by Danice Allen
All in white, her reclining figure appeared as a snow-covered slope of hill and dale—slim hips and a small uncorseted waist creating an undulating human landscape. Dark-gold unbound hair cascaded over her shoulders and down her back, and a faint floral scent mingled with the earthy smoke smell of a peat fire…
Oh, Gawd Orchids!
Dread, mixed with a slightly delirious impression of impending laughter, descended on Zach. It was impossible, wasn’t it? Other women had hair like hers and used a floral scent. It couldn’t be Gabby! He’d left her safe and sound at Charlotte Square! But she had expressed an earnest wish to visit that family she’d met on Christmas Eve, and Zach had made no secret out of the fact that he frequented Old Town on business. Knowing Gabby, knowing her curiosity and her stubborn refusal to be deterred by conventions or prudence, she might have ventured into Old Town to try to find the Tuttles. Or she might have even followed him that afternoon and somehow got lost, later to be found and tricked into such a dangerous situation by the devious Mother Henn. Leave it to Gabby…
Zach still stood with his back pressed against the door, beads of sweat forming on his brow. He had only to walk a few feet into the room to discover if his suspicions had any validity. He might be surprised and relieved to find a strange face belonging to the alarmingly familiar shape on the bed. But somehow he knew that that would not be the case. He knew it was Gabby, but he was reluctant to confirm that fact.
Suddenly she moaned and moved on the bed, one arm falling over the edge, her body perilously close to following in a slow and heavy roll. Zach was spurred to action, pushing away from the door. She might hurt herself tumbling off the bed, the little shatterbrain! Then, as he moved toward her, all the implications of Gabby’s situation flooded his mind. A fall off the bed was nothing compared to what she might have already endured! Of a certainty, Mother Henn and her goons had humiliated and manhandled her. But if they’d done more than that to her, Zach vowed that he’d kill the bloody bastards!
Zach was at the bedside now, bending over Gabby, reaching out to pull her away from the edge. Her face was hidden by a thick veil of hair, but it was Gabby, all right. He’d never before seen a woman with such boyish hips and a small waist have so generous a bosom. He tried not to look, but her rosy nipples showed through the nearly transparent dressing gown.
Zach’s momentary distraction proved unfortunate. Suddenly Gabby reared up, the hand that had fallen over the side of the bed reappeared—in possession of a large vase! Zach had time only to register the irony of it and shout Gabby’s name, before the vase hit him squarely on the crown, sending him reeling to the floor. Blasts of color exploded behind his fluttering eyelids. Just before darkness enveloped him, he saw through a blur the horrified expression on Gabby’s face as she stood over him. He smiled grimly, then passed into blessed oblivion.
“Oh, what have I done?”
Gabrielle was stunned. She’d wished for Zach with such fervor, yet it was beyond the range of reasonable possibilities that he could have been alerted to her situation! No one knew where she was, so how did Zach get there? What was he doing at a house of ill repute?
The blood trickling down Zach’s scalp forced Gabrielle out of her state of shock. Now was not the time for speculation! She placed the shattered remains of the vase on the bedside stand and moved to the dressing table, which held a pewter basin, a pitcher of water, and a single washcloth. She poured some water into the basin and soaked the cloth in it, wringing it well. She dropped to her knees beside Zach’s inert body and gingerly dabbed at the wound.
He lay perfectly still. He was flat on his back, his long legs slightly bent at the knees and turned to the side, his arms flung wide of his body. Panic mounted inside her, but Gabrielle recalled that their family physician once told her that head wounds, even minor ones, always bled profusely. Surely she’d not inflicted a mortal wound! Just to reassure herself, however, she pressed her palm against Zach’s chest and felt it rise and fall in deep breathing, and also detected the strong, steady rhythm of his heart. This calmed her a little, and she focused on the tasks at hand; she must stem the flow of blood and help Zach return to consciousness.
