever-present reminder of his life mate. He repositioned his body until he was seated on the edge of his bed. His voice sounded gruff to his ears when he said, “Show yourself.”
Anne hesitated. She had no idea why she was in Gabriel’s bedroom yet the pull had been irresistible. Her anger at the man sustained her while she avoided all contact with her life mate. The need to rebuild her protective walls, to guard her emotions and her heart from his indifference, had been too strong to resist. It had taken several days to heal the lacerations to her soul. Cocooned in her room, she’d methodically sorted through the painful memories Gabriel had shared.
From the first time she fully entered his mind, she could see that his soul had slipped too far into blackness. Nothing she might do would ease his burden. Not until Gabriel absolved himself of blame for his mother’s death.
The void in him was impenetrable and growing, even for one with her healing abilities. He had no idea the toll his hatred of Mephistopheles took on him, and on her. As his life mate, she’d felt the slow drain at the first touch, the first kiss. The first time their bodies came together, she did what she could to push back the darkness while they mated. And, for a brief moment as his seed filled her womb, she saw Gabriel’s soul as it should be.
His threads were the icy color of pure silver, floating on a gentle wave of cerulean. Even so, there was no way to mistake the nature of his birth, the pale pink blood flowing through every cell in Gabriel’s body. The flaw was unique to the undead, and the reason for the slow leaching of Gabriel’s soul.
Anne stepped from the shadowed light near his bed and gazed at him. Her heart raced, driven by a lethal combination of trepidation and desire. Illumination flared to hang over them like a bright lantern. She wondered if she’d ever grasp the full extent of his powers. Wondered if she’d be able to save herself when the time came and he turned on her.
Gabriel’s dark blue eyes were hidden behind shuttered lids. Her awareness reached out to touch his mind. A sharp slap had her reeling and she jerked away.
“I extended no invitation. Do not trespass again.”
She swallowed an angry retort, aware that her silence had created his mood. “What is it you want, my lord?”
“Your body, and nothing else,” he replied. “Why didn’t you make your presence known instead of crouching in the dark like a terrified mouse?”
“Not certain of my welcome, it appears my reluctance to show myself was justified. I’ll leave you to wallow in whatever miserable pit you’ve chosen. Good night, my lord.”
“It will be once you’re in my bed. Come Anne, we’ve already established the rules. Once my cock is satisfied, you are free to go.”
Anne found herself pinned beneath Gabriel’s naked body. His face inches from hers, he stared into her eyes. Bemused, she watched the quicksilver change in the color of his pupils, which went from their distinctive azure to a blue-gray then to dark blue. His head lowered and his lips brushed hers.
“You are aware love and hate most often share the same bed,” he murmured. “I believe whatever sorcery you’ve spun has landed me in that bed. As much as I adore your body, Anne, I’m coming to despise the emotional hold you have on my soul. What is difficult to accept is that I can’t have one without the other.”
Gabriel sighed as if he resented the revelation. Rather than speak, Anne reached up and cupped the back of his head, drawing his mouth down to hers. She kissed him softly, the tip of her tongue following the outline of his lips. Pulling away, she peered into his eyes. “Fate does not allow for negotiation between life mates.”
“Would that Fate stood before me,” he muttered. “No matter, I have you.”
His mouth covered hers and she didn’t resist. There was no point. She was as malleable as clay beneath his touch. He teased her lips apart, his tongue languidly tracing the top and then the bottom. A soft pant escaped when the tip of his tongue danced lightly at each corner of her mouth. Her lips parted even further, inviting his exploration. Gabriel ignored the invitation and continued to lick each corner with slow strokes.
“I love your skin,” he whispered. “Brown silk. Shall I show you how much, my obstinate Tamahaq?”
Anne swallowed nervously when his mouth moved to her throat. He pressed feather-like kisses on her skin. His hand stroked along her hip and hesitated. “No knife this time? What a trusting little soul you’ve become, Tamahaq.”
As always, when it came to Gabriel, pleasure and fear warred inside Anne. His acerbic taunts were pinpricks that soon became punctures. Always just before they made love. Each time she fought the compulsion to seek his bed, she failed. She was no more immune to him than he to her and instinct warned that over time this game of his might not bode well for either of them. For now, Anne told herself, she’d take what pleasures he offered.
/> Soft mewls passed between them and she obeyed when he nudged her thighs apart. At some point we will have to resolve this stalemate between us, Anne. But not now.
The weight of his semi-erect penis on her belly and Gabriel’s warm mouth caressing her flesh elicited her agreement. Definitely not now.
22
“Do you happily consent to my discipline?”
“Oh yes, Lady Eleanor, I will accept the punishment I deserve.”
Anne peered through a secret window into the chamber where Eleanor stood with her client. This was the first time she’d acted as sentinel for the sex games that involved clients Eleanor referred to as her “naughty ones.” The room was furnished to cater to those who required humiliation and pain to experience pleasure. The room’s walls were thickly paneled to muffle the groans and cries of satisfaction that echoed from the mostly male throats. Like all the rooms in Holland’s League, this chamber had two doors, in addition to the discreet spy window. One door Eleanor’s clients had no idea existed.
When the courtesan proposed the room, Anne had been shocked. She had no idea there were men and women incapable of passion without a certain type of play as Eleanor named it. The room was filled with a variety of restraints, from silken ones to irons, and objects Anne couldn’t imagine how to use. The chamber proved to be a very profitable addition to the brothel once its existence became discreetly known.
Sir Edgar Chilcote wasn’t aware he was being observed and overheard. Eleanor wore an amused expression as she glanced in the direction of the secret window. She was well aware Anne looked to her safety while Ishmael, Malcolm, and O’Brien were otherwise engaged. The courtesan also knew it was Anne’s first time watching sex play.
Lord Chilcote was the client whose penchant for humiliation had led to the room’s creation. His weekly visits to Holland’s League and Eleanor had been profitable. Anne wondered if Chilcote’s betrothed would embrace her husband’s inclinations after their vows; if the woman would become a partner to his pleasures or put an end to his visits to the brothel. If the couple did visit together, they wouldn’t be the first to do so. Eleanor and Angelica had several married couples who visited Holland’s League for this room alone.
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