Sins of a Virgin (16 page)

“It was the statue pose, wasn’t it? And to think, I complained the expression on the statue didn’t look convincing.”

“You have a sally in response to everything, don’t you?”

“Of course.” She relaxed against him, her cheek resting against his chest. “I suppose after all my talk of independence I should protest this treatment, but I really was dreading having to drag myself back to my room.”

Gabriel breathed slowly through his mouth as he carried her, trying to avoid the subtle scent of vanilla clinging to her hair. If he shifted her more tightly against him, it was only because he wanted to keep her steady as he climbed the stairs, not because he wanted to feel those silken strands against his chin.

The late afternoon sun rendered the dark green walls and walnut paneling of her room only slightly less oppressive. He laid her on the edge of the bed. Without the life-or-death threat of the night before, it was impossible to ignore his body’s immediate response to the simple gesture. “Let me check your stitches.” His voice sounded gravelly to his own ears.

“You’ll do anything to see me naked, won’t you?” She grimaced. “I do that without thinking, you know. Turn everything into innuendo. The words form more out of habit than anything. Thank heavens I avoided meeting the pope. The shock might have killed him.”

Behind the self-mocking tone, a forlorn note lurked. The sudden desire to banish it overwhelmed him. “So you don’t want me to see you naked?”

She jerked slightly against the pillow and her eyes widened. “That is neither here nor there. The point is, I would’ve made the comment to anyone.”

“But would you have then confessed it?”

Sighing, Madeline closed her eyes. “I don’t need my head to ache, too. Just strip me naked.”

The thought of slipping the clothing from her body was slightly less unsettling than the thought of her undressing for him, so Gabriel unfastened her bodice, keeping his fingers light so they touched only cool, round buttons and soft fabric. Even so, the heat from her skin radiated over his fingers, luring them closer. He swore silently as his fingers fumbled.

Madeline opened her eyes and caught his hand. “No wonder you cut my clothing off last night. I would’ve bled to death by the time you finished. Let me.”

Gabriel nodded, pinning his gaze to the windows. Four panes of glass per window. Three windows.

Her fingers unfastened the button between her breasts. The material slowly parted in her wake—

That would make twelve panes of glass. Now a pane of glass that size would most likely cost fifteen shillings apiece, which would—

“All done.” Amusement tinted her words, but since he’d managed to survive the disrobing without ravishing her, he was content to allow her humor at his expense.

After all, urgency and exhaustion had consumed him last night. There was no way reality could live up to what his memory swore he beheld last night. No woman could have been so flawless—

“Hell.” Gabriel’s oath wasn’t silent this time. She was more than perfect. Desire grabbed him by the throat, making him fight to draw in a breath.

She’s tired and in pain
. Repeating the mantra over and over in his mind was the only thing that kept Gabriel from making a fool of himself and cupping one of Madeline’s rosy-tipped breasts in his hand to test its weight.

He quickly moved the bandage. The wound appeared to be healing. No redness or swelling encroached on the cut. He wrapped her with brisk efficiency.

“I don’t mind if you see me naked.”

“What?” Gabriel paused in the middle of tying the bandage in place.

“I didn’t answer when you asked earlier. Besides, you saw the cavalry last night.”

“Cavalry?” He’d apparently lost the ability not only to create sentences, but to understand them.

She winked, then glanced pointedly down at her breasts. “You know, upfront and flashy but of no real use.”

For the second time that afternoon, a chuckle escaped him. But under her intent gaze, his laugh faded.

Her breath hitched through softly parted lips. He stared at those dewy lips until self-preservation drove his eyes downward. As her rib cage rose and fell, her breasts quivered, her nipples straining toward him.

He jerked his gaze upward to her face. Her eyes still watched him. She could hardly have missed him gawking at her breasts.

If any other sound had filtered into the room, he would’ve missed the slight increase in the cadence of her breath. He would have missed the dry gulp as a swallow rippled down her throat.

But there was no other sound.