The first proved to be easier than she thought it would be. She grew braver and wiped at the blood with a firmer hand, finding that the cut, once cleaned and visible, was not more than a half-inch wide. A large knot formed beneath it, however. She pushed carefully against the cloth and hoped the pressure would suffice in stopping the blood flow, since she doubted there were materials for bandages in the room. And she certainly could not summon Mother Henn for help! After a few moments, she could see that her efforts were paying off; the blood was coagulating and forming a seal.
The task of helping him to regain consciousness would not be so easily accomplished. Without her reticule, she had no smelling salts at hand. How soon he woke up on his own would depend on how badly injured he was. Gabrielle shook her head as tears sprung to her eyes. She couldn’t believe she’d actually whacked Zach over the head with a vase! She had once again managed to involve the poor man in one of her scrapes and placed him in danger. Her mother always said she attracted trouble like bees to honey, and poor Zach always managed to get caught in the resulting stickiness. Maybe he’d be better off if she did marry someone like Rory and moved far away from Pencarrow!
“Gabby?”
Gabrielle’s heart skipped a beat. She blinked through the tears and looked down at Zach. “Zach? Are you all right?” He was peering at her from beneath half-closed lids, his golden eyes glowing like candlelight spilling out of a window with the shade half down. Oh, what a welcome sight!
“Am I all right?” he repeated, as if she’d asked an idiotic question. “I very much doubt it, Gabby.” He groaned and lifted a hand toward his head in an instinctive, self-protective gesture.
She caught his hand. “Don’t touch, Zach. I’m trying to stop the bleeding.”
His hand dropped to his side and he closed his eyes again. “Trying to stop what you started?”
Gabrielle felt her cheeks grow hot. “I didn’t know it was you. I was defending myself against—” She couldn’t say it. Rape was such a detestable word, and now that Zach was there, now that she was safe, the horror of what would certainly have happened to her—despite her determined resistance—nearly overpowered Gabrielle.
Zach’s eyes opened. “I know, Gabby.”
The understanding in Zach’s voice and look both soothed and agitated her. Gabrielle swallowed the lump of emotion swelling in her throat and averted her eyes. “How did you know I was here?”
Zach grimaced. “I didn’t. In fact, not long ago I was thanking God you weren’t the poor girl I was sent to rescue. Believe me, I’m as surprised to see you as you are to see me!”
“What do you mean? Who sent you?”
Zach moved restlessly, finally crossing his arms across his chest as though to keep them still until Gabrielle was through with her ministration. “I was alerted by Mr. Blake, the proprietor of a women’s shelter nearby, that Mother Henn had snaffled herself a young woman of Quality. He suggested, and I agreed, that the only way to rescue the girl was by posing as a customer. In the past, the police have been ineffectual in this sort of matter.”
“How did Mr. Blake know?”
“A boy told him he saw Mother Henn lure you inside this place.”
“Ah, that would be Will—bless him! But how do you know Mr. Blake, Zach?”
“Full of questions as usual, I see,” he grumbled.
Gabrielle clicked her tongue with exasperation. “Unless you have something to hide, I don’t know why you should object to my questions!” But he did have something to hide. In her mind’s eye, she saw that blond woman in the brown mantle stepping into Zach’s carriage, her trill of laughter a sharp contrast to Gabrielle’s misery as she’d watched them drive off together. It was on the tip of her tongue to ask Zach about her, but she dared not.
Maybe the girl was somehow connected to this Mr. Blak
e. His daughter, perhaps. But if Mr. Blake was a respectable man, his daughter would be respectable, too, and then Gabrielle would have to conclude that the girl was not Zach’s mistress. The girl would be something much more threatening to Gabrielle’s happiness—a bona fide romantic interest. Gabrielle was dying to know, but she remained silent. Now was not the most propitious time to ask.
“I have questions, too,” Zach asserted harshly, his narrowed eyes now more like piercing lightning than warm candlelight. He propped his head slightly off the floor with one bent arm, glaring at her. “What were you doing in Old Town by yourself? And who in Hades is Will?”
Gabrielle felt a shiver of gratification run through her. He was angry. That meant he cared. “Will is one of the Tuttle children I told you. about, the family of urchins I met on Christmas Eve.”
