Second Sight

by Amanda Quick

  “Because I knew you would stop if I did,” she whispered. She speared her fingers through his hair. “And I didn’t want you to stop.” He groaned. “Venetia.”

  But the energy they had generated between them was rising once more. Gabriel lowered his mouth to hers in a kiss that had all the hallmarks of a stamp of possession as well as passion.

  When he freed her she drew in an unsteady breath, wriggling a little in an effort to adjust to the intimate invasion.

  “Don’t,” Gabriel said. “Move.” He sounded as though he were having trouble breathing.

  She smiled a little, put her arms around his neck and pulled him more tightly to her.

  “You do realize you will pay for this,” he said.

  “I certainly hope so.”

  He started to withdraw very slowly.

  “No.” She tightened herself around him, trying to hold him deep inside.

  “I’m not going anywhere,” he said.

  The words were both a promise and a delicious threat.

  He drove back into her, filling her, stretching her to the limit. She wanted this desperately but she could not take any more of it, she thought.

  Without warning, the great tension inside her was released in compelling waves, a pleasure so intense that it bordered on pain.

  With an exultant roar, Gabriel surged into her one last time. His climax caused the psychical fire to leap with such potent force that she was amazed it did not set the whole of Arcane House ablaze.

  3

  SHE FELT GABRIEL STIR a long time later. He sat up slowly, his hand resting on her breast. He studied her for a long time in the firelight before he bent his head, kissed her lightly and got to his feet.

  He picked up her underclothes and handed them to her. Then he reached for his trousers.

  “I think,” he said, “that you owe me an explanation.”

  She crushed the fine linen of her chemise between her fingers. “You are annoyed because I did not tell you that I had never done this sort of thing before.”

  He looked thoughtful, almost amused. “Annoyed is not the right word. I am delighted to know that you have not done this sort of thing before with any other man. But you should have made that clear at the outset.”

  She struggled into the chemise. “If I had, would you have gone forward with the project?”

  “Yes, my sweet. Without a doubt.”

  She looked up, startled. “Is that true?”

  “It’s true.” He smiled slightly. “But I like to think that I would have employed rather more finesse.”

  “I…see.”

  He watched her face in the firelight. “Does that shock you?”

  “I’m not sure. Yes, I think it does.”

  “Why? Did you believe me to be such a proper gentleman, then?”

  “Well, yes,” she admitted.

  “And I believed you to be a lady with some experience of the world. It seems that we were both under some minor misconceptions.”

  “Minor misconceptions?” she repeated coolly.

  “Not that they matter now.” He fastened his trousers. “Tell me, what made you decide to seduce me?”

  So much for her powers of subtlety. She was embarrassed that she had been so obvious.

  “Given my age and circumstances, it has become clear that I am unlikely to ever marry,” she said. “Frankly, sir, I saw no reason on earth why I should feel obliged to deny myself a taste of passion for the rest of my life. If I were a man, no one would expect me to remain celibate forever.”

  “You are correct, of course. When it comes to certain things, Society sets down a different set of rules for men than it does for women.”

  “Nevertheless, there are rules.” She sighed. “One flaunts them at one’s peril. I have certain responsibilities to my family. I must be careful to avoid any scandal that could ruin my photography career. It is our only source of income.”

  “But when you arrived at Arcane House it occurred to you that the situation offered an opportunity to conduct a grand experiment with illicit passion, is that it?”

  “Yes.” She had her dress on now. She busied herself with the hooks. “You did not appear to object, sir. In fact, you seemed quite willing to go along with my experiment.”

  “I was, indeed, quite willing.”

  “Well, there you have it.” Relieved that her logic had proven sound, she managed a smile. “There is no need for either of us to be concerned about what happened here tonight. We will soon go our separate ways. When I return home to Bath, it will be as though it was all a dream.”

  “I don’t know about you,” Gabriel said, suddenly quite grim, “but I think I need some fresh air.”

  “No offense, sir, but are men always this moody after making love?”

  “I happen to possess rather delicate sensibilities.”

  He took her hand and led her back out onto the terrace. The evening coat that he had given her to wear earlier lay in a crumpled heap on the stone. He picked it up and draped it once more around her shoulders.

  “Now,” he said, gripping the lapels to hold her where he wanted her. “About this theory of yours that what happened here tonight will soon be nothing more than a dream.”

  “What of it?”

  “I have news for you, my sweet. The situation between us is somewhat more complicated than you believe it to be.”

  “I don’t understand,” she whispered.

  “Trust me, I am all too well aware of that. But I do not think that tonight is the right moment for a full explanation. Tomorrow will be soon enough.”

  He bent his head to kiss her again. But this time she could not abandon herself to the embrace. Uncertainty was clawing at her. Perhaps she had made a terrible mistake after all.

  Gabriel’s temper seemed uncertain, even volatile. All in all, he was behaving in an extremely odd manner for a man who had just been engaged in an act of passion. Then again, what did she know of how men acted after such events?

  His mouth covered hers. She opened her eyes, braced her hands on his shoulders and pushed hard. It was like trying to shove aside a mountain. Gabriel did not move but he did raise his head.

