by Amanda Quick
“If you will excuse me, I believe I shall go have a chat with Carstairs,” Kilbourne said. He bowed over Phoebe’s gloved hand. “I shall look forward to seeing you Thursday night, my dear. What sort of costume will you be wearing?”
“Something medieval, no doubt,” Anthony said dryly.
Kilbourne grimaced as he released Phoebe’s hand. “No doubt.” He swung around on his heel and marched off into the crowd.
“Damn that man. He always did have the devil’s own gall,” Anthony said half under his breath.
“I would not call it gall, precisely,” Phoebe mused as she watched Kilbourne disappear. “But he does tend to be rather pompous, does he not? One shudders to think what it would be like sitting across from him at the breakfast table every morning of one’s life.”
“Don’t be an idiot. Kilbourne is a perfectly decent sort. I was referring to Wylde.”
“Oh.”
“Hell, he really is going to approach us. Talk about raw nerve. I shall deal with him, Phoebe. Go and find Meredith. If she is aware of his presence, she will be extremely anxious.”
“I do not see what all the fuss is about,” Phoebe said. “And in any event it is much too late to send me packing. He is practically upon us.”
“I do not intend to introduce you to him,” Anthony said grimly.
Gabriel came to a halt in front of Phoebe and her brother. Ignoring Anthony, he looked down at his prey with clear challenge in his brilliant green eyes. “Good evening, Lady Phoebe. It is certainly a pleasure to see you again.”
So much for waiting for an introduction from his old enemy, Phoebe thought. She had to give Gabriel credit. He knew how to take the bold approach.
“Good evening, my lord,” she said. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the storm gathering on her brother’s face. She smiled brightly. “Anthony, I believe I forgot to mention that his lordship and I have already been introduced.”
“I’d like to know when and where.” Anthony gazed coldly at Gabriel.
“It was at the Amesburys’ country house, was it not, my lord?” Phoebe looked straight up into Gabriel’s glittering gaze. “You remember I spent the week in the country, Anthony.”
“So you did,” Anthony rasped. “And you’re quite right. You definitely did forget to mention that you had met Wylde while there.”
“It was a very large crowd,” Phoebe murmured. She realized Gabriel’s expression was one of savage amusement. He was enjoying himself. She had to get him away from Anthony before there was bloodshed. “I expect you would like to ask me to dance, would you not, my lord?”
“Phoebe” Anthony was truly scandalized, in spite of the tense situation. Ladies did not ask gentlemen to dance under any circumstances.
“Do not concern yourself, Oaksley.” Gabriel took Phoebe’s arm. “Your sister and I became very well acquainted at the Amesburys’. Perhaps it is because I have spent the past eight years in exile from Polite Society or perhaps it is just my nature. Whatever the reason, I find I am not in the least put off by what some men might consider fast behavior in a female.”
“How dare you imply my sister is fast?” Anthony snarled.
“Well, she certainly is not slow.” Gabriel led Phoebe out onto the floor before Anthony could find a civilized way to stop him.
Phoebe nearly laughed aloud at the look on her brother’s face. And then she heard the strains of a waltz and sobered quickly. She looked anxiously up at Gabriel, wondering how he felt about being seen with her on the dance floor. She wondered if it had occurred to him that she might embarrass him.
“Perhaps we should content ourselves with a quiet conversation, my lord,” Phoebe suggested, feeling a bit guilty for having more or less forced him into this situation.
“We’ll get to the quiet conversation eventually,” Gabriel vowed. “But first I intend to have this dance.”
“But my lord—”
He gave her a knowing look. “Don’t worry, Phoebe. You may trust me to catch you if you lose your balance.”
A glorious sense of relief and joy welled up inside Phoebe as she realized Gabriel did not give a damn about how she made him look on the dance floor.
Gabriel swung her into a whirling turn. She would have lost her footing on the first step if he had not been holding her so tightly. As it was, her slippers barely touched the floor. The silk skirts of her chartreuse and orange gown swung wide.
