by Anna Randol
Although he’d been staring at the newspaper for the past fifteen minutes, he hadn’t actually read any of it. He scanned it, hurriedly searching for something of interest. “You’re mentioned.”
Madeline leaned toward him. “Really? What does it say?”
Gabriel had to fight not to peer down her bodice. His mother was sitting two feet away, for pity’s sake. Her eyes met his with a sparkle and he had the disturbing feeling that she was enjoying his internal struggle.
“That Miss V was attacked by some young miscreants and aided by the heroic Viscount L.”
“Yes, if he hadn’t offered his coach, I surely would have drowned. It’s good to see the praise go to those deserving it.”
The side of Gabriel’s lip edged upward. He didn’t care that he wasn’t mentioned in the story. But he did like that Madeline seemed to take issue with the discrepancy.
“So has Gabriel always been this astonishingly heroic?” Madeline asked.
Gabriel hoped his mother would recognize his quelling look. He didn’t want the conversation to turn to him. He needed it to revolve around Madeline. But his mother either didn’t see or ignored him.
Madeline, however, noted it with a smirk.
“Shall I guess? Did he bring home pigeons with broken wings? No, that wouldn’t be quite right. Did he soundly beat any and all neighborhood bullies?”
His mother chuckled. “Actually, he was rather bookish as a child.” Gabriel again tried to catch his mother’s attention. What happened to her intention to discover the truth about Madeline’s wounded past?
But his mother continued. “But he did always protect his sister. Once, when they were seven, Susan claimed her kitten had eaten the biscuits missing from the tea tray. Gabriel interrupted, explaining all the reasons why it was impossible for the cat to have been the culprit. But then she started to cry so Gabriel claimed responsibility and took the punishment.”
Susan had looked so betrayed when he undercut her argument, he’d had no choice. But it had been a ridiculous story. As if her kitten could have opened the nursery door and gone to the kitchen to eat the treats.
“Did you ever have a pet, Madeline?” his mother asked.
Gabriel exhaled. The conversation was back where it belonged.
A small, wistful smile drifted over Madeline’s face. “No. We couldn’t have fed one.”
Damnation, now in addition to the lust, he had to battle pictures of a forlorn, hungry young Madeline longing for a kitten.
Madeline glanced at him and her introspective gaze vanished. Her lips were transformed by the same smile she gave her suitors. “Perhaps that was fortunate. There were times when we would have eaten the poor thing.”
His mother placed her arm around Madeline’s shoulders. “Is that why you thought up the auction? I must admit I find the idea of your auction quite ingenious.”
Madeline’s expression froze. Gabriel thought it was discomfort. After all, his mother’s propensity for ambushing her friends with affection took time to accustom oneself to.
But then he noticed the slight flaring of her nostrils. She wasn’t embarrassed—she was terrified, tense as a deer about to take flight. “I found myself with few resources other than beauty.”
“But you’ve been quite intelligent about the whole thing. I quite admire that about you.”
To keep from staring dumbstruck at his mother, Gabriel stirred his tea. Had she just complimented Madeline on turning to a life of prostitution?
Madeline rose to her feet, freeing herself from his mother’s hug. She hurried to the side table and poured herself a cup of coffee. “Thank you, although I don’t suppose it’s something I should accept compliments on.” Despite her haste to the coffeepot, she added her sugar and cream with leisurely care.
The woman had been stabbed, drowned, and nearly set on fire without a single flinch, yet his mother’s touch sent her fleeing.
Perhaps he’d learned something of use about her this morning, after all. Unfortunately, without more context, he wasn’t entirely sure what.
Madeline returned to her seat, subtly scooting the chair a few inches from his mother as she sat.
“Who are your top bidders?” his mother asked.
Madeline wanted to kick Gabriel in the shins and knock the panicked message from his face. Did he think her an absolute monster? She wasn’t about to tell his mother that her former lover was one of the top bidders. “I haven’t heard today. But Viscount Lenton is high on the list, as is Gabriel’s friend, the Earl of Danbury.”
