by Robyn DeHart
Mary nodded. “As I said, she bears the mark. Every member of that royal family has had the mark for the last two hundred years.” She stood and shuffled over to a cabinet in the corner of the room. There she retrieved a book.
Gabe helped Mary return to her seat, and then he sat and faced her. “How did you get Isabel?”
“I am originally from there. Saldania. I had already fled the country when the unrest began.” She opened the book and Lilith was surprised to see a big square cut into the pages, creating a hidden compartment. “I heard about the royal massacre through letters from family and friends,” Mary said. “Then a year or so later, I found her, Isabel, outside my door. She had a note pinned to her saying that she’d been orphaned during the Saldanian war, and that her family had asked that she be sent to live with a Saldanian person. Every month I was sent money, and then when the girl turned five, I was instructed to take her to the school.” She held folded pieces of parchment out to Lilith. “Here are all of the letters, though they mostly contain instructions.”
“Then how did Thornton get involved?” Lilith asked.
“In some capacity I believe he was always involved. He met me at the school that day. Introduced himself as the girl’s father, but of course I’d been told she was orphaned.” Mary shook her head. “He is related to her, though, in some way. His mother was Saldanian. He was chosen to care for the girl, though I’m not certain why. The other man, I have no notion of who he was. I’ve only seen him that one time.” She reached over and handed something to Gabe.
“Likely the fact that Thornton was an earl and therefore had money and prestige,” Gabe said. He eyed the ring Mary had placed in his palm. “Saldanian signet ring?”
“I suppose,” Mary said.
“Someone else obviously knows who she is,” Lilith said. “That’s why—”
Gabe reached over and placed his hand over hers to stop her from saying too much. She promptly closed her mouth.
“She is in danger?” Mary asked. “I also thought that if anyone from Saldania knew where to find her they would come get her.”
Lilith shuddered.
“She might be,” Gabe said. “We want to be certain. Now that Lord Thornton is dead, we can’t be too careful. He was murdered,” Gabe said.
“Nothing less than he deserved, I don’t suppose,” Mary said, her voice cracking.
“We shouldn’t have anything to worry much from the new Saldanian government. They are a democracy now, like the Americans.”
“So the lost princess would not be a threat?” Lilith asked.
Gabe exhaled. “I certainly can’t promise that, but I think the current threat here in England is more pressing.”
“Do keep my sweet Isabel safe,” Mary said.
“I shall not rest until she is safe,” Lilith said.
Gabe lingered in Mary’s cottage for a moment after Lilith had stepped outside. He handed Mary his calling card. “If you need anything, you use this.”
Mary’s eyes filled with tears.
He wasn’t normally a sentimental man, the sort to be overly concerned with the emotions of others, but something about the old woman’s obvious distress pulled at him. “I’m certain Lady Thornton would agree you are welcome to visit Isabel whenever you please,” Gabe said.
She hugged him, her tiny stature feeling almost childlike.
When he stepped outside the cottage he saw Lilith immediately. She stood off the cobbled path, her head tilted upward as she gazed at the heavens. So much of her stance reminded him of the night he’d first seen her, the night they’d met. He looked up as well, noting the stars were quite brilliant with the clear night, but their glittering light could not hold his attention long. Her curves, soft in the moonlight, beckoned him. He closed the distance between them, wanting to touch her, but not certain if it was a wise choice.
“I wanted to ask you to dance that night,” he said softly.
She showed no signs that he’d startled her with his quiet approach and instead simply said, “But you didn’t.” Her tone was neither accusatory nor teasing; perhaps more resignation was what he heard.
“No, I did not. A dance wouldn’t have changed things.”
“Perhaps not,” she said.
“I would still have been the brother of the duke. Not exactly the choice for an advantageous union.”
“The choice was never mine to begin with,” she said, her voice barely a whisper.
He stood directly behind her then, so close that he could smell the lavender in her hair. He slid his hands up her arms, lightly gripped her shoulders. “Would it have mattered? Had you been the one to choose?” He realized, in that moment, that he desperately wanted to know her answer, wanted to hear her say that she’d have chosen him had things been different those years before. Instead she said something he hadn’t expected.
“So had your brother not interrupted us and we’d danced, how would you have proceeded that night?”
“I would have taken you by the hand.” He linked their fingers then. “And we would have strolled through the gardens.”
“Scandalous,” she said. A smile graced her lips and she squeezed his hand. “I would have dared tell you more about the stars.”
“Scandalous, indeed. You are a lady of good breeding. Certainly that means you don’t have scholarly aspirations,” he said, enjoying their charade. Even more so he enjoyed the feel of her hand cupped within his own. He ran his thumb against her soft skin. Despite the chill in the air, neither of them wore gloves, a fact in and of itself that most Londoners would have found shameful. But here on this quiet village road, it felt intimate and quite right.
“Ah, but I do. I hope this isn’t disappointing to you.”
“Lovely and with an academic mind. My dear, you could be too good to be true.” And with that he swept her close to him and waltzed them down the path.
She laughed. The sound was something truly magical, as if he’d never before heard anyone laugh. “What are you doing?”
