M Is for Marquess

by Grace Callaway

  “You know damn well that you’re mine.” A muscle ticked in his jaw. Reining in his temper, he said deliberately, “Or have you forgotten the carriage ride and that night in the conservatory? The promise you made to do everything that I ask?” Hunger for her gnawed at him, amplifying his frustration.

  Instead of looking flustered, she seemed… impatient.

  “In the bedchamber, yes. But you’re not going to dictate everything else in our relationship. If that’s the kind of marriage you’re envisioning, don’t bother to offer for me.”

  Ice coated his gut. “Is that a threat?”

  “No. It’s a fact.” Her expulsion of breath was slow, deep. “I can’t stand by and do nothing when you’re in danger. Please don’t ask me to.” Her beautiful eyes pleaded with him. “One of your expectations for marriage was trust. That goes both ways.”

  “Trust has nothing to do with this,” he said.

  Out of nowhere, the dark images assailed him, smoke and fire obscuring his path, black waves churning his gut. A body arching over the cliff, falling, too late to reach…

  “Gabriel?”

  Her soft voice brought him back.

  “Devil take it, I can’t put you at risk.” His fists balled. “If you get hurt because of me…”

  “Nothing’s going to happen to me at a society luncheon.” Her gaze searched his. “But this isn’t just about me, is it?”

  He said nothing.

  “Tell me,” she urged. “I want to know. You can trust me.”

  “Marius,” he said finally.

  “You’ve mentioned him before.” Her brow furrowed. “He was your fellow agent. The one who was killed?”

  “Because of me.” Guilt rushed, dark water under ice. “I got him killed.”

  “What happened?” she said softly.

  “After the defeat of Bonaparte, Octavian remained obsessed with hunting down French spies, including the Spectre. He was convinced that they could do harm to England still, and he was like mongrel with a bone.” Gabriel’s lips twisted. “Octavian received information that the Spectre had a lair on the coast of Normandy. He sent the Quorum to capture the spymaster. Pompeia didn’t show.”

  “So that is why there’s bad blood between the two of you?” Thea said.

  He gave a terse nod. “She abandoned us, left us shorthanded on a critical mission. The four of us went in without her. We were ambushed. Marius escaped, but Tiberius, Cicero, and I were captured. Interrogated.” His heart thudded hollowly. “Beaten.”

  “Oh, Gabriel.”

  He didn’t want her sympathy. Now that he’d reopened the wound, all he wanted was to let the festering drain out. “Things would have been a lot worse for us if Marius hadn’t mounted a rescue. He came back. Risked life and limb to save us.”

  “He was a hero,” Thea murmured.

  “Yes. He was the true leader of our group, more of a brother to me than my own had ever been. When I joined the Quorum, he showed me the ropes.”

  Your temper is a liability, Trajan—unless you learn to harness it. How many times had Marius given him that advice? Gabriel’s throat convulsed as his old friend rose in his mind’s eye: a wiry fellow with sandy hair, pale eyes that had seen the worst of the world yet still looked for the best. Even in him.

  “The night of the rescue, Marius broke into the compound and set off explosives. He set us all free, and we fought our way out. Tiberius and Cicero escaped, but I… I was in a blood rage. Even after I thought I killed the Spectre, it wasn’t enough. I wanted all of my enemy dead.”

  “You weren’t in your right mind. After being a prisoner,” Thea whispered, “who would be?”

  “Marius tried to make me leave. Stayed with me, dragged me out of the burning building,” Gabriel said woodenly. “Outside, the enemy surrounded us, and I don’t remember what happened next. Only that I killed them, all of them. And when I thought to look for Marius… it was too late.

  “He was standing at the edge of a cliff. An enemy soldier had cornered him, pointing a pistol at him, and I couldn’t do anything. Couldn’t reach him. I watched him get shot and fall over the precipice.” His fists clenched at his sides. “By the time I’d killed that last bastard, there was no sign of Marius on the rocks below. The waves must have dragged his body out to sea.”

  “Oh, my love.” Thea hugged him around the waist.