Zach’s eyes widened. “Lord, you don’t say? You found them, then, in all this hodgepodge of buildings and people? How did you accomplish that?”
“Well, I didn’t, actually. Will found me. He stole my reticule, and I chased him. Next thing I knew, I was deep inside a maze of streets and being offered assistance by Mother Henn.”
“So you came to Old Town to find the Tuttles? That was foolish of you, Gabby, as well you know.”
“You were supposed to make inquiries for me.”
Zach looked pained. “I forgot all about that. I’m sorry.”
Gabrielle fell silent. He had supplied a reason for her being in Old Town, and she would not contradict him, though he was dead wrong. She’d wanted to find the Tuttles, but she wasn’t so short of a sheet that she didn’t realize that it would be well-nigh impossible to do it without assistance, and it was Zach’s assistance she’d waited for. But it was no wonder he’d forgotten all about his offer to nose about amongst his connections in Old Town for news of the Tuttles. She and Zach had hardly been speaking for a week now. He’d apparently had other things on his mind.
And so had she. Her search for the impoverished family had been set aside till she could thaw the icy attitude Zach had assumed after their encounter in the hall. Her first step in accomplishing this was to try to discover what attracted him to Old Town day after day. Now that she thought she knew what that attraction was, she must discover how formidable the blond girl was in terms of competition. Gabrielle had been hurt and discouraged when she’d seen Zach with the girl, but she had not given up. No, never that.
“It’s stopped bleeding. I think you can sit up now, if you’d like,” she said, after lifting the cloth and examining the wound.
“If I’d like, she says,” muttered Zach. “As if I’d prefer lying flat on my back in some…” Zach’s voice trailed off as he levered himself to a sitting position, swaying a bit from his head’s diminished ability to make smooth transitions from one altitude to another.
Gabrielle caught his shoulders, steadying him. “You moved too suddenly,” she scolded. “Your head may have stopped bleeding, but you’re bound to be dizzy for a while. It will pass eventually.”
Zach pulled his knees up and propped his elbows on them, cradling his head in his hands. “I haven’t the leisure to wait for my dizziness to pass. The Murrays and Clarissa will be frantic with worry, not to mention Rory—”
“Oh, they think I’m with you.”
Zach lifted his head, a grimace born of pain and incredulity distorting his handsome features. “What?”
“I left a note telling the Murrays I had gone out driving and touring with you. They trust you, Zach, and I thought it an excellent way to keep them from worrying if I didn’t happen to get back before I was discovered missing. Of course, I’m sure by now they know I’m gone, and as late as it is, even knowing I’m with you won’t lend them much comfort.”
“No. In fact, I’m sure they’re furious with me! We’ll have to think of some farradiddle to protect your reputation and keep them from knowing the real reason you’ve been gone all afternoon. But all that can be addressed—of necessity, in a brief fashion!—en route to New Town. Our first concern is to get out of here, Gabby. We’ll have to go out through the window since Mother Henn and her brutish hirelings won’t allow me to simply take you out the front door, you know, and in my present condition I don’t expect I’d win in a match of fisticuffs against the two of them, or be able to outshoot them, either.”
“Oh, I don’t know. You’re quite athletic, Zach, and a crack shot. I could help! I’m rather good at swinging vases and other such domestic things laying about the house.”
Despite the dull throbbing he felt in every inch of his skull, Zach was gratified and amused by Gabby’s faith in his abilities and her matter-of-fact statement concerning her own powers of resourceful battling. A half-smile had formed on his lips, but it quickly disappeared when, for the first time since she’d hit him with the vase, he really looked at her.
