by Anna Randol
When he opened his mouth to reply, she shifted her attention back to the other gentlemen.
Every time Billingsgate attempted to enter the conversation, she redirected the conversation, never giving him more than a cursory glance.
Gabriel murmured in her ear. “You are driving away your suitor.”
“Precisely.” Why did he care?
“Perhaps you shouldn’t be so hasty.”
“I would like a word, Madeline.” Billingsgate’s growing annoyance showed in the tightness of his jaw.
“That was already more than one word wasn’t it?” she said.
The men around them laughed at her sally, and Billingsgate’s face darkened. With a scowl, he stalked from the group.
She risked a brief glance at Gabriel. But for the first time, he wasn’t watching her, he was trailing after Billingsgate.
So she turned to Viscount Lenton and offered him her hand. “My noble knight. I believe this is your dance?”
The chain mail Lenton wore rattled as he pulled her close for the waltz. “I’m glad to see you suffered no ill effects from the river yesterday.”
Thanks to Gabriel. When her eyes would have searched for him, she fixed a blinding smile on Lenton. “Thank you for the use of your coach afterward.”
“How do you know who I am?”
Because he held his arms stiffly at his sides when he walked and had a tendency to scratch his nose when nervous. She leaned in close, her lips grazing his ear as she spoke. “As if I could mistake you for any other.”
She flinched back as soon as she made contact, the caress feeling just as wrong as her interaction with Danbury. Annoyed at herself, she trailed her finger down Lenton’s tabard. She’d never needed anything more than determination to seduce a man.
Lenton, thankfully, didn’t notice her discomfort. He preened. “Well, my goddess, what is your preferred method of worship?”
From the corner of her eye, she could see Gabriel tracking her around the perimeter of the floor. Madeline licked her lips. “I’m the Goddess of the Hunt. Perhaps I like to be pursued.” She clenched her teeth at her line of thought. But not by Gabriel.
“Ah, then I shall follow you to the ends of the earth.”
An intricate spin brought her within inches of where Gabriel stood. If she’d reached out, her fingers would have grazed his chest. Even without touching him, a tingle started in the tips of her hands.
“I—” For the first time since she’d started the auction, she found herself struggling for a seductive retort. “I would be most pleased,” she finished lamely. She compensated by pressing her body flush against Lenton, despite the links of armor jabbing her in uncomfortable places.
He led them to the edge of the dance floor. “Then grant me permission to take you to a temple and worship you properly.”
Madeline caught herself glancing over her shoulder and estimating how many seconds until Gabriel arrived. Enough. She wasn’t here to woo Gabriel. “Permission granted.” She followed him through the crowd, until they reached one of the small temples.
Lenton grinned. “Let me ensure it’s unoccupied by lesser deities, goddess.” He climbed the two stairs to the silk-covered doorway.
An arm clamped around Madeline’s waist, the loose black sleeves of a domino covering a strong, male arm.
Her light rebuke died in her throat as the arm crushed her waist.
“You think no one knows what you really are.” A deep voice rumbled, so deep and gravelly she knew the man was disguising his voice. He also spoke in French, but he was not French. That she was sure of. “But I have plans for you.” He thrust her forward with sudden violence. She gasped as a piece of her hair snagged on something and ripped from her head.
Madeline stumbled, barely lifting her arms in time to keep her face from smashing into the side of the temple.
“Good heavens, Madeline, whatever—”
Madeline didn’t hear the rest of Lenton’s concern. She spun around, trying to identify the man who’d threatened her.
But black dominoes dotted the tightly pressed crowd.
Curse it all. Why did so many men of the ton have to be unimaginative and wear the same blasted robes? Three men in dominoes were closer to her than the others, but they all appeared to be involved with other guests.
Lenton fluttered ineffectually in front of her, blocking her view. “Are you all right?”