Gabriel’s mother leaned in, her blue eyes glinting. “I haven’t seen him since they were at Oxford. Is Lenton as handsome and charming as Danbury?”
Madeline didn’t know what to think or how to act for the first time in years. Why was his mother friendly toward her? Distracted, Madeline had to think to remember either man’s face. “I haven’t spoken to Danbury so I can’t compare his charm, but Lenton is definitely dashing.”
“A suitable bed partner then?”
Gabriel made an odd, sputtering sound to her left.
His mother shook her head. “You’re welcome to cover your ears, dear.”
“Either of them would be adequate.” Madeline wasn’t quite sure what to say. She hadn’t had a mother in ten years and she didn’t need one. Even if she was tempted—which she wasn’t—she had no idea what she should confide to another woman.
“Only adequate?”
If his mother hoped for romance to blossom from the auction, she’d be sadly disappointed. “As decadent as this auction might seem, it’s business, nothing more.”
“Your mother’s no longer alive, is she?”
“No.”
“Then let me tell you something I’m sure she would have.”
Madeline would have paid a good amount of money to watch Gabriel’s face as his mother explained what happened between men and women in bed, but she couldn’t shake the fear she might blush as well. “I’m well aware of what to expect.”
“Physically, yes, I suspect you are. But have you considered the emotional aspect?”
Madeline shifted, uncomfortable. “There isn’t one. That’s the whole point.”
“But there will be. He’ll be your first. That isn’t something you’ll be able to take lightly. He’ll stay with you.” Her brows knitted together. “I will confide something to you. The situation between myself and Gabriel’s father—”
“Gabriel told me.”
Her brows lifted almost to her hairline. “Indeed? Well, that will make things simpler. Even though it only happened once. He’s with me every time I climb into bed. In my thoughts whenever I see a man and a woman together in the streets. But since we loved each other desperately, I don’t mind him.”
Gabriel’s hands tightened on the edge of the table. As Madeline reached for her tea, she glanced more fully at him. His face was expressionless, but red darkened his cheekbones.
“I cannot imagine what it would be like to have a stranger in my thoughts for the rest of my life,” Beatrice said.
Far too many men already crowded in Madeline’s head for her to worry about one more. “I appreciate your concern.” And she did truly. But she should be out driving in the park or flirting with potential bidders. Instead, she was sitting in a breakfast parlor. All because for the first time in ten years, she felt like a person. Not a spy.
Gabriel’s mother patted her on the cheek. “In other words, keep your nose out of my business, old woman.”
Madeline shook her head. “I didn’t—”
She waved her hand in dismissal. “I know you didn’t. Just keep it in mind. What would your mother have told you?”
Madeline could still feel the warmth of the older woman’s hand on her face. Her confusion only increased. “To be practical at all costs.”
More than that, she’d taught Madeline that emotions couldn’t fill an empty belly.
The air roughened until Madeline couldn’t draw in a smooth breath. Beatrice must ha
ve noticed, and she reached out to enfold Madeline in another hug.
Madeline spoke quickly. Anything to save her from being smothered by whatever emotion threatened to crush her. “My mother knew she was dying. After our rent, we barely had money for food. There was never any extra to save. So she made arrangements with the resurrection men.” Madeline sucked in a breath at the memory of the filthy, hard-eyed man who’d agreed to buy her mother’s body so he could sell it to the medical school. Mr. Hurke had fit his profession, his person as dark and moldering as the graves he robbed. “She arranged to sell her corpse to provide for me. She made me promise to tell them the same hour she died. They preferred the bodies fresh.” Madeline shuddered. Despite her promise, it had taken her two hours to gather the strength to inform Mr. Hurke that he could collect the body. She almost didn’t go, but her new position as an assistant seamstress wouldn’t pay until she’d learned the trade. She’d been left with little choice.