  “Marius died because I lost control over my emotions. I lost my head, and my friend paid the ultimate price for it.” Slowly, his arms went around her, absorbing her warmth, letting her honeysuckle sweetness sustain him through the rest. “Around that time, my brother died, and I inherited the title. I decided to focus on my estate and duty. I wanted to put espionage behind me, to never spill another’s blood again. Octavian was not happy with my decision, but I didn’t give a damn. Our parting was not amicable.”

  “God knows you’d given enough to your country.” Thea’s words emerged muffled from against his chest. “And you mustn’t blame yourself for doing your duty as a spy.”

  “I murdered men in cold blood,” he said flatly. “You don’t find that abhorrent?”

  “I find war abhorrent. I find what it does to good men abhorrent.” The golden warmth in her eyes flowed through him. “But never you, Gabriel.”

  He surrounded her face with his palms. “Then don’t put me through hell. If you ever got hurt because of me… it would destroy me, Thea.”

  “But the situations aren’t the same. I’m going to a tea party not an enemy stronghold.” She placed her hands over his. “No one is safe while the Spectre is at large. The best way to protect me is to let me help you catch him.”

  Christ, she had the grace of a princess—and the brain of a barrister.

  “The best way to protect you is to keep you away from harm,” he said.

  “What tower do you plan to lock me into, Gabriel? What place do you know of that the Spectre cannot reach? How will you guard me every moment of every day?”

  Her words struck a deep chord of truth. Released a resonating fear.

  “If you truly want to protect me, then let me go with Pandora and Emma tomorrow to Lady Davenport’s. I promise we’ll be careful… and you can monitor the proceedings if you wish,” she said quickly.

  Her logic battled his denial. Was she right? Was allowing her to participate in the investigation the best way to protect her?

  His spy’s mind analyzed her plan, broke it down to various angles. If he kept watch during her visit to the Davenports—had all entrances to the townhouse monitored—it was unlikely that anything could happen to her or the other two ladies. It was a luncheon, after all. The presence of the other guests would add a layer of safety.

  But he would require more. He looked into Thea’s earnest eyes and came to a decision. He would do everything in his power to keep her safe. Even if it meant trusting in her strength.

  “You will have one hour,” he said. “If you’re not out by then, I will go in and drag you out myself.”

  “Oh, Gabriel, thank—”

  “I will be circling outside in the carriage. I’ll post men at the front and back of the house. If anything so much as feels amiss, I want you to leave immediately.”

  “Of course—”

  “Finally, you’re not going in unarmed,” he said.

  She flung her arms around him. “You won’t regret this, I promise. I’ll carry anything you like. A pistol, knife, explosives—”

  “You don’t need an arsenal.” His lips twitched at her crestfallen expression. “Beginners are more likely to hurt themselves with their weapons than their opponents.”

  Her brow furrowed. “Then how do you plan to arm me?”

  Although it went against his fundamental desire to keep her safe under lock and key, the best protection, he’d concluded, was to teach her how to defend herself. Unbuttoning his jacket, he placed it over the back of the couch.

  “I’m going to show you how to fight, princess,” he said.

  Chapter Tw
enty-Five

  Exhilaration thrummed through Thea as Gabriel led her behind the couches to an empty space in the library. He’d agreed to her plan. He was learning to trust her instead of just pushing her away, and he’d shared more of his painful past. Even as her chest clenched at all the guilt he’d buried, the ordeal that he’d suffered, she also felt a surge of hope. Short of having his love, his trust was the next best thing. Who knew where it would lead?

  We’re making progress. Happiness bubbled inside her as he positioned her at the center of the round Axminster carpet, a vibrant green field abloom with a floral motif.

  Facing her, he said, “What would you do if you were attacked?”

  “Scream for help,” she answered promptly.

  “What if there was no one to hear you?”

  “I’d struggle… and pummel him if necessary.”

