Rogues Gallery (19 page)

She led him to the chairs near the fireplace, unwilling to relinquish his hand. He could not still the gladness her response evoked in his heart. Was it possible she genuinely cared for him? Or was her concern simply because he was to rescue her from her dire fate?

The last did not bear consideration, not at that moment. He had been too long without the pleasure of her company to fret over her motives.

Gabriel's eyebrows rose as he saw the repast, and the brandy, waiting on the table. "'Tis a mystery to me how this bottle never seems to deplete itself, no matter the effort we expend to empty it."

"I consider it my duty to have a full bottle of brandy awaiting the 'exalted lord of the highways'."

"And how were you so certain of my visit?"

"The morning papers made mention of a highwayman terrorizing the roads. The first such episode in a sennight," she added.

"You are much too astute, my angel." He kissed the tip of her nose. "I can only pray the others in this household pay less attention to the pertinent facts than you do." He pulled out a chair for her to be seated.

"Such as the veiled inference that this new highwayman bore an astonishing resemblance to Lord Westbrook?" she asked over her shoulder.

Gabriel seated himself in the brocade chair facing hers. "And why do you suppose Lord Westbrook would dare to encroach on my territory? Ah, of course!"

Marisa raised her eyebrows, a smile hovering about her lips.

"Did he not say at your betrothal ball—with a great deal of jealous dismay, I might add—how he could never hope to compete with such a dashing figure?" He tapped his chin, pretending to be puzzled. "I never would have thought he would assume the role of midnight marauder, though. Why, just think of the damage it would cause to his sterling reputation."

He sat back in the chair, unable to curb a very satisfied grin.

Marisa tilted her head. "I wonder why you should wish to destroy what this man values most."

"I will concede it is of great value to him, but his reputation is not what he treasures the most," Gabriel answered. "Nor did I confess to indulging in such a terrible endeavor. From all appearances, it would seem your betrothed is devoting his energies to highway robbery."

"Indeed," she said, but her eyes danced with merriment. "Perhaps I should offer him my abiding gratitude for his part in my rescue."

Gabriel chuckled. "I would counsel the opposite at present, minx."

Before she could press him further for information he dared not divulge, Gabriel sought to steer her curiosity in another direction. He picked her up from her chair and sat her on his lap, his never-dormant desire rising to the fore. He cupped her head, stilling her light-as-butterfly kisses by nibbling at her lips.

Her warm, unbearably gentle hands came to rest on his chest. Even though the thin fabric of his shirt covered him, he could feel his nipples instantly hardening at her touch. Apparently she felt them, too, for her palms descended until they covered the firm pebbles.

Gabriel removed his lips from hers, needing to steady his uneven breath. "I hope Daphne is not likely to intrude tonight."

Marisa shook her head. "She told me she had been assigned some duties in another portion of the house." She continued to caress his chest, fascinated with his body's response to her touch. "But I believe she has a lover."

"Is that so?"

"I saw one of the footmen eyeing her recently, and they had quite a spirited conversation afterwards."

"Her good fortune is ours as well then." Closing his eyes, Gabriel succumbed to Marisa's tender ministrations.

"It pleases you?" she whispered.

He lifted his eyelids with great effort, enthralled at the pleasure exhibited in her sweet face. "Aye," he said with a weak smile. "It pleases me."

Emboldened by his answer, Marisa bent her head and pressed a tentative kiss to his bared throat. He was not surprised that his pulse leapt beneath her lips, but he was quite startled when her hands found their way inside his shirt.

He placed both his hands on hers, stilling them while he had the strength to do so. He looked into her eyes, unable to utter the needed warning, praying she could read it in his face.

Clearly she did, but, to his surprise, she defiantly slipped her hands closer to their goal.

"Marisa," he choked out. "I beg you to reconsider."

She tilted her head as she appeared to do just that. Before a heartbeat had elapsed, she ducked her head and her warm tongue flicked over his very-aroused nipple.

"Sweet Christ!"

Marisa drew back, twisting her hands in her lap. "I did not mean to harm you. I was certain you would feel as I did."