His hand drifted upward until his knuckles grazed the underside of her breast. Her breath escaped in a tiny
hic
of pleasure, and he gloried in that one awkward sound far more than in a dozen of her perfect moans.

When he would have continued his caress higher, the bandage he held in his hand pulled tight, stopping him.

Damnation
. What had happened to his control?

He finished tying the bandage with a quick yank, then drew her nightgown closed.

“Gabriel—”

A knock sounding on the door interrupted Madeline.

“Miss?” Canterbury poked in his ostrich-feather-adorned head. “Glad to see you resting.” He held out a slip of paper. “The updated list from Naughton’s.”

Gabriel retrieved it from him. He scanned the list, then froze. The blood drained from his head, then rushed back with a deafening roar.

“Who is currently the top bidder?” Madeline asked.

“The Marquess of Northgate.” Gabriel crumpled the paper and threw it into the grate, watching in satisfaction as flames dragged it into oblivion. “My father.”

Chapter Fifteen

M
adeline turned her face into the shadows dusting her pillow to disguise her shock. “Your father is a marquess?” It did explain a lot. For instance, Gabriel’s Oxford education.

Gabriel looked as though he wanted to pull the list from the fire and stomp on the ashes for good measure. “The man is a lecherous reprobate.”

“Then he should fit in well with the rest of my bidders.”

Gabriel’s frown deepened, but he didn’t respond to her jest. He ran his hand through his short-cropped hair. “I have other things I must see to this evening.”

Madeline barely stopped herself from grabbing his sleeve to prevent him from leaving. “You can’t make a statement like that, then not expound.”

“Indeed, I can.”

Not if she tied him to the chair and held a hot poker to his feet. The idea held merit at the moment. “Do you want me to take him out of consideration?”

Gabriel shrugged. “Do what you will. I’ve had nothing to do with the man in thirty years. He means nothing to me.”

A man doesn’t burn the name of someone about whom he’s ambivalent
.

“So you don’t care if I make wild and passionate love to him in this very bed?”

A muscle twitched in his jaw. “No.”

Stubborn man. “If he strips my gown from me and kisses his way down my body?”

“No.” But the tendons had corded on his neck.

“If I lie back on this bed and wrap my legs around his waist as he—”

“Damnation, Madeline! What do you want from me?” He stalked to the bed and braced his hands on the edge, inches from her shoulder. So many dark emotions churned across his face she couldn’t begin to decipher them all. In Moscow, she’d once seen a man taunt a bear, poking and prodding until suddenly the animal snapped, lunging and snarling.

But in Moscow the bear had been chained.

Gabriel’s knuckles gleamed white where they clenched her bedding. “Some heartfelt tale of a little boy longing for a father? Is that what you are looking for?” He caught her chin between his forefinger and thumb. “Because you won’t find it. That man is worse than the dung on the streets, but if you want him, by all means have him. I have no doubt he has plenty of money.” He jerked his hand away from her face with a growl.

“Gabriel—” She froze. She had no idea what she wanted to say to that. She simply knew she didn’t want him to stride out the door. Not yet. “What happened between him and your mother?”

He gave a harsh bark of laughter. “Do you really need me to explain where babies come from?”

“You said he took advantage of her.”

“Why do you want to know?”

“I don’t know.” And that was the truth. It wasn’t the question she should be asking. It didn’t affect her or the auction like the information he was hiding about his sister. “It would help fill the time, keep me in bed,” she finished lamely.

“You want me to share my family secrets because you’re bored? If you want a reason to stay in bed, I can give you a much better one.” His finger dragged along her jaw in a rough caress, then softened as he traced her lips. He leaned in until she could see every nuance of jade in his pale eyes. “Do you feel like getting out of bed now?”

She hardly remembered she had legs.

His hand lowered to the neckline of her nightgown, hovering just above the tiny ruffle below her throat. Each inhale brought the sensitive skin of her chest against his fingers. She found herself holding her breath to maintain the contact.

“How about now?” he asked, parting the edges of her gown, his mouth lowering to the space between her breasts, briefly caressing it. “Why would I want to tell you some tawdry tale when I can be doing this?”