The dazzling lights of the chandeliers spun overhead as Gabriel swept her across the floor. Phoebe saw a band of iridescent color form around her. She realized vaguely that it was the pastel gowns of the ladies merging into a rainbow.
Exhilaration sang through Phoebe. She could not recall feeling like this before in her life.
Even Neil had never danced with her like this. Her noble Lancelot had always taken care to choose slow, measured steps that she could safely follow. But there was nothing safe about the way Gabriel was dancing. Yet he seemed to sense whenever her balance was threatened. When her left leg faltered, he caught her and carried her through the swirling turns. Phoebe felt as though she were flying.
She was breathless as the music swept toward a ravishing crescendo. The only solid thing to hang on to in this spinning, chaotic world was Gabriel. Instead of resting her fingers lightly on his shoulder, she clutched at him. His firm grasp made her feel safe even in the most outrageous, sweeping turns.
She was vaguely aware that the music had stopped, but her senses were still spinning wildly out of control. She clung to Gabriel as he led her off the floor.
“My lord, that was truly wonderful,” she gasped.
“It is only the beginning,” he said softly.
A moment later she was aware of the cool evening air on her face. She realized he had brought her over to the row of open French doors that lined the ballroom.
Without a word, he took her by the hand and led her out into the night.
“Now we shall have our quiet conversation, Lady Phoebe.” He drew her into the deeper shadows of the garden.
Phoebe was still breathless, but she knew it was no longer because of the excitement of the dancing. She could hardly believe Gabriel had found her.
“I must tell you, I am most impressed with your questing skills, my lord.” Phoebe looked at him. “How did you discover my identity? I vow I gave you no clues.”
He stopped in the deep shadow of a hedge and turned to face her. “I found you by using the same technique you used to discover that I was the author of The Quest. I contacted a solicitor.”
She felt herself turning red. It was most unfortunate she’d been obliged to mislead him on that point, she reflected. But she really had no choice. She simply could not tell him the truth. “That was very clever of you.”
“It was necessary,” he said. “There is unfinished business between us. You were in rather a rush to leave me the other night, if you will recall.”
Phoebe studied the severe folds of his white cravat. “I trust you will forgive me, my lord. I was somewhat overset at the time. The adventure had not gone as I had planned it.”
“You made that very clear. Neither the adventure nor I had lived up to your expectations, apparently.”
“Well, to be perfectly frank, no.”
“Perhaps you set your expectations too high,” Gabriel suggested.
“Perhaps.” She wished she could see his eyes and the expression on his face. His voice gave her no clue as to his mood, but she sensed a grim tension in him. It was as if he were preparing for battle. “Then again, perhaps not. May I ask why you have gone to the effort to find me?”
“I would have thought you’d have guessed the answer to that. I have something to return to you.”
Phoebe caught her breath. “You found The Knight and the Sorcerer?”
“I told you I would get it back for you.”
“Yes, I know, but I never dreamed you’d actually be able to do it.”
“Your great confidence in my knightly prowess is truly i
nspiring.”
She ignored the sarcasm. “My lord, this is so exciting. How did you find the highwayman? How did you force him to turn over the manuscript?” Phoebe blinked as a thought struck her. “You were not obliged to shoot him, were you?”
“No. Mr. Nash and his son were quite cooperative.”
Phoebe’s mouth fell open. “Mr. Nash? He was the one who stole the manuscript from us?”
“It seems he could not bear to part with it. At the same time he desperately needed the money. So he and his son concocted a scheme whereby they could have both the manuscript and the money. The ever helpful Egan played the part of the highwayman.”
“Good heavens.” Phoebe frowned. “Actually, it was a rather clever plan and I can certainly understand Mr. Nash’s dilemma. It must have been very hard for him to sell the manuscript. How did you tumble to the truth?”