Madeline laughed. “Someone stumbled against me and I lost my balance.” But then she spotted Gabriel rushing onto the terrace. She winced dramatically. “Oh, I have a splinter in my finger.” When Lenton tried to examine it, she tucked it protectively against her. “Please, would you fetch a maid to help me remove it?” Madeline smiled for good measure. “How lucky that you’re always nearby when I need rescuing.”
With a clink of chain mail, Lenton straightened and set off on his heroic errand.
Madeline followed Gabriel onto the terrace.
Gabriel pursued the billowing black cloak into the labyrinth of gardens surrounding Lady Wheeler’s home. The man had accosted Madeline. He intended to find out who he was and why.
But he must have seen Gabriel trailing him because as soon as he’d escaped to the terrace, he’d taken off at a run
Away from the bonfire, the paths darkened. He lost sight of the man as the fellow rounded a corner ahead of him. Gabriel quickened his chase, but then swore as he reached the intersection. Three paths branched off in different directions. Gabriel froze, still and silent as he listened for a noise to indicate the direction his target had taken.
Nothing.
A tiny snap sounded behind him.
Gabriel pivoted around, right fist already flying toward his assailant. He registered a white toga and feminine form in the same instant he realized he wouldn’t have time to stop his punch.
Madeline thrust her arm upward, deflecting his attack, and ducked under his arm.
Gabriel wrenched himself back. “Bloody hell!” He’d almost flattened her. Or perhaps more precisely, should have. His eyes narrowed. Her response had been instinctive and efficient. In fact, better than that—it was experienced.
She removed her mask and dropped it in the bushes next to them.
“Which way?” she asked. She didn’t sound in the least winded despite the air bellowing in his lungs. “Did you—”
He held a finger to his lips and she instantly fell silent, the utter stillness of a cat on the hunt. Gabriel slowly turned his head, listening to the different angles.
Leaves rustled down the center path.
Gabriel jerked his head and sprinted in that direction. Madeline kept pace beside him in her oddly noiseless lope.
Five cloaked men scrambled onto the path. “What’s she doing here already?” one shouted. The barrel of a pistol shone in the hand of the man directly in front of them.
Gabriel lifted his arm to shove Madeline from the path, but she dove to one side, tucking into a neat roll that brought her cleanly to her feet behind the cover of a tree.
The gun jerked sloppily in her direction.
Desperate to draw the fire away from Madeline, Gabriel lunged in the other direction, taking the meager cover offered by a row of rosebushes.
Suddenly, a man shrieked and the gun fired. As the bullet hammered into the trunk of an oak tree, the gunman collapsed to the ground, a knife protruding from his forearm.
The gunshot launched the other men into action. One man fled into the garden. Two scrambled toward Madeline.
The last attacker advanced on Gabriel. With a quick elbow to a hooded head, Gabriel felled him before he lunged across the narrow expanse of gravel to aid Madeline.
One assailant was attempting to lift her around the waist, but she went limp and the man stumbled under the sudden increased weight. As he struggled to regain his balance, she flung her head back, slamming it into his face.
The last man charged her but Gabriel kicked out, knocking him to the rocky path with a satisfying crunch. The fa
llen man rocked side to side on the ground, moaning almost as loudly as the man who’d been stabbed. “Confound it, Haines. You said this was going to be a lark. I should have known your planning was as poor as your meter.”
Gabriel met Madeline’s eyes in the darkness. In unison, they ripped off the gunman’s hood.
The ashen face of Timothy Haines, poet and imbecile, gawked up at them. Gabriel grabbed him by the front of his robe and hauled him to his feet. “Kidnapping is a hanging offense.”
Haines would have collapsed if Gabriel hadn’t still had hold of him. “I—I wasn’t trying to kidnap her. She belongs with me.”
With an exhale of disgust, Gabriel let the man drop back to the ground.
“Madeline and I are meant to be together.”
The man was a raving bedlamite. Gabriel’s thoughts must have shown on his face because Haines switched to addressing Madeline directly.
“I know you’re trapped by this auction and this brute at your side. I only wanted to save you. Come away with me.”
“I need my knife back,” Madeline said.