  In a flash, he moved. She gasped as she found herself caged, her back against his hard chest, his arm hooked around her neck. Instinctively, she tried to get loose, her hands grasping at the muscular limb that held her captive. It was like trying to lift a fallen column of the Acropolis. Trapped by his superior strength, she could do nothing. She wriggled as haplessly as a pinned butterfly.

  “First lesson: don’t fight an attacker on his terms.” Gabriel’s words warmed the sensitive curve of her ear, and in spite of the situation, sensual awareness shivered over her. “He’s going to be stronger than you physically; trying to match him in brute strength will only waste your energy.”

  It was true. Her strength was draining from her. She stopped squirming.

  “Good. Now can you move my arm?”

  She realized that she was still futilely grabbing onto the sinewy limb around her neck. “No.”

  “Which leads to the second lesson: don’t be predictable. Your attacker will expect you to follow a victim’s instinct, so take him by surprise instead. The best defense can often be an offensive move. Let go of my arm.”

  She let her hands fall to her sides.

  “Now he’s stronger than you, but he’s got his weaknesses as well. You use those against him, along with the element of surprise, and it can buy you precious seconds of freedom. Ready to learn three simple steps?”

  She nodded.

  “First, bring your left elbow back as hard as you can, straight into his solar plexus. He’ll double over or at least be surprised,” Gabriel said. “You then execute the second step: stomp on his foot, aiming for the instep to maximize pain. That should free you of his grip and then you have a choice with the third step.”

  Thea’s mind spun with the startling information. It went against every ladylike behavior that she’d ever been taught. But being a lady wasn’t helpful when it came to dealing with an enemy spy, was it?

  “Choice?” she said.

  “Run or spin around and knee him in the groin.”

  Thea reviewed the steps in her head. “It seems simple enough.”

  “Try it.”

  “But I don’t want to hurt you,” she protested.

  “I’ll be fine.” His voice was dry. “Give it a go, princess.”

  Before she could respond, his arm tightened around her neck. The choking sensation set off an inner alarm. Her hands went immediately to the source of her confinement, but then Gabriel’s instructions kicked in. In a swift movement, she brought her elbow back instead, heard his breath whoosh as she made contact with the wall of muscle. In the next second, she stepped on his foot with all her might. His grip loosened enough for her to whirl around, bring up her knee.

  At the last instant, he deflected her attack with his hands.

  They stood facing each other, their breaths heavy in the air.

  He rubbed his chest, said ruefully, “You’re a quick study.”

  Energy flowed through her. The sizzling sense of power was not unlike what she experienced when Gabriel made love to her. She felt vital, amazingly strong.

  “Show me more,” she said.

  His lips quirked. With a bow, he said, “As you wish.”

  Ten minutes later, she’d practiced several techniques that not only defused an attacker’s strength but used it against him. Gabriel showed her that, with the right leverage and maneuvers, she could defend herself against a larger, stronger opponent. The knowledge empowered her. Brimming with new confidence, she decided to try a variation on the theme. When Gabriel came at her, she ducked and instead of using her elbow as he’d taught her, she stuck out her leg to trip him.

  The world tilted. She found herself flat on her back, her hands pinned above her head, Gabriel’s muscled length crushing her into the silky carpet. Panting, she stared dazedly up into his face.

  His eyes glinted. “Nice try, princess. Here’s a final lesson: being overconfident can land you in trouble.”

  She became aware of the heavy weight of his manhood against her thigh, the heat rushing beneath the surface of her own skin. With startling speed, battle fever transformed into desire. Arousal sparked along her every nerve.

  “Maybe I have you just where I want you,” she said daringly.

  His nostrils flared. “Is that so?”

  With her hands trapped, she couldn’t use them to touch him. So instead she softened beneath him, welcoming his weight, cradling his body with hers. His response to her surrender was immediate: his pupils enlarged, his cock an iron bar pressing through the layers of her skirts.

  “Don’t move,” he said. “Keep your hands where they are.”