“I thought it was pushing coincidence a bit far to get robbed within ten minutes of leaving Nash’s cottage. The highwayman showed only a rather casual interest in our purses, but he got quite enthusiastic about the box containing the manuscript.”
“So he did.” Phoebe’s eyes widened. “You knew who the highwayman was when he appeared?”
“I had my suspicions.”
“How utterly brilliant of you.” Phoebe was awed. “No wonder you did not resist at the time. You knew exactly where to go to collect the manuscript later. My lord, I take back all those nasty things I said about you.”
“I am relieved to know you do not consider me a complete failure as a knight-errant.”
Phoebe realized she had injured his pride. She touched his arm in a small, earnest little gesture of apology. “I assure you I never actually thought you a complete failure.”
“You called me a coward, I believe.”
“Yes, well, my temper was somewhat frayed at the time. I trust you will make allowances?”
“Why not?” Gabriel’s tone was dry. “I suppose ladies who send knights out on quests have the privilege of being demanding.”
Phoebe smiled. “And I suppose knights who are asked to risk their necks are entitled to be somewhat temperamental.”
“We are in agreement on one topic, at least.” Gabriel took a step closer and caught her chin on the edge of his gloved hand. His strong thigh brushed against the silk skirts of her gown.
Phoebe shivered. His touch instantly reignited everything she had felt that night on the road when he had taken her into his arms. She had never been so acutely conscious of a man before in her life. There was danger in this kind of masculine power, she realized suddenly. But it was also incredibly alluring. She drew a deep breath and tried to compose herself.
“My lord,” she said, “I must ask you if you have come here tonight because you have decided to assist me in my quest.”
“I think you know the answer to that.”
Phoebe gazed up at him in gathering excitement. “Then the answer is yes? You will help me locate the murderous pirate who stole The Lady in the Tower?”
Gabriel’s mouth curved faintly. “Rest assured, Lady Phoebe. You will know the identity of the owner of your book before the Season is over.”
“I knew it.” Overcome with joy, she threw her arms around Gabriel’s neck. “I knew you would not be able to resist such a bold quest. I do not know how to thank you, my lord.” She stood on tiptoe and brushed her lips across his cheek. Then she stepped back quickly. She felt the heat in her face as she realized what she had done.
Gabriel narrowed his eyes. He touched the side of his face briefly. “That will do for starters. But I think I should warn you that these days when I set out on quests, I make certain I get properly rewarded for my efforts.”
“I understand. You said there would be a fee for your services.” Phoebe straightened her shoulders. “I am prepared to pay it.”
“Are you, indeed?”
“If it is within my means,” Phoebe amended quickly.
“It will definitely be within your means.”
Phoebe searched his unreadable face. “What is your fee, sir?”
“I am still calculating it.”
“I see.” Phoebe did not know how to take that. She cleared her throat cautiously. “I, myself, have never been very good with calculations and such.”
“I am very, very good with them,” he assured her softly.
“Oh. Well, then, you must let me know as soon as you have settled upon a sum. In the meantime, I shall give you some preliminary instructions.”
Gabriel eyed her. “Instructions?”
“Yes, of course. This quest is a very serious matter and I would have you proceed carefully and, above all, discreetly.” Phoebe took another step back and began to pace up and down in front of him. She frowned in thought. “First of all, we must maintain absolute secrecy.”
“Secrecy.” Gabriel considered that for a moment. “Why?”
“Don’t be a dolt. Secrecy is necessary or we shall risk warning our quarry that we are on his trail.”
“Ah.”
Phoebe held up her hand and raised one finger. “Secrecy is the first requirement. No one must know that we are working together on this quest.” She raised another finger. “The second requirement is that you keep me informed of your progress.”
Gabriel’s brow rose. “You want regular reports?”
“Yes. That way I shall be able to guide and coordinate your work. I shall make certain you are covering all the obvious avenues of inquiry.”
“You do not trust me to be able to find all those particular avenues on my own?” Gabriel asked.