Her skin burned as if he’d branded her. “Because if you do, I’ll repay you in kind. I’ll tell you something about me.”

His lips left her skin, and she cursed her stupid tongue.

Gabriel fastened her top button, his gaze intent. “What will you tell me?”

“About my own parents.” Why was she bargaining? It was an ineffective tool that left far too much in Gabriel’s control. And a bargain meant she had to give something up.

“The truth?”

But it did seem to be working. “Yes.”

He stared at her for a moment, his eyes searching her face in an unnerving manner. Then he spoke. “My mother was a governess, the only child of a vicar. She worked for Lord Simon. One summer, his older brother, the Marquess of Northgate, came to stay with them. Even though he was engaged to marry another woman, he seduced my mother. When he knew she was pregnant, he refused to do the right thing and marry her.”

She reached for him but he stepped away. “How did your mother take it?”

He gave a short shake of his head, and color darkened his cheekbones. “She makes excuses for him. He had her so enthralled with his lies, I think she still believes him and his promises of love.” Behind his anger lurked embarrassment that his mother had allowed herself to be so gullible. Gabriel was not one to excuse foolishness.

“Have you ever met him?”

“No. He attempted to come to my sister’s funeral. But I refused him. As if he hadn’t made her a bastard and robbed her of the life she should have had as a lady.”

“And you the life as heir to a marquess?”

Gabriel snorted. “He and his title can go rot for all I care. But Susan deserved better. And my mother.”

Madeline tentatively grasped the opening he provided. “What happened to your sister?”

“She was murdered seven years ago.”

“What—”

“Enough. Your turn.”

Madeline inhaled slowly, smoothing over the panic that rippled through her at the thought of revealing a piece of herself.
Stop it
. There was nothing dangerous in the information, nothing that could be used against her. Her father and mother were both dead. She was no longer a spy with an identity to hide.

But there had to be some way he could turn the information against her. There always was.

She concentrated to force the words past her years of training. “My mother was Elizabeth Valdan, the daughter of a rector. She was married to Thomas St. John, a traveling actor.” She exhaled. That was more than enough of that.

Gabriel was silent. “And?”

“That’s it. I only have the two. I believe that’s the way of things.”

“We had a bargain.”

“We did, and if you choose not to be more explicit in your bargaining, that is no fault of mine.” Hurt sharpened her tone. But of course, he didn’t know what that small morsel of information had cost her.

With a growl, Gabriel braced his hands on either side of her head, his face inches from hers. “You know that’s not what I intended.”

The position should have made her feel trapped. After her mother had died, Madeline promised herself she’d never be confined again. The first day in gaol, she’d beaten and clawed against the door and bars until blood dripped down her arms, mingling with the dead man’s blood already staining her clothes.

She should do the same thing now. She should pound her fists against Gabriel and free herself. It would be easy. A blow to the chin since she didn’t want to hurt him too badly.

But when her hands connected with his body, they weren’t fists.

She slid her palms up his chest, her fingers sliding easily over the fabric of his coat, the muscle underneath as smooth and hard as polished stone. Keeping one hand on his pounding heart, she wrapped the other around the back of his neck. She slipped her fingers through the hair at his nape, relishing the smooth, even texture. “What is it you intended then?”

He lowered his mouth until his lips were an inch from hers. “To find out the truth about you.”

“So you keep saying. Why? Why do you want to know about me? I’ll be out of your life in little more than a week. I mean nothing more to you than you mean to me.” She tugged on his neck, trying to close the distance between them, wanting nothing more than for the tingling in her lips to cease.

But he resisted, his mouth remaining impossibly far from hers. “I wish to hell I knew. You torment me, Madeline.” His words weren’t the thwarted cry of a desperate lover. They were accusatory, almost angry.

She knew that if she lifted her lips to his, he would be lost. She could see the hunger glowing in his eyes. The desire. Lust was her weapon of choice and she wielded it well. He was strung as tight as a fresh-made bow. If she pressed, he would snap, giving her what she wanted. What she needed.