“Dancing. I told you I wanted to dance with you.”
“Yes, but we were actually attending a ball then. Right now there is no music.”
But in a ballroom he would not be able to hold her so closely, drop his hand so low on her back to where he could feel the subtle curve of his backside. “Certainly you jest, my lady. Can you not hear the musicians playing Beethoven’s Waltz in F Major right now?” he asked.
She met his gaze and smiled. “Yes, now I do, though admittedly the cellist is lagging behind.”
“And probably hoping no one will notice.” They danced for several minutes. Only the two of them, under a blanket of twinkling stars, no music, merely the sounds of their feet shuffling against the road.
“We would have caused quite the scandal. The second son and the fortune hunter,” she said.
For a moment he allowed the fantasy to run its course. They could have fallen in love. Would her father have driven them apart or been satisfied by Gabe’s family purse strings? Would she have been willing to run away with him, far from everything in search of their own private happiness? His steps slowed and he studied her face, wondering if she too had imagined what their life might have been. There was a pause before he finally spoke again. “Your father gave you no choice?” he asked, in spite of himself.
“Had there been two dukes of equal fortune and property warring for my hand, he might have allowed me to select one of the two,” she said.
He knew this was a common practice among families. Girls were wed off to the best offer, much like their fathers were dealing in horseflesh rather than their own flesh and blood. Marriage was a business transaction, a commodity to be traded for a pretty girl’s virtue, but that did not mean she would have chosen him had things been different. He’d been so much younger when they’d met, and chances were he wouldn’t have been able to maintain her interest. Life tended to not ever work out so perfectly, though. Gabe knew that. He’d certainly lived that.
More than
likely things would have proceeded as they had. She would have picked Rafe, and Thornton, well, had he been a true contender or merely her father’s choice? Gabe had a mind to ask, but right now, he dared not shatter the fantasy they played in. Right now, she was with him and this was the most honest he’d seen her.
He slowed their dance until they stopped; their breaths mingled as he still held her close.
True to form, she tilted her head, her lovely eyes darting upward to the skies. “See there?” she asked, pointing. “That is Draco, or the dragon. I always loved how long his tail was. And there”—again she pointed—“that is Cassiopeia.”
“The queen of unrivalled beauty. She certainly does shine brightly.”
“Indeed.”
“You still know their names,” he said.
“They were my only friends for so long. A girl doesn’t forget the names of her closest friends.” And then as if her admission had taken too much, she shook her head. “We’d best be getting to the inn before it gets too late.” And just like that the Lilith who had laughed and played disappeared and in place was the shield that kept her hidden from the world.
He’d never had a large number of close friends, but he had people he could count on. His life had always provided that, but for her she’d considered only the stars her friends. Perhaps that had been her draw to him originally—she’d seen him as a possible ally, a nonthreatening man who could make no legitimate claim to her hand. Perhaps instead of blaming her for so long for his brother’s death, he should have considered life from her perspective. She’d quite obviously needed a friend during her years with Thornton. When help was as far away as the closest stars.
“Quite right,” he said.
Half an hour later Lilith and Gabe had checked into the only available room at the Crow & the Thistle, the only inn in the tiny village of Brinbonnet. Gabe had called for dinner to be brought up and currently the food sat on the small writing desk in the corner. The one bed in the room took up the majority of the space. The enormous carved mahogany bed boasted four posters and gauzy curtains that surrounded it. It should have caused her alarm, based on their courtship fantasy on their walk here, but she’d already shared too much of herself for one evening. What was it about Gabe that seemed to penetrate her walls and elicit words and feelings she normally kept buried within herself? Regardless, there was much more at stake than her revealing more of herself than was customary; Isabel was in danger.
Lilith tried to comprehend all of the information they’d gathered, tried to somehow make sense of it. Sweet Isabel was the lost princess of Saldania. It seemed unlikely that whoever was after her wanted to return her to her rightful place on the Saldanian throne, especially since the country’s government had changed so drastically in the last two decades. Gabe was right. Whoever was after Isabel now was English, but for what purpose, to what end? They already had a queen, and it seemed unlikely that anyone would want to replace Victoria with an even younger woman, especially one who hadn’t been raised to rule.
She paced the length of the room.
“Ellis will keep her safe,” Gabe said as if he’d heard her thoughts.
“You said that before.”
He nodded. “I did, but Ellis will know soon what sort of threat we’re dealing with. Once he receives my letter, he will be more prepared. He won’t allow anyone else to take her. I can promise you that.”
She wanted to believe him. Desperately. She also wanted him to pull her close, to hold her and erase some of her fears the way he had the other night. The passion-filled time she’d spent in his bed hadn’t made her forget the danger Isabel was in, but it had given her something else to think about for a short while.
Again as if he’d read her thoughts, he pulled her to him, holding her against his chest. She gave herself to the embrace and relaxed into him. Everything about this moment was precisely what she needed: the strength of his arms wrapped around her, the broad firmness of his chest against her, the scent of his sandalwood enveloping her.