“No, of course not. You have been out of Society for eight years, my lord. There is much you do not know, I shall be able to give you a great deal of valuable information about certain book collectors and booksellers. You will, in turn, be able to apply that information while you are investigating.”
“Phoebe, I agreed to this quest of yours, but you had better understand from the beginning that I am not some damn Bow Street Runner you may order about as it suits your whim.”
She paused in her pacing to give him a placating smile. “I am well aware you are not a Runner, my lord. This matter is well beyond the scope of a mere Runner. You are a knight-errant. My knight-errant. In a very real sense you will be working for me, my lord. You do comprehend that, do you not?”
“I am starting to grasp your notion of how this partnership is supposed to work. But I don’t think you have got a proper concept of how a knight-errant functions.”
She peered at him in surprise. “What do you mean, my lord?”
“Knights-errant are notorious for going about their quests in their own fashions.” Gabriel slowly stripped off his gloves. His eyes gleamed in the shadows as he leaned over her. “Do not misunderstand me. They are happy to serve their ladies, but they do so as they see fit.”
She frowned. “Be that as it may, you will find my guidance quite necessary, my lord. Not only can I supply information, I can also secure the invitations you will need.”
“Hmm. I cannot argue with you on that score,” Gabriel conceded. “With your contacts, you can get me invited to the same parties and soirees that you will be attending.”
“Precisely.” She gave him an approving smile. “And you will find me very useful in other ways, too. You see, my lord, we must work closely together on this. I don’t mean to put too fine a point on it, but the fact is the quest to find my book is my idea. Therefore, it stands to reason that I should be in charge.”
Gabriel caught her face between his bare hands. “Something tells me that reason does not have a lot to do with this entire affair.” He bent his head.
Phoebe’s eyes widened. “My lord, what are you doing?”
“I am going to kiss you.”
“I am not at all certain that is a sound notion.” Phoebe was violently aware of her racing pulse. Visions of his last unnerving kiss flashed in her head. “I believe knights-errant are supposed to admire their ladies from afar.”
“Now, that is where you are quite wrong.” Gabriel’s mouth brushed across hers with tantalizing slowness. “Knights-errant did everything in their power to get as close as possible to their ladies.”
“Nevertheless, it might be best if we—”
The rest of Phoebe’s half-strangled protest was lost as Gabriel’s mouth came down on hers. She clutched at his shoulders, riveted by the intensity of feeling that was washing through her.
The first time he had kissed her, he had been wearing gloves. Tonight the unexpected roughness of his palms against her skin startled her. Not the hands of a gentleman, she thought. Dear heaven, these are the hands of a warrior.
Gabriel deepened the kiss swiftly, his mouth fierce and demanding. Phoebe felt herself respond with a sudden urgency that took her by surprise. She moaned softly. Her fan fell from her hand as she moved her arms up to circle his neck.
She was even more dazed and breathless now than she had been when he had danced with her. Gabriel was consuming her and at the same time creating a shattering hunger within her. His lips moved on hers, seeking a response that matched his own. Phoebe hesitated, uncertain how to handle the still unfamiliar and utterly devastating sensuality he ignited within her.
Then she felt Gabriel’s callused thumb at the corner of her mouth. She realized he was coaxing her lips apart. Uncomprehending, she obeyed. In an instant he was inside, groaning heavily as he plundered her softness.
Phoebe had been kissed before by the occasional overly bold suitor. Such embraces, frequently snatched in gardens outside a crowded ballroom such as this, had been hurried and generally uninteresting. They had filled her with nothing more than a desire to return to the ballroom. Neil Baxter had also kissed her once or twice, but never like this. Neil’s kisses had been chaste and polite and Phoebe had never desired more than what he offered.
With Gabriel she knew she was experiencing passion. This was the stuff of legend, she told herself exultantly. This was what she had always sensed was waiting for her somewhere with the right man.
This was exceedingly dangerous.