“I thought the Runner had thrown—”
Madeline studied him for a moment, then reached down and pulled the knife from his arm with a swift yank.
Haines screamed, gripping the wound.
She wiped the blood on Haines’s robe and replaced the blade in a golden sheath at her waist. “He’s not the man from the ballroom.”
Gabriel stepped on the corner of Haines’s robe when he would have crawled away like the rest of his helpers. “You’re sure?”
She poked at Haines with her toe. “The other man’s hand was clean.”
Beneath the blood on Haines’s hands were dark splotches of ink.
“Damn.”
Madeline nodded in agreement.
“I’m bleeding to death. One of you fetch me a surgeon!” Haines’ voice was strained and definitely peevish.
Gabriel allowed him to stand. “No need. One of the prison doctors can stitch it up.”
“Prison, I can’t— Madeline, tell him there’s no need for that.”
Madeline laid her hand on Gabriel’s arm. “He’s right. He’s leaving the country, after all.”
Haines’s triumph turned to surliness. “What? I most certainly am not. Why would—”
Madeline’s demeanor was cold and merciless. Haines retreated toward Gabriel as she advanced. “Because if you do not, tomorrow morning on my ride around the park, I’ll have one of your poems with me. By the time I finish one circuit of the park, your poem will be a farce. By the second, your name will be synonymous with worthless poetic tripe.”
Haines’ breath came fast and shallow. “You wouldn’t. You—”
“The Regent is most fond of a good chuckle.”
“Fine. I’ve always wanted to go to Vienna. The English don’t have the necessary temperament for true art.” He pulled away from Gabriel. “And its whores get above themselves.”
Gabriel sent him sprawling with a punch to the jaw. Did the fool not realize that Madeline had just saved him from the gallows?
Madeline eyed Haines with distaste. “Shall we go?” she asked taking Gabriel’s arm.
He nodded, but paused next to Haines first. “You leave tomorrow. Or I’ll know about it.”
They left Haines, whimpering and cursing behind them.
The weight of Madeline’s hand tucked around Gabriel’s arm felt right and, at the same time, novel. She’d always been concerned with ensuring no one thought there was anything between them.
She must be more shaken than she appeared.
Gabriel placed his hand over hers, enjoying her light touch and ensuring she didn’t escape before she’d answered his questions.
He led her to a hidden alcove containing a marble fountain that he’d passed during his pursuit. It was secluded, dark, and a distance from the lighted paths. No one would disturb them. “I thought you might wish to clean up before returning to the masquerade.” He pulled a twig and then a leaf from her disheveled curls.
She glanced down at her toga, dusty and rumpled from her dive into the shrubbery. “Lovely.” She sighed and reached up to run her fingers through her hair.
Gabriel exhaled through clenched teeth as her hair whispered over her neck and shoulders in a curtain of gleaming chestnut silk. His blood surged hot and fast and demanded he act on the seductive vision she presented.
But she spoke before he was fool enough to do so. “The man in the ballroom threatened me.”
The simple statement refocused him. “Did you recognize him?”
“No, he disguised his voice.” She threaded her fingers through her hair again, loosening other bits of greenery. “Last time he left a note.”
“What last time?”
“Shortly after the auction began, I received a note threatening me.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Your protection was supposed to be for appearances only, if you recall.” Madeline dipped her fingers in the water, then scrubbed at a smear of dirt on her arm.
“You have been stabbed, threatened, and thrown in a river. I think we’re past that.”
“I agree. That’s why I’m telling you now. I never intended for you to be in danger. I thought I could handle it on my own.”
Gabriel stepped closer and ran his finger through the glistening droplets on her arm. Even if she could defend herself like a trained fighter, he couldn’t leave her to fight alone. He intended to keep her safe and that required answers. “Who are you, Madeline?”
His question was intense, but for the first time, lacked the harsh demand he normally used. Rather than a Runner interrogating a suspect, he was a man asking a woman.
