by Adele Clee
“There’s no damage downstairs,” Higson said trudging into the room, taking care not to step on the rug with his dirty boots. “But the door leading to the basement’s been forced.” He came to stand at Gabriel’s side and jerked his head towards the painting. “Looks like what’s happened here is personal.”
It was an insightful comment. Higson had no idea the portrait was of Rebecca’s mother, his assessment based purely on the obvious way the culprit had chosen to display it. Gabriel’s immediate thought was to blame George Wellford, but then he dismissed the idea. Although George’s methods were underhanded and thoughtless, he would never intentionally hurt Rebecca, not like this.
“Do not speak a word of this to anyone, not until I have told Miss Linwood.”
“Is it valuable?”
“Its value is purely sentimental,” Gabriel said as he drew his hand down his face and sighed.
“Then I can’t say as I envy you the task.”
Gabriel cursed loudly, the words filled with anger, fear and frustration. “What the hell am I supposed to say?”
“I’ve always found the truth works well enough.”
“Even when you know the truth will hurt?”
Higson shrugged. “Aye, even then.”
Gabriel strode over, picked up the painting and put it behind the chair, out of view. “I do not want her to see it displayed like a blasted trophy,” he said, feeling the need to explain his actions. He turned back to Higson. “Is the basement door secure?”
Higson scratched his head. “For the time being. But you’ll need to get someone to look at it tomorrow.”
Gabriel nodded. “I’ll check the museum again before we leave, but it may be too difficult to make a proper assessment of the antiquities until daylight.”
They wandered around the Egyptian displays, peering into the cabinets, searching for anything untoward.
“There should be four stone tablets on the plinth,” Gabriel said, shouting commands through the darkness.
“They’re all here, but I noticed an empty plinth in the hallway.”
Gabriel recalled Rebecca mentioning an accident, a bust falling onto the stairs. “I know. There was some sort of incident with a bust of Nefertiti. Everything else seems to be in order,” he said, his mind preoccupied, wondering why the culprit deliberately chose to target the painting of Rebecca’s mother. “We should head back.”
During the ride back to Hanover Square, Gabriel’s mind was plagued by uncertainty and doubt. His head urged him to go back and remove the damaged portrait, to tell Rebecca it had been stolen. His heart reminded him he was not capable of such deceit.
Of course, he also had another problem — Rebecca Linwood would be sleeping in his house.
The thought caused his heart to pound against his ribs. He could not deny that he wanted her with every ounce of his being. He ached at the thought of feeling her warm body curled up next to him in bed. Indeed, knowing temptation would be just a few short feet away was more than his weak body could bear. Yet he could not ask her to go to Lord Wellford’s house, not in the middle of the night, and he could not expect her to return home.
In all the years of studying the dead, he had never encountered such complications. His work always brought him a level of peace and comfort. A feeling he craved. Now, his craving was in the form of a luscious flame-haired beauty. Now, immoral images played havoc with his thoughts, every action controlled by his rampant desire.
This delicious form of torture had given him a renewed optimism for life. And she had given every indication she was just as eager for his companionship, too.
What harm would it do to ease their physical torment?
As an independent woman of means, she had never alluded to love or marriage, which in itself was a blessing. He was not capable of loving anyone, not anymore. That didn’t stop them exploring the realm of carnal pleasures. Perhaps it was time to be a little more spontaneous, to take Rebecca Linwood to his bed and to hell with the consequences.
Cosgrove’s veiled sarcasm hit him as soon as he came through the door. “Your guest is washed and watered and resting in her room, sir,” he said helping Gabriel out of his wet coat. “If that is all, I shall retire for the remainder of the evening.”
Gabriel raised a curious brow. “In her room?” he repeated, the sense of disappointment that she was not waiting for him in his private chamber, created a hollow feeling in his chest.
“You’re back.” Miss Linwood’s tone conveyed her impatience, and as she rushed down the stairs to greet him, his gaze fell to her bare feet.
If he had to make a list of all the attributes he found desirable in a woman, feet would not be amongst them. Yet he found the sight of her pretty toes oddly arousing.
As she came to stand in front of him, wearing nothing more than a nightdress and wrapper, her wide eyes searched his face. “Did you find them? Were they still there?”
Gabriel shook his head. “No. They’d left before we arrived.”
Cosgrove gave a discreet cough and excused himself.
“What about the antiquities?” She paused and swallowed deeply. “Tell me everything is alright. Please tell me nothing is broken.”
“As far as I could tell, everything in the museum is exactly as it should be.” He would wait until morning to tell her about the painting as he suspected she would charge over there to assess the damage.
She placed her hand over her heart and closed her eyes briefly as she tried to regulate her breathing. “You don’t know how relieved I am to hear you say that. While I was in the bathtub, I imagined you telling me they had destroyed my father’s things and I … I don’t think I could bear it.”
His stomach churned at the thought of her seeing the tattered image of her mother.
“Perhaps we should call Lord Wellford. You could stay with him for a few days while we try to establish what is going on.” The words sounded solemn. It was the last thing he wanted to do, but he knew it was the appropriate thing to say.