  She stilled, the erotic command in his tone causing her temperature to soar. He was once again her masterful lover, his features carved with stark intensity. Perhaps given his recent capitulations to her, he needed to reinstate his dominance in other ways. She would gladly give him whatever he wanted. Indeed, she yearned for their sensual connection… but a niggling voice reminded her that they were in the library, the midday sun streaming through the tall windows.

  Breathlessly, she said, “Anyone could come in—”

  “We’re hidden behind the couches. Now hush and let me have my way with you.”

  Her nipples strained against the confines of her corset as his touch roved in a proprietary path down her body, and she lay there, brazenly stretched out for his perusal. Her lungs seized when he pushed her skirts and petticoats up in one swift motion. Air wafted against her stockinged calves, her bare thighs, her damp and aching sex. His shoulders wedged up against the back of her legs, spreading her wide. She trembled as he held her open and vulnerable, gazing at her with ravening hunger in his eyes.

  “My wanton princess,” he murmured, “I’ve been dreaming of this.”

  He lowered his head.

  Oh my goodness.

  Shock and pleasure spiked through her. This was unthinkable. Unspeakable. What he was doing with his tongue… She had to bite back a moan.

  “You taste like nectar,” he said thickly. “Give me your sweetness, love. I want it all.”

  Resistance dissolved in a honeyed rush. She gazed up dreamily at the plasterwork on the ceiling as his mouth claimed her. Cherubs frolicked amongst flowers as he wickedly licked, suckled, and consumed her sex. Lift yourself to my mouth. Let me feast on what is mine. Her head lolled against the carpet as sensation after sensation swamped her. She felt him part her humid folds, his tongue skillfully gliding to her eager peak.

  Ecstasy swelled and broke. Pleasure spilled inside her like a bowl full of sugar, sweetness scattering into every nook and cranny. She lay there, boneless, steeped in bliss and sunlight.

  “Time to get up.” His voice drifted through her stupor.

  Languidly, she thought she probably ought to do so… if she could figure out how to get her limbs to move. Then the world shifted, and she found herself on her feet, Gabriel’s arm steadying her around the waist. Her hands came to rest against his waistcoat, feeling his strong heartbeat as he set her to rights.

  “Good as new,” he said.

  He gave her a gentle, almost courtly kiss. She tasted herself on hi
s lips, and despite her satiated state, sensual awareness rippled through her.

  Glancing down, she saw his bulging arousal. “You didn’t…”

  He donned his jacket with studied carelessness, the charcoal superfine covering the affected area. “Today it was my pleasure to see to yours. At a time of my choosing, you will see to mine.”

  Said with utterly male confidence, his words sent intriguing possibilities flashing through her head. She blushed—it was amazing that she could still do so after what had just transpired on the library floor. Even more amazing was how perfectly civilized he looked, with nary a hair out of place, his cravat pristinely knotted. He was every inch the proper Angel—unless one looked in his eyes.

  Dark grey and devilish, they gleamed with satisfaction.

  “We’d better go.” He offered her his arm. “I think you’ve had enough lessons for the day, hmm?”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Why the hell did I allow this?

  The next day, the question circled in Gabriel’s mind just as his carriage was circling the block of the Davenport residence. He saw nothing untoward about the Palladian mansion, yet his gut was knotted with tension. Around the corner, his conveyance pulled to a stop. The door opened, and Strathaven stepped in. Under the pretense of taking a stroll, the other had been surveying the townhouse up close.

  Scowling, the duke dropped onto the opposite seat, tossing his hat onto the cushions. He parted the curtain, his pale gaze centered on the quiet house. “All I saw through the window was a gaggle of ladies gossiping over tea. No sign of Emma and the others. They’re probably searching the place.”

  At the thought of Thea prowling through the premises like a seasoned agent, the knots in Gabriel tightened. “Devil take it, I can’t believe I let her talk me into this.”

  “Trust me, I know the feeling. But if you intend to marry Dorothea,”—the duke arched a brow—“you might as well get used to it.”

  “Of course I intend to marry her.” Moodily, Gabriel rubbed the back of his neck. “As soon as this affair with the Spectre is over, I’ll talk to Kent. Or you, I suppose.”