His hungry kiss tore through her, pleading for everything she had to give. Did it matter to her if he wanted her, truly wanted her, or if he just needed the touch of another person the way she did him? Lilith told herself no, that she was a woman of the world. She’d survived a cruel marriage. He continued kissing her, his mouth at times angry as he pressed into her. She fed off his urgency, clung to him, as desire shook through her.
His mouth left hers and began smothering kisses down her throat, across her collarbone and onto the gentle swell of her breasts. With her right hand, she ran her fingers against his chest hair, its prickly texture tickling her palm. She outlined his stomach muscles. They contracted under her touch. He groaned and leaned further into her throat. She wanted to touch him everywhere, memorize every hard line of his body.
He tugged on the back of her dress, and she heard the buttons pop, the fabric giving way as seams tore and the material fell open. Gently, he pushed the sleeves off her shoulders.
“I’ll buy you another.” His voice came out ragged. “I need to see your body again.”
She removed the rest of the dress and slipped out of her shoes so she stood before him in her shift and stockings. He knelt before her and picked up her right foot. With a satin-soft touch, he rolled the stocking down her thigh and over her calf, and then slid it off her foot. He did the same with her other leg.
Wet desire trickled between her legs in response.
A day’s growth had settled onto his face, darkening the shadow on his cheeks, making him look dangerous and so handsome her knees went weak. The makings of his beard scraped against her sensitive flesh.
Again he stood before her. Nuzzling into his neck, she inhaled deeply, trying to impress his scent of sandalwood soap and what she knew as only Gabriel forever in her memory. Gently she kissed the skin there, loving the taste of him and the feel of his skin against her lips. He groaned softly and ran his hands down her arms. Gooseflesh followed his touch, and her nipples hardened.
With one hand, he slid the straps of her shift down her arms until the flimsy material pooled at her feet. He placed his hands on her waist, then slowly caressed his way to her breasts. His warm hands kneaded the sensitive flesh, his touch only fueling her desire. Soon she lay on the bed, bare and unashamed. He stood at the side of the bed, merely looking at her. His muddy green eyes combed the length of her, and a shiver danced across her waiting skin. She wanted to beg him to touch her. Anywhere. The anticipation of his lovemaking caught her breath in a tight grip. She bit down on her lip.
“Do you trust me?” he asked.
It was an odd question considering their current positions. She suspected he only meant the question in reference to the current activities. She answered, “I do.” In that moment she realized it was completely true. She hadn’t trusted anyone save herself in so long, she’d forgotten the freedom in that one simple act. “I do trust you,” she said again.
He untied his cravat and walked around the bed to where her head pressed against the mattress. He slid the silk cravat down her shoulder and between her breasts—the cool fabric as tender as a caress. He climbed onto the bed, straddled her, though he remained fully clothed, except for that cravat.
He leaned down and caught her mouth in a kiss. Passion, fire, heat—he left her breathless, as he had the other night. She’d never known that sex could be this way. In her experience, everything had been fast, guttural, and painful. Of course Thornton had never bothered to try to prepare her body, he’d merely tossed up her skirts and taken what he deemed his “husband rights.” Everything about Gabe was different.
His kiss ended, and he grabbed her hands, pulling them up above her head, held them firmly in place. His eyes met hers, and she lost every thought save how seductive his gaze was.
Still gripping her hands, he whispered, “Trust me.” He wrapped the silk cravat around her wrists and tied them. Her heart pounded, nearly tripping within her chest.
“Why?” she man
aged.
“I want you to let go.” He kissed his way down her throat, across her collarbone, and down to her breasts. He licked and nipped and teased, and she tried to reach for his hair, to run her fingers through the brown locks, but her hands remained tied in place. It was a heady feeling, being restrained for pleasure.
With one swift movement he found her center with his mouth. Oh sweet heaven, she never knew there were such things. Sensations sparked through her body like gunfire as his tongue made its great exploration.
It was hard to determine precisely where his tongue was; the pleasure was too intense and spreading through her so quickly. She bucked against him, and even went so far as to raise one of her legs to brace on his shoulder. The pleasure grew and grew until she was unable to contain her moans, and soon the room echoed with her pants and cries. As his tongue laved across that little nub, his finger slid back inside her, and she felt a jolt shiver through her abdomen.
The feelings were intensifying, and she knew her release was coming. Could feel it rising and building until she was certain she would explode into tiny pieces at any moment.
It crashed over her quickly. Waves and waves of pleasure rocketed through her, and she clutched at his hair. He kissed her tenderly on the thigh, then slid back up her body.
“You are exquisitely beautiful,” he whispered against her hair.
She’d been flattered before, but coming from him, the words seemed to actually hit their mark, as if she were being told for the first time that she was pretty.
He reached up and untied her hands. “I want you to be able to touch me now. Did you enjoy that?”
She wasn’t normally prone to blushing. For one, she rarely got embarrassed, and for another her complexion was darker than most. “I’d be a liar if I said I didn’t.”
He grabbed both her arms and held her to him, then he slammed his mouth down on hers. The sudden kiss alarmed her. Gabe devoured her. His lips were hot and hard against her own, and when his tongue invaded her mouth, she gasped.