A look of panic flashed across her face. “I can’t. Please, you mustn’t tell him, Gabriel. Can I not stay here, just for tonight, just until I decide what to do?”
“Rebecca, people will talk. While I can guarantee the silence of my staff, I cannot be held accountable for the actions of meddling gossips.”
She stepped closer and placed a hesitant palm on his chest. “Please, Gabriel. You’re the only person I can trust.”
He could not decide if it was the touching words or the warmth radiating from her hand that caused his heated blood to bubble with pleasure. “The choice is yours,” he conceded easily. “I will do whatever makes you happy, Rebecca.”
Even in the muted light, she glowed with a radiance he found irresistible, and he knew he would never be able to say no to her.
“Thank you.” The words were barely a whisper as her hand fell from his chest. “I should go to bed.”
She stood on her toes, pressed her lips to his cheek and he closed his eyes and inhaled the unique scent of her skin, let her brightness penetrate the layers of his clothing until his body tingled in response.
When she turned away from him, he could not find the words to convey the emotion that filled his chest. “Good night, Rebecca,” he whispered as the muscles in his stomach twisted into painful knots of despair.
Despite finding the courage to give Gabriel a chaste kiss, he did not call after her and Rebecca walked up the stairs as though weights were strapped to her ankles, making each step harder to take.
What had she thought would happen? That he would wrap his strong arms around her and pull her into a passionate embrace?
She had felt his body tremble at the touch of her lips, felt the war raging inside him; an inner turmoil she suspected was more than a match for her own. He was hiding something of himself, perhaps the reason he chose not to mention his sister, perhaps the reason he chose to live as a recluse, away from Society.
When she entered her bedchamber, she sighed. I
t was not a sigh of relief, but one of disappointment. She closed the door and she placed her hands flat against the wood. Pressing her body up against it, she imagined what it would feel like if Gabriel held her against his muscular chest.
She tried to recall the first time she felt her body grow warm just from the sight of him and knew she had felt that way from the very beginning. The feeling had grown in intensity, the first flicker of desire now a blazing inferno, destined to destroy anything that got in its way.
The thud of boots making a slow ascent up the wooden staircase interrupted her reverie. They came to a stop at the far end of the landing and after a brief silence, she heard him walk towards her door.
Her heart hammered in her chest, her stomach fluttering from the thousand butterflies trapped inside. She could feel his presence as he hovered on the other side. Should she open the door? Should she invite him into her room, into her heart, into her bed?
While her mind moved frantically from one chaotic thought to another, she heard his steps recede, heard him open the door to his bedchamber and gently close it again.
Rebecca closed her eyes and remembered to breathe, the pain of loneliness crippling.
When she’d asked Gabriel if she could stay, her plea had been genuine — it was not seduction she had in mind. She thought of him as her friend, as the only person in the world she could trust. If they crossed the line of propriety and became lovers, what would happen then?
Would he be her salvation or the cause of her ruination?
If George Wellford had his way, she would be married to a wealthy merchant by the end of the month, forced to spend the rest of her days in a cold, lifeless bed. Then the thought of what could have happened to her had she not fled the museum, sent a terrifying shiver right through her.
Her thoughts drifted back to Gabriel. A burning need for him flooded her body with a heavenly feeling and she imagined a place where utter bliss was a certainty. A place where she could pander to her heart’s desire, regardless of the consequences.
Pushing away from the door, she straightened her wrapper, moistened her lips and shook out her hair, so it hung in waves about her shoulders.
She was strong-willed and fiercely independent. And she would have the man of her choosing, the only man she had ever wanted.
With her chin held high, she opened her door and walked with purposeful strides to stand outside his. Taking a deep breath, she lifted her hand to knock. But before she knew what was happening, Gabriel yanked open the door, grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her inside.
Kicking the door shut with his boot, his gaze swept over her with a level of hunger that forced her to swallow. “Good God, Rebecca, you are going to be the death of me,” he said as his mouth claimed hers in a passionate frenzy.
Chapter 14
It felt as though he had waited a lifetime to kiss her again, had spent years wandering the dry, dusty desert searching for sustenance before finally stumbling upon a glittering oasis. The first taste of her lips sent ripples of pleasure flowing all the way down to his toes. And he drank in the intoxicating feeling in a bid to sate his thirst.
Out of desperation, he cradled her face and tilted her head, the angle making it easier to plunge his tongue deeper into her mouth, as he searched for a way to ease his torment. Her hot mouth welcomed his wild attack, and he dropped his hands, pulled her into an embrace in the hope of easing his throbbing cock.
Her trembling fingers edged up over his shoulders, and she sank them into his hair to pull him closer. The need to have her grew so fierce he wanted to throw his head back and howl. He wanted to rip and tear at her clothes and ravage her heavenly body.
“Gabriel,” she breathed, tilting her head to the side so he could kiss along the line of her jaw and down the perfect column of her neck.
That one word sang to him: save me, show me, take me, and he knew if he did not rein in his rampant desire the memory of this night would be lost in a drunken blur.
Against the demands of his body, he broke contact and tried to calm his ragged breathing. “I do not have the strength to turn you away,” he whispered, a little surprised his conscience had found a voice.