Perhaps he did have a right to know. Rather than the imbecilic Haines, it could have been the man from her past coming to kill her. If Gabriel didn’t know what to expect, the amount of expertise and threat, it could cost him his life.
Madeline stared at the finger tracing circles on her arm. A slight swelling marred the first two knuckles where his fist had connected with Haines’s jaw. It was altogether a nice, masculine hand, but there was no reason it should hold such sway over her.
Oh, but it did.
Heat spread from his finger up her arm and down into her breasts. She’d felt this warmth many times before, but never had it terrified her as it did now. Her anger and hurt from earlier had been left discarded in the pile of injured dandies behind them, leaving her with little to shield herself.
“Who taught you to do what you just did?” he asked. “Forgive my arrogance, but I fight well. Yet I suspect your skill trumps my own.”
“It does.”
A slight smile curved his lips. “And I worried about my arrogance.”
Not arrogance, honesty. She’d been trained by the best and had spent ten years honing her craft. “What betrayed me?”
“Dozens of things.”
Madeline felt her spine stiffen. Surely not dozens. She refused to believe she’d been that careless. “Such as?”
Gabriel smiled slightly as if amused by her challenge. “First of all, these betrayed you.” His thumb slid over her eyelid and then circled back to the ridge of her cheekbone. “You see too clearly. You notice things about people they think hidden. You note things that would have passed by anyone else.”
“That has nothing to do with my fighting.”
“But it has everything to do with the puzzle you present, of which your fighting skills play a large part. Now, don’t interrupt.” His thumb dragged over her mouth with exquisite lethargy, and she clenched her teeth to keep from licking it. “This betrayed you as well. You’re witty. But it’s not just charm, no more than the sails of a ship are just pieces of cloth. Every comment has a purpose.” His hand trailed down her neck to the edge of the toga. After lingering there a moment, he cupped her breast through the fabric, gently kneading. “Next, only a fool would fail to take note of this.” Madeline’s nipple tightened and gooseflesh spread over he
r arms.
Gabriel continued to caress, and with each squeeze, she pressed herself more firmly into his hand. “Your body is your weapon of choice. You know a man longs to draw these taunting little nipples into his mouth.” His hand traced down her side to her hip, skimming his hand over the swell of it, then explored the sensitive curve of her bottom. “You know this coy asset flaunts itself with every step. But not only do you know it, you rely on it, driving men mad with lust and making a fortune seem a mere pittance for the chance to claim you. You know the precise angle to hold your head. The most seductive curve for your lips.”
“Any whore knows that.”
Gabriel set her back, the hooded seduction in his eyes gone. “Do not call yourself that.”
“But it’s fine if you say it?” Apparently, she hadn’t left all the earlier hurt behind her.
A muscle flicked at the corner of Gabriel’s jaw. “I was wrong. It will never happen again.”
Madeline shrugged, wishing her question unsaid. “I can hardly be angry. It is the truth.”
Gabriel shook his head, as if his determination would be enough to make it so. “No. It’s what you want everyone to think is the truth. But I don’t believe it, and I should never have said it, not even in anger. No matter your past actions, you’re not a whore.”
If only Gabriel’s version of things was correct. However, she’d earned the title fairly.
“Forgive me, Madeline.”
Madeline would have defied any woman to resist the regret that hollowed his green eyes. And even though he had nothing to apologize for, she couldn’t resist it, either.
Refusing to linger in the suffocating warmth created by his words, she nodded. “You’ve yet to convince me you noticed anything unusual about my skills.”
She should have been wary at the slight lowering of his lids, the banked desire that returned to his gaze, but wanton that she was, she gloried in it.
“Seduction is only your body’s most obvious tactic.” He raised the hem of her toga and heated the flesh of her thighs with his palms. “But not its only skill. You walk with the stealth of a cat.” His hands surged upward, pulling her skirt with them. The breeze twined around her naked thighs. “You know how to throw a knife. You roll better than the acrobats in the ballroom. You know how to fell a man with a few simple moves. You don’t think in a fight, you react like a trained soldier.”