All her mother had asked in return was that Madeline be good. Despair uncoiled in Madeline’s stomach, writhing and twisting.
She had managed for two weeks.
Madeline lurched to her feet, her chair scraping behind her. Gabriel and his mother stared at her with identical stunned expressions.
She stumbled on the hem of the dress as she hurried toward the door. “I apologize. I’m not as recovered as I’d hoped.” She knew the lie would fool no one, but she didn’t care.
Madeline fled before she revealed anything else.
She heard Gabriel on the stairs behind her, but refused to acknowledge him. She didn’t want his pity. She hurried into her room, but his boot stopped the door before she could push it closed.
“I’m finished talking, Gabriel.”
He forced the door open and stepped inside. “My mother’s worried about you. She’s always been the nurturing type, but ever since Susan was murdered, she’s been unable to resist anyone she sees as a stray chick. She never meant to upset you.”
“It isn’t her fault I’m a ninny.”
He reached toward her cheek but she flinched. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. Now leave.” She spun away, loath to have him read anything on her face.
His hands grasped her shoulders. “How old were you?”
“Fourteen.”
His thumbs rubbed slow circles on the base of her neck and she wanted to slap him away as much as she wanted to lean back into him and accept the comfort he offered. Confound it, how had she let herself become such a mess?
Gabriel rotated her until she faced him. Madeline schooled her expression into the look of amused boredom she knew would infuriate Gabriel.
Anything would be better than the pity on his face.
“Did you like that story? I was perfect, wasn’t I? It would make you forgive anything about me, wouldn’t it?”
Gabriel’s hands tightened on her shoulders, but he didn’t roar or thrust her away as she’d hoped. “The story was true.”
Madeline laughed even though it burned like glass cutting her throat. “I did do a convincing job.”
“Because it was the truth.” His fingers traced her arched brow and the mocking curve of her lips. “This is the lie.”
Her smile trembled under the delicious friction of his finger, but she held it constant. “Why do you think that?”
“A thousand little things. Little flaws that the woman you’re pretending to be would never allow, but the real woman cannot hide.”
“I think my suitors would call you out for saying I have any flaws.” But she couldn’t keep her heart from thudding in her chest. When had she allowed him close enough to notice?
“That’s because they want a pretty face in bed.”
And that was precisely what she intended to give them. The rest of her wasn’t for sale. “And you, Gabriel? What do you want?”
“To be put in an asylum, apparently.” He lowered his mouth.
Although Madeline would never have admitted it aloud, she’d thought a time or two—or seven or eight—about what Gabriel’s kiss would be like. She’d finally decided he’d be as dark and deliberate with his mouth as he was with his temperament. She thought he’d take charge and drive the kiss in the direction he desired.
Instead, his lips barely brushed hers. If she had flinched, the contact would have been broken. But she couldn’t. Heaven help her, she couldn’t.
His hands slid from her face and dragged down her spine, pulling her flush against him. Then he waited, his lips hovering over hers.
She’d never had a man hesitate to claim her. As inept or inexperienced as they might be, no matter what they had planned for the bedroom, they wasted no time plundering her lips. Did Gabriel seek permission? Madeline’s heart tripped a beat. Or some sort of taunting revenge? That made more sense. That she could understand. Did he think to make her beg for a proper kiss?
But she couldn’t. She couldn’t beg any more than she could walk out of a house without her knife.
With a growl, Madeline closed the gap. If it was permission he wanted, it had just been granted. If it was revenge, he’d soon find it to be hers rather than his.
Her mouth pressed against him. For a moment she feared her desperation would be terrifyingly obvious, but then Gabriel matched her intensity and her fears evaporated, burned away as heat burst through her, hot and demanding. She’d kissed dozens upon dozens of men but never had it consumed her, robbing her of the ability to think, reason, breathe.
Soon the pressure of his lips wasn’t enough. She wanted to taste him, to fill her senses with the flavor of his mouth and the rasp of his skin.