"You did not—" His voice cracked for the first time since adolescence. "You did not harm me, sweet." He pressed a light kiss to her lips, for reassurance, treasuring her delightful blush.

"I understand. You think me wicked, of course."

Gabriel marveled at how quickly she appeared to deflate. In spite of her indomitable spirit, she remained unaware that she was a most delightful combination of sauciness and innocence, a mélange he found irresistible.

"Not at all. You are the furthest from wicked that a person can be. Indeed, I have never encountered such rare purity in all my born days."

"Truly?"

Gabriel heard the doubt in her voice, but her eyes reflected how intensely she wanted to believe his words. He pressed another kiss to her lips.

"Truly," he said with utter conviction.

She reclined against his chest, sighing with seeming contentment when he reflexively wrapped his arms about her.

"But surely only wicked women indulge in such behavior as I just did."

"Not true." He placed a kiss into her divinely fragrant hair. "But unfortunately, it is not for us to indulge in."

Leastwise, not yet.

The breath she expelled had a decidedly disappointed aspect to it. Gabriel smiled again, wondering if his guileless angel knew just how transparent she was at that moment.

It was not as if he did not commiserate with the frustrated lass. He, too, was at a frenzied peak, particularly since he had not seen in her in so many days. He barely stifled a curse when she shifted on his lap, inadvertently rubbing her delectable bottom closer to his aching arousal.

Though his teeth were clenched, he managed to ask with admirable calm, "The wedding plans continue apace, I presume?"

She nodded. "The rescue plans continue apace, I presume?"

Gabriel laughed, giving her a squeeze. "For one so pure, you are possessed of a devilish sense of humor."

She nuzzled closer to him, and Gabriel felt her smile against his chest seconds before her tongue began its assault once more.

"Angel," he muttered. "Have mercy, I pray you."

When he saw she was not to be dissuaded, Gabriel gave in to her erotic explorations.

But not before tipping back the brandy bottle for a much needed swallow or two.

***

M
arisa rested her head against Gabriel, right above his heart. For a full minute, she listened to the comforting beat, reassured by the steady cadence that proved he would not fail her. She exhaled another sigh, less raggedly this time, and tilted her head to look at him.

To her delight, he was watching her in such a protective fashion. She felt a rush of comfort as she had never felt in her life. Someone cared for her after all, it seemed. And, wonder of wonders, it was the man who had her heart—her future—in the palm of his hand. She snuggled once more against his chest, treasuring his warmth and the security his proximity brought.

"Lord Midnight," she said with determination. "I do not wish to appear ungrateful, but I must remind you to make haste with your rescue plans."

His eyes narrowed in a mock scowl, but it was accompanied by an appearance of his dimple, nearly distracting her.

"You never have told me what you intend to do. It is only fair that I know, as I am the one in need of rescue."

"You shall know when it is time for you to know the details." As she opened her mouth, he added, "And not before."

His mouth closed over hers, ending any further protest, inciting an urge to draw him into her soul for safekeeping. His lips were so warm and reassuring, so loving. She returned the kiss with a ferocity that surprised her, but he merely accepted her passion as if it was his due.

Soon his hands were kneading her shoulders, heating her skin beneath her thin lawn nightrail until she wanted to tear it away, baring her flesh to his hands. Before she could do so, his hand wandered downwards, finding her already-aroused breasts. He groaned at finding the treasure, sucking in quick breaths while he gauged her reaction.

Her heart pounded, leaving her dangerously lightheaded. She would likely swoon at any moment. The only thing that averted it was the thought of missing out on more of the delicious torment at his hands. Steeling herself to remain conscious, despite her brain's contrary recommendation, she moaned, curving into his palm.

He stroked her breast, causing dizzying swirls of something she couldn't name to course throughout her body. To her shock, his caresses caused a throbbing to commence between her legs, and she could not discern why.

"Lord Midnight," Marisa said with effort. "It is the strangest thing."

"I imagine it must seem so." He nipped her earlobe, while his fingertips continued their distracting touches. "Even for such a wicked lass as you."