  “Will you deny me a good-night kiss?” he asked.

  She did not answer him. She wanted to view his aura first. It might give her some clue to his true emotions.

  For a second or two her vision wavered between normal and paranormal. Light and shadow reversed. The night took on the aspect of a photographic negative.

  Gabriel’s aura became visible. But so did someone else’s.

  Startled, she looked out into the dark woods beyond the garden.

  “What is it?” Gabriel asked quietly.

  She realized that he had immediately understood that something was wrong.

  “There is someone out there in the woods,” she said.

  “One of the servants,” he suggested, turning to look.

  “No.” There were very few servants at Arcane House. Over the past few days, her curiosity about the place had prompted her to view all of their auras. Whoever was out there in the thick trees was a stranger to her.

  A second aura appeared, trailing swiftly behind the first.

  There was no point trying to describe what she saw to Gabriel. Let him think that her vision was especially keen. That was, in a sense, the truth.

  “There are two of them,” she said softly. “They are keeping to the shadows. I think they are making for the conservatory door.”

  “Yes,” he said. “I can see them.”

  She glanced at him, astonished. The intruders’ auras were visible to her paranormal senses but she could not believe that Gabriel could make out the two men using only his normal vision. Very little moonlight penetrated the woods that bordered the grounds of Arcane House.

  There was no time to question him. He was already in motion.

  “Come with me.” He swung around, seizing her arm.

  Automatically, she clutched his coat to keep it fr
om sliding off her shoulders. He drew her swiftly back through the French doors into the warmth of the library.

  “Where are we going?” she asked a little breathlessly.

  “There is no way of knowing who those two are or what they are after. I want you away from this place at once.”

  “My things—”

  “Forget them. There is no time to pack.”

  “My camera,” she said, trying to dig in her heels. “I cannot leave it behind.”

  “You can buy another with the money you were paid for this commission.”

  That was true but she did not like the thought of leaving her precious equipment behind, let alone her clothes. The gowns she had brought with her to Arcane House were her best.

  “Mr. Jones, what is going on here? Surely you are overreacting. If you alert the servants they will be able to make certain that those housebreakers do not get inside.”

  “I doubt very much that those two are ordinary, garden-variety thieves.” Gabriel paused beside the desk and gripped the velvet bell pull. He gave it three short, sharp tugs. “That will alert the servants. They have their instructions for this sort of emergency.”

  He opened the bottom drawer of the desk and reached inside. When he straightened, Venetia saw that he held a pistol in his hand.

  “Follow me,” he ordered. “I will see you safely out of here and then I will deal with the intruders.”

  A hundred questions leaped to mind but there was no ignoring the unequivocal air of command. Whatever was going on here, Gabriel obviously believed that it amounted to more than a common house burglary.

  She grabbed fistfuls of her heavy skirts and hurried after him. She assumed that they would make for the door that opened onto the long, central hall. But to her amazement, Gabriel went to a classical statue of a Greek god that stood near a bookcase and moved one of the stone arms.

  The muffled groan of heavy hinges emanated from somewhere inside the wall. A section of the wooden paneling swung ponderously outward to reveal a narrow staircase. She could see only the first few steps. The rest plunged downward into darkness.

  Gabriel hoisted a lantern that had been left at the top of the staircase and struck a light. The yellow glare of the lamp spilled into the pool of midnight below the steps. He waited until she had stepped gingerly onto the top step before pulling the wall closed behind them.

  “Have a care,” Gabriel said, starting down into the depths. “These steps are very old. They date back to the most ancient portion of the abbey.”

  “Where do they lead?”

  “To a concealed tunnel that once served the abbey as an escape route in the event of attack,” he said.

  “What makes you think that those two intruders are more than ordinary ruffians?”

  “Very few people outside the members of the society are even aware that Arcane House exists, let alone its precise location. You will recall that you were driven here at night in a closed carriage. Could you find your way back again?”

  “No,” she admitted.

  “When visitors are brought to Arcane House they always arrive in a similar manner. Yet those two villains obviously know where they are going and what they are about. Therefore I must assume that they are more than simple burglars who happened to stumble upon a likely looking household to rob.”

  “I take your point.”

  Gabriel reached the bottom of the steps. Venetia barely avoided stumbling into him.

  The flaring lantern light illuminated a stone-walled corridor. The smell of damp earth and decayed vegetation was heavy. There was an unpleasant rustling and skittering at the edges of the shadows. The light gleamed briefly on small, malevolent eyes.

  Rats, Venetia thought. Just the added touch needed to complete the scene of gothic horror. She raised her skirts a little higher so that she could see precisely where she was putting her feet.

  “This way,” Gabriel ordered.

  She followed him along the low, vaulted tunnel, running to keep up with him. Gabriel had to keep his head low to avoid a nasty encounter with the unyielding stone.

  A fresh wave of unease washed across her senses. The passageway seemed to constrict around her. She fought the panic, forcing herself to concentrate on following Gabriel.

