Rogues Gallery (25 page)

Marisa's heart pounded so fiercely, she was certain it would burst forth from her nightrail. "He told me he does not have any family," she persisted, though her body pleaded with her to renounce the interrogation, at least for now. She unwittingly tilted her head back, giving Gabriel even more ability to pleasure her. "Edmund informed me he had a brother who died many years ago. With no surviving children."

"So it appears there is no answer to this riddle," Gabriel said, trailing kisses down her now-bare shoulder.

Marisa placed her hands on both sides of Gabriel's face, ceasing the distracting pleasure. "The riddle is why I cannot persuade you to trust me."

"Perhaps it is because I need your continued trust as well." His blue eyes exposed such vulnerability, yet he did not attempt to hide it from her. Marisa's heart almost melted. He needed something valuable from her, something as important as what she required.

"But you have always had my trust," she cried. "Have I done anything less than trust you? From the very beginning?"

Gabriel held her gaze for several long moments. At last he nodded, reassured by whatever he had seen in her expression. "Your trust has been a treasure," he said. "A gift. One that has frightened me, in part because you have given it to me so freely, when perhaps there was no reason you should."

"And why should I not have trusted you?" Marisa asked, placing a tender kiss on his cheek. "Before now."

"You mean besides the fact of my criminal nature?"

"And besides the fact," she said, kissing his eyelids, "you will not respond to any of my questions with a straightforward answer?"

Gabriel remained quiet, so Marisa continued her sensual interrogation. She was not certain what to do, so she opted for exploring him with her lips, hoping she could drive him to the brink of madness as he had done with her.

She pressed her open mouth next to his ear, breathing in his delectable sandalwood scent, and then she began dotting his skin with tender kisses. She heard his moan, and her body responded with a delightful shiver.

"Angel," he said, his voice pleading.

"Sssh," she answered, placing her fingers against his lips.

All of a sudden he moved her about on his lap, although it required several adjustments before he appeared satisfied with her position.

She untied the string at the throat of his lawn shirt and slipped her hands inside. She stroked the silky soft skin of his chest, marveling at the strength beneath her fingers. "Can you assure me I am not a part of some plot?"

He answered with such intensity, she nearly faltered. "I can say without question you are not part of any plot."

She planted kisses down his throat, in the same fashion he had done to her. "You and Edmund share the same surname."

"Yes, we do," he rasped, his breathing even more ragged than before.

She took a delicate nip at his throat, where his life force throbbed. "And you cannot, or will not, enlighten me as to the reason."

He was quiet for several long moments, and Marisa imagined she heard his heart beating, filling the silence.

"Angel," he said at last, his voice tender, "is it truly so difficult to believe I wed you for any other reason than your wellbeing?"

Marisa's heart thudded. She studied his face while her mind spun through dozens of possible interpretations of his actions the night of their wedding. She had been a pawn for so long she could scarce comprehend being anything else. Though she had no experience with the unusual notion he presented, she wanted it to be true.

Still, she shook her head, unwilling to believe the possibility. A lifetime of deception by others had persuaded her otherwise.

"I am merely asking for a show of faith," she replied.

He picked up her hand, kissing the fingertips. "Such as showing my face to you, when my continued wellbeing depends on keeping it hidden? Or visiting you in your bedchamber, when the authorities would pay a princely sum for my capture? And knowing my name could prove quite valuable as well."

She swallowed, realizing how much he risked, simply to reassure her. He had known of her fervent desire to escape, and had she sounded the alarm, the reward would have provided a comfortable living for her and Aunt Althea. Knowing that, still he had continued his visits, trusting her with his very future.

Marisa could scarce breathe. "Gabriel, I—"

"I have not told you anything more, because it is my most fervent desire to protect you." He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her against his chest, pressing a kiss into her hair. "But if I remain silent," he continued, "you will persist in believing I am betraying you."

"No one else has ever considered my wellbeing," she confessed. "Except Aunt Althea. Certainly no man has done anything for me unless it served his own interests first."

Gabriel gave her a light squeeze. "In that case, you can be forgiven for accusing me of a similar crime."

"I hope you are not expecting a similar forgiveness from me," she retorted. Her heart was already lighter, knowing her fears of betrayal at his hand had been for naught.

"Had I known you would prove to be so obstinate," he said with a theatrical sigh, "I might have thought twice about making you my bride."

She giggled at the expression of dismay on his face. "I would say you had many opportunities to discover that trait, Gabriel. Indeed, I have confessed it to you quite often."

"And, if I had wanted to harm you, in any fashion, I could have done so many times in the past. Yet clearly I did not."

"True."

"As I recall," he said with a glimmer in his eye, "maidenly resistance was conspicuously absent during my many visits."