She put her hand on his cheek, and he leaned into it. “I do not have the strength to run from it anymore, Gabriel. I cannot control what is happening to me. All I know is I need to be close to you.” She glanced at the floor as a blush flooded her cheeks and when she looked up, her gaze appeared more purposeful. “I want to experience the physical bond between a man and a woman and I … I want to experience it with you.”
Her words were like a potent aphrodisiac, yet he could not define the feeling that swamped his mind and body: pure carnal lust fused with something else, something less tangible, but equally as powerful.
With his gaze locked on hers, he pulled off his boots and then undid the ties on her wrapper, pushing it back off her shoulders until it fell to the floor. “Don’t be afraid,” he said, believing it was the right thing to say to a virgin.
Rebecca gave a little chuckle. “I am not afraid, Gabriel. Strangely, I have never felt more in control of anything my entire life.”
Well, he would do everything he could to make her lose control.
“Good,” he said, working on the knot in his cravat, “because I intend to worship your body, Rebecca. I intend to show you exactly how much I want you.”
She stood there, in what he presumed was one of Mrs. Hudson’s nightgowns, her generous breasts pushing against the confines of the fabric. Her wide eyes followed his movements with eager anticipation, the tip of her tongue touching her top lip as he yanked his shirt from his breeches and pulled it over his head.
Her gaze held a look of fascination as her hands came up to rest on his chest. The tips of her fingers traced the dusting of dark hair before wandering up over his shoulders and back down over the bulge of muscle in his upper arms.
He should have known she would not be shy and timid. He should have known her passionate nature would drive her to explore his body. It heightened his own pleasure to know he had the power to do this to her, that she wanted him and no other.
He unbuttoned his breeches, so they hung loosely around his hips. “I seem to be at a disadvantage,” he said as his gaze dropped to her white nightgown. “Here, allow me to rectify the problem.”
Without protest, she lifted her arms in the air. He could tell from the glazed look in her eyes that she was already heady with desire, and as he bunched the material up around her waist his fingers brushed against her soft thighs, the movement inducing a tiny gasp of pleasure.
Gabriel thought he was a man of the world. He thought he had seen every beautiful sight there was to see.
He was wrong.
The sight of Rebecca standing before him, in all her naked glory, stole his breath away. Waves of rich copper curls hung wildly about milky-white skin. His palms itched at the sight of her full round breasts, of her perky pink nipples, of her narrow waist flaring into curvaceous hips.
Bloody hell.
His mouth felt so dry he could hardly move his lips.
When he eventually found the energy to step out of his breeches and drawers, his hard cock sprang free.
She glanced down and then her shocked gaze flew back to his face. He took her hand and pulled her into an embrace, sucking in a breath at the feel of her pliant body rubbing against him.
Brushing a tendril of hair from her face, he lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her with a slow, languorous grace that quickly became more passionate — more urgent.
It hit him then: the thought that he had never wanted anything as much as he wanted her. Once would not be enough, as he feared he would never be able to sate this delicious craving.
Kissing Gabriel felt so good Rebecca thought she might lose her mind.
It was the way his tongue danced with hers. The wild erotic dance made her feel breathless and dizzy — the deep thrusts forcing little gasps and moans.
She had no idea wha
t to expect next. Yet she knew she was drowning in the depths of her own desire, carried along on wave after pleasurable wave that promised to deliver her to an idyllic shore.
Her body ached and throbbed but still she wanted more.
As though hearing her thoughts, Gabriel swung her up into his arms and carried her to the large four-poster, easing her down gently onto her back. He stood there for a moment, his greedy gaze devouring her body, lingering in the most intimate of places.
She should have felt embarrassed and self-conscious, but she didn’t. She felt wicked, desirable and needed. When his fingers trailed up over her thighs and across her stomach, she arched her back. The sensual movement made her breasts swell, made her nipples peak as a fiery heat pooled between her legs.
“I d-don’t know what to do, Gabriel,” she said, nerves pushing to the fore.
He moistened his lips. “You’re doing perfectly well so far,” he said his voice a rich and heavy drawl. “Rest assured. If I die tonight, I shall die a happy man.”
She had the power to do this to him, to make him swell with need, which despite her lack of experience gave her confidence in her ability as a woman.
“Make me happy, Gabriel,” she said offering her hand to him.
Make me forget all the lonely days and nights.
Gabriel took her hand and came down beside her onto the bed. The sheer size of him, coupled with the heat radiating from his skin, caused a throbbing between her legs that cried out for his touch.
He took her mouth more gently this time, his tongue tracing the line of her lips as though relishing the taste. When their tongues met, she heard a pleasurable hum resonate from the back of his throat. It was a sound she wanted to hear again and it spurred her on to be a little bolder.
As she pressed her body to his, he moaned as his hard length rubbed against her stomach. He kissed her neck, her breasts, teasing her nipple with his tongue and she felt a pulsating deep in her core. He trailed kisses down to her stomach, kissing and nipping at her inner thigh, between her legs. Before she could catch her breath, his wicked tongue sucked and licked the tiny bud there, until she felt the coil inside wind tighter and tighter, until her world exploded in a dazzling ray of glittering lights.