  “Are you all right?” he asked.

  “It is very close in here,” she said tightly.

  “Not much farther,” he promised.

  She could not answer. She was too busy managing her skirts and the shifting weight of the small bustle that threatened to unbalance her.

  The tunnel twisted and turned several times. Just when she was sure that she would start screaming mindlessly, the corridor dead-ended in a solid wall of stone.

  “Dear heaven,” she whispered, slamming to a stop. “I had better warn you that I do not think I can make a return trip through that dreadful tunnel.”

  “There is no need to go back,” Gabriel said. “We have arrived at our destination.”

  He reached out and grasped a heavy iron lever embedded in the stone. When he pulled it down, a section of the wall slid aside.

  Cool night air flowed into the passageway. Venetia breathed deeply, shivering with relief.

  Gabriel stepped through the opening, gun in hand.

  “Willard?” he called softly.

  “Here, sir.” A bulky figure loomed in the shadows.

  Venetia recognized the coachman who had collected her from the train station and driven her to Arcane House. She had seen him several times during the past few days.

  “Excellent,” Gabriel said. “Do you have your pistol?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Mrs. Willard is safe?”

  “She is in the carriage, sir. Scanton and Dobbs are waiting for you at the entrance to the Great Vault, according to the plan you gave us.”

  “You will take Miss Milton and Mrs. Willard to the village. Stay with Miss Milton until she boards the morning train.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Gabriel turned back to Venetia and lowered his voice. “Good-bye, my sweet. I will find you when this business is finished. Remember what you said to me tonight when you lay in my arms. You are mine.”

  She could scarcely believe her ears. He intended to see her again? Dumbfounded, she opened her mouth to ask when and where they would meet.

  But Gabriel did not give her an opportunity to speak. He kissed her once, very hard. It was the kiss of a man who is staking a claim.

  Before she could recover, he was turning away, heading toward the blackness of the tunnel entrance. She concentrated briefly. The world became a negative image. She caught one last glimpse of Gabriel’s dark, powerful aura, and then he was gone.

  Before she could collect herself, the wall of stone resealed itself, leaving her alone with Willard.

  “This way, Miss Milton,” Willard said.

  She looked at the solid stone wall. “Will he be safe?”

  “Mr. Jones knows how to take care of himself.”

  “Perhaps you should accompany him.”

  “Mr. Jones doesn’t like it when folks fail to follow his orders, Miss Milton. I’ve worked for him long enough to know that it’s best to do as he says. Come along now. It’s a long drive back to the village.”

  Reluctantly she allowed him to assist her into the sleek carriage. The housekeeper was already inside. She did not speak when Venetia sat down across from her.

  Willard slammed the door shut and bounded up onto the box. The vehicle swayed beneath the weight of his bulk. She heard the slap of the leathers.

  The horses leaped forward, jolting Venetia back into the depths of the cushioned seat. Pulling aside the curtain, she watched the stone wall through which Gabriel had disappeared until it was lost from sight. It was not long before the carriage rounded a corner, cutting off her view.

  Some time later it dawned on her that she was still wearing Gabriel’s coat. She sank deeper into it, comforting herself with his lingering scent.

  T ALK ABOU
T EXTRAORDINARILY poor timing, Gabriel thought. Irritation compounded the icy anticipation of the hunt as he moved back through the ancient tunnel. The evening had been going very well, indeed. He had enjoyed his seduction enormously, even though there had been a few surprises in the course of events. If there had been even a modicum of justice in the universe, he would have been escorting Venetia Milton upstairs to a cozy bedroom about now.

  He regretted having to send her away, but given the seriousness of the situation, he’d had no choice. He did not know yet what the intruders were after or just how dangerous they might prove to be. But the very fact that they had found Arcane House and seemed to know their way around was a very bad sign.

  He reached the hidden staircase and climbed it swiftly. At the top he paused to listen before opening the secret panel.

  All of his senses were fully open now. In this heightened state of awareness he could detect his prey and anticipate its actions in the way that only a true predator can.

  It chagrined him to realize that he had been so intent on trying to decide how and when to tell Venetia the full truth about their situation that he had not immediately sensed the intruders. The fact that she had noticed them first was embarrassing, to say the least. Obviously his attention and his concentration had been elsewhere.

  Nevertheless, it was astonishing that she had been able to see them at all in the dark woods that ringed Arcane House. He would have to ask her about that the next time they met.

  The psychical side of his nature would no doubt prove quite useful in dealing with whatever was about to happen here tonight. But it was an unpleasant reality that he could not make use of his paranormal senses without succumbing to the chilling fever of the hunt. It was already upon him, igniting his blood.

  His father was convinced that psychical senses represented a new, more advanced development in humans. But Gabriel secretly wondered if in his case the reverse might be true. Perhaps he was in reality some sort of throwback.

  When he was in this state his deepest fear was that beneath his expensive clothes and the gloss of a fine education and drawing-room manners, he was actually something quite the opposite of a truly modern man. He wondered if, in fact, he was exhibiting traits and characteristics that could only be described as primeval.