She sat back on her heels, her night rail puddled about her knees. Her hands rested in her lap; small fingers curled knuckle against knuckle. Her gown had no sleeves, and her slim white arms had the look of lustrous porcelain in the firelight. The neckline of her gown was naturally low-cut, but in the hectic activity of the past few moments it had gone askew and was draped even lower over her ample bust. Her nipples pressed against the thin material, as rosy … and rigid … as rubies. Despite their warm color, everyone knew that rubies were cold to the touch. But Gabby’s nipples wouldn’t be cold. Against his tongue, they’d be warm and taut.…
Alarmed by this titillating comparison springing so easily to his mind, Zach shifted his gaze to her face, but if he’d hoped he could dam up the rising tide of desire by only looking at her from the neck up, he was quite wrong. Her face was framed by that luxurious tumble of honey-blond hair she possessed, the beauty of it when unbound he’d nearly, and mercifully, forgotten. Covered by a bonnet or a flower spray, or coiled and tucked into a fashionable coiffure, the real magnificence of Gabby’s hair was usually hidden from view. He hadn’t seen it down since she was an awkward, coltish girl of thirteen, and even then it had made him catch his breath. “Zach?”
Zach met Gabby’s gaze. Her eyes were luminous and dewy, the pupils slightly dilated. There also was a question there, but no fear, and her lack of fear frightened Zach more than any bugbears or villains ever could. Then a challenge crept into her expression, and he was petrified. He’d been goaded by that look before, and he’d met the challenge with a kiss. But that kiss in the hall a week ago had tormented him through six restless nights, making him yearn for something he could never allow himself—Gabby’s love.
“You’re taking all this in surprising stride, Gabby,” he remarked hesitantly, biding his time while he stifled his urge to pull her into his arms.
Gabby bit her lower lip and furrowed her brows consideringly. She had wonderful, full, kissable lips. “I am quite relaxed. It must be the small amount of laudanum I swallowed. If I’d swallowed the whole of it they’d given me, I’d be unconscious. As it is, I actually feel rather—” She smiled, a slow, sensuous tilt of those luscious lips. “Carefree.” She cocked her head to the side. “And rather brave. Yes, brave. But then, just having you here, Zach, has made all my fears disappear.”
“Now I know you’re dizzy,” he said tersely. “We’re still in a great deal of danger, Gabby. Get some clothes on.”
“I don’t know where they are.”
Zach stood up—still a little dizzy himself—and braced himself by catching hold of the bedpost, then inclined his head toward the armoire resting against the opposite wall. “Did you look in there?”
Gabby raised her brows. “Well, no, up till now I’ve been either in a drugged stupor or fighting for my virtue and life. I promised myself, however, that as soon as I had a free moment I’d check to see if the room had an armoire, then ascertain whether or not it held my clothes!”
Zach frowned at Gabby’s dry—and what he considered inappropriate—humor. He supposed he could fault the laudanum for this, too. “You ought to put something on. It’s cold in here.
You might catch your death in that flimsy thing.” He shifted his gaze away from Gabby’s candid, disbelieving look.
“I’m not cold. And you don’t look cold, either. In fact—”
“Oh, for Christ’s sake, Gabby, do it for the sake of modesty, then!” Zach turned away and walked to the armoire, flinging open the doors with an excess of force, making them bang against the wood. “Look, there are plenty of things in here! If we can’t find your clothes, then surely one of these—” Zach’s voice trailed off. The armoire was filled with clothing, but nothing a woman would wear on the street. Dressing gowns and bloomers, corsets and chemises hung suggestively as if for consideration by the lascivious peruser of armoires, and, conveniently, in a variety of colors and sizes.
“I hardly think I’d be warmer in one of those,” Gabby remarked, still in that wry tone, her voice coming from much too close for Zach’s tenuous comfort. He turned quickly and discovered his tormenter not six inches away. At such a minimal distance and from the perspective of his considerable height, he could look right down the front of Gabby’s gown. Rubies. He shrugged past her and walked to the window, yanking open the drapes and pushing up the sill two inches. He closed his eyes and breathed the crisp, cold air.
“I thought you said it was chilly in here?”
Zach gritted his teeth, willing his body to relax, his heartbeat to slow to a normal rhythm. “Pour me some water, Gabby.”
“What?”
“Some fresh water in the basin, if you please. I need to wash. The sight of blood will alarm your aunt and the Murrays and will not put them in the proper frame of mind to believe our story, whatever it will be.” He felt her hesitation, and sighed tiredly. “Please, Gabby, just do as I ask.”