Marisa flushed. "Yet when you refused to answer my questions, after our wedding, I could do naught but assume you were untrustworthy."

"It is habit on your part then."

She laughed. "Perhaps."

"Can we cry truce then?" he asked, his eyes lit up with hopefulness.

"Will you promise to tell me everything I want to know?"

He raised his eyebrows once more. "Will you promise to believe such knowledge puts not only you, but me, at great risk?"

She could not bear to consider the possibility of Gabriel coming to harm.

"You need not tell me everything today," she said. "But sometime in the future, when Aunt Althea is free from Father's schemes, and I am safely away from here?"

"I can easily promise that," Gabriel answered. "And now, a question for you."

"Of course. You have earned at least that."

"Should you like to commence the lessons I mentioned previously?"

Gabriel felt Marisa go completely still in his arms. Indeed, he would swear she had ceased breathing for several minutes. His heart thudded so loudly, he feared he would miss her response, even were it one he did not want to hear.

She sat up and gazed at him in her forthright fashion. "How shall this lesson commence?"

He gulped before kissing her, filled with gratitude for her guileless acceptance of him, for the beautiful gift of her wickedly innocent curiosity.

"This lesson commences in much the same fashion as you are already accustomed to. In truth, you may think it a review of past episodes."

She moistened her lips, clearly intrigued, not to mention eager to commence.

Praying for restraint—yet not any time soon—Gabriel picked Marisa up in his arms and carried her to the large tester bed. Once he had placed her on the counterpane, he turned, intending to fortify himself with some brandy.

She grabbed his hand, as if fearful he had tricked her into bed so he could depart. Trust was still a fragile commodity, he realized in that moment, one which would require constant tending.

He pressed a heated kiss to her palm, reveling in the stirring of passion in her eyes. "I merely mean to fetch the brandy, angel."

"'Tis part of the lesson?"

"An integral part." He grabbed the bottle, foregoing the nicety of the glasses, before hastening back to the bed next to Marisa. She scrambled to an upright position, waiting for a drink of the liquor.

Gabriel hesitated. He had already corrupted the innocent miss so much. With a fatalistic shrug, he tilted the bottle to her lips. He had ensured himself two lifetimes in purgatory for his infamous deeds with this once-pure angel.

Marisa carefully swallowed, stopping once to catch her breath. Gabriel knew the instant the brandy began to warm her blood. She pushed the bottle away and leaned forward, closing her eyes as her lips found his.

The taste of brandy mingled with the familiar taste of her mouth. He knew he could never again drink the fiery liquid without wanting to press his lips to hers. Marisa pulled back, and Gabriel groaned at the knowing look in her face. She had discovered, long before he did, that his bride was more potent to his senses than the brandy ever could be.

He grabbed the bottle, taking a hefty swig—never taking his eyes off her. He wanted her, and she clearly wanted him.

The last realization almost swamped him. He took another swallow of the brandy and set it aside. He did not want to render himself unable to enjoy the wanton angel reaching for him.

He lay down and pulled her into his arms, belatedly thinking he should have at least removed his boots. But then her soft, yielding body was full against him, moving against his hard, painfully aroused body, and he dismissed all thoughts but of her and their pleasure.

She backed away for a moment when her thigh made contact with his rigid manhood, but somehow he knew it was surprise, not fear. He grasped her bottom in both hands and eased her against him. She moved instinctively, welcoming his body to hers after their recent separation.

Marisa placed her hands against his chest, and Gabriel could not bear to have the shirt separate her flesh from his. He tugged at the fabric, but before he could tear it, she lowered his hand and, with infinite care, removed the garment.

She moved her hands over his torso with maddening patience, intent on touching every single inch of his bared skin. It was as if his nerve endings were exposed as well, for her faint skimming movements made him gasp and nearly writhe with impatience.

Finally, she tentatively touched a nipple, gasping with delight when it instantly puckered. She plucked at the hardened tip before doing the same to the other nipple, captivated by his body's reactions.

She extended the tip of her tongue to his nipple and repeated everything Gabriel had done to her in the bath earlier. With a strength of will he had no idea he possessed, Gabriel clasped her head in both of his hands, stopping the exquisite torture. He would go insane otherwise.

"Gabriel," she rasped. She strained to touch him, but he moved her away, until at last she was lying back against the pillow.

He lay next to her and, when he felt able to talk, he said with a grin, "Did I not say the student was bound to instruct the tutor?"

Marisa snuggled next to him, laying her head in the crook of his shoulder. "Is there more to this lesson?" she asked, swirling a light hand over his chest.

Biting back a groan, yet secretly thrilled by her bold nature, Gabriel answered, "I thought to show you one other deed."

She raised her head.

"Angel, you may call a halt at any time." He tangled his fingers through her hair, enthralled as always by its silky beauty. "Should you not