She flicked her tongue across his lower lip, reveling in the masculine taste of him. Even if she kissed a hundred more men, she’d never be able to mistake him for anyone else.
His hand tangled in the hair at the base of her neck, and his tongue swept hers with a lazy caress then continued on to explore the delicate recesses of her mouth until she could no longer remember which of her carefully perfected motions would bring him to his knees. All she could think about was—more, faster, harder.
Madeline clung to him, her fingers molding to the hard muscles of his shoulders as pleasure hammered through her, stealing the strength from her knees.
Her hips began to shift, driven by the tension building between her legs. The motion pressed the evidence of Gabriel’s arousal against her stomach. The knowledge of her effect on him only inflamed her more. She knew she had the power to arouse men, but that meant nothing compared to the knowledge that she could arouse Gabriel. She rubbed against him, relishing the guttural moan that rumbled in his chest.
She wanted no one else. No one but him. No one—Madeline ripped her lips from his, the words echoing in her ears.
There would be someone else.
Madeline stepped back. Gabriel didn’t try to stop her. She smoothed a crease from her skirt, lingering over the movement until her breathing surrendered to her control. “That’s one way to avoid answering a question.”
Gabriel scrubbed his hand over his face. “Damn it, Madeline. Don’t turn what just happened into a jest. It wasn’t for me and it wasn’t for you.”
She opened her mouth to scoff, but he gripped her shoulders, his fingers insistent on her flesh. “Your lie won’t work.” His knuckle skimmed up her neck to the point just below her ear where her pulse still fluttered. “Your body tells the truth.”
“Perhaps it’s like that every time I kiss.”
“Is it?” Gabriel demanded. “Shall we try again and see if the outcome is the same?”
Madeline wrenched herself from his grasp. “No.”
“Then tell me that kiss was different.”
“No!”
He caught her around the waist, drawing her toward him, his lips lowering. “Tell me.”
She couldn’t live through another kiss, not if she wished to retain her sanity. She twisted free. “Very well! A kiss has never affected me that way before. I’m at a loss to explain
it. Does that satisfy you?”
Gabriel’s lips curved into a wolfish smile and his eyes focused again on her mouth. “In part.”
But she stepped away again, reminding herself that physical desire meant nothing. “I promised you nothing would come of this, remember? Please send for my coach.”
After all, he might claim to see her flaws, but he hadn’t seen the worst of them. Otherwise he never would have kissed her.
Chapter Nineteen
As they descended the stairs to the waiting coach, Madeline’s expression was bland, her manner pleasant. She’d thanked his mother prettily for her hospitality and made light of her scene in the breakfast parlor. She didn’t flinch when his mother hugged her tightly and wished her luck. She neither avoided nor sought out Gabriel’s gaze.
If it wasn’t for the residual heat pumping through Gabriel’s veins, he might have believed that he’d imagined the kiss.
But he hadn’t. There was no way in hell he could have imagined a kiss like that. It defied everything in his experience.
He lifted her into the vehicle, his hand tingling as it reunited with the supple curve of her lower back. Yet he didn’t allow his hand to linger.
Madeline sat in the middle of the forward-facing seat, leaving no space for him on either side of her.
“Eager to escape?” he asked as the coachman urged the horses into a trot.
Patches of sunlight drifted over Madeline’s face as she gazed out the window. “Your mother is a dear.” The corner of her mouth nudged upward. “The poor thing. The first woman you bring home is a courtesan.”
He wanted to explore that adorable smile with his lips—no, he did not. He wasn’t thinking of kisses. Completely out of his thoughts. “She seemed to like you in spite of that. Do you plan to accept her invitation for tea next week?”
“I might. I liked her.”
“I thought she made you uncomfortable.”
Madeline’s expression settled into more serious lines. “Her effusiveness surprised me, nothing more.”
“Nothing more?”
Her pointed look gave him her response.