"No, I mean—" Marisa balked. How could she mention something so frightfully intimate? Yet her forthright nature demanded an explanation. "It seems—Well, what I want to say. Honestly! How can I experience sensations in one place when your hand is someplace else entirely?"

His hand halted at once, clutching her breast as if it might fall off if he did not hold it so. Marisa blushed. If only she had kept quiet, for now he would think her not only a wayward woman, but a defective one as well.

He dropped his head against her breast, and in a heartbeat, she felt his quick kiss, followed by what could only be a smile.

"Mistress Angel, you are the most refreshing creature the good Lord ever created. Why He ever decided to bestow your wondrous self on me, I shall never know." He raised his head, and to her immense relief, Marisa could see his eyes were dancing with merriment. "But, my sweet, I shall remain ever grateful for this bounteous blessing."

His effusive praise was more than gratifying. "There is still the matter of—"

He cocked his head, raising his eyebrows.

"I fear I have a defect," she finally blurted, her gaze a defiant one despite the flush she felt wash over her face.

"Because you experience sensations in a place different than where my hand was?" he repeated.

She nodded once, her lips pressed together to still any other outbursts.

"Mistress Angel," he whispered. "I am utterly convinced you have no defect. But, just to be certain, perhaps it would be best if you describe this sensation you experienced."

The swooning feeling returned at the sin glittering in his eyes, not to mention the heat in his whisper, promising future pleasures, of that she had no doubt. She moistened her lips, surprised by his soft moan.

"Well, 'tis a difficult thing to describe. Not having known it previously," she explained.

"Of course," he said, smiling. He motioned her to continue.

"It feels as if thunder is building up before a storm. A massive storm, too, and I feel as if I must move about, but I'm not sure if it is because I wish to remove myself from the strangeness of the feeling."

"Or because you must have more of it?"

"I think so."

Marisa waited for his answer, twisting her hands. At last he kissed her with such intensity she thought she might die from the sheer pleasure of it.

His lips still against hers, he whispered, "My angel, what you have described is the beginning to some delicious lessons in your future."

Her eyes opened wide.

"Lessons about passion that you shall utterly adore."

For some reason, her chest felt constricted, and she inhaled deeply to cure herself of this new malady. But she liked his mention of the word "future", for his thoughts were aligned with hers. "When shall these lessons commence?"

"Much sooner than you might suspect," he added.

"A surprise," she said, although her heart danced in her ribcage. "Your surprises have the effect of driving me quite mad."

He pressed his fingers to her lips. "I have no intentions of driving you mad. Not at present."

She nodded, though she was not at all certain what his words meant. Still, his every action persuaded her he was a worthy recipient of all her love and trust. She wanted to ask if she inspired the same emotions in him, knowing it was an imprudent question, yet needing reassurance.

But he was speaking again before she could satisfy her inquisitiveness on that score. "Come, angel, 'tis time for you to retire to your bed." His eyes flicked in that direction, followed by what sounded like a sigh of regret. He stood up with her in his arms and walked across the room to the bed.

She kept her arms twined about his neck, hoping to allay at least one worrisome doubt. "These lessons have quite stirred my curiosity. But I wonder—Do you think I shall prove to be an apt pupil?"

"I would wager your tutor will find you more than apt, angel." His smile was filled with mischief as he deposited her on the mattress. "In truth, the student may end up teaching the instructor a thing or two."

It was so glorious to be alive!

Marisa laughed with utter abandon, pulling the high-spirited horse to a standstill before she gave in to the impulse to urge the animal over the nearby hedge.

For once, though, the surrounding shrubbery and trees were not the escape they had been. She walked the animal around the perimeter of Westbrook Hall's grounds, allowing the horse to regain its normal breathing rhythm.

Hers quickly altered, however, at the thought of Gabriel's most instructive—indeed, indecently pleasurable—lesson the previous evening. She raised a shaky hand to her cheek, grateful for the flush already there thanks to the stirring ride in which she had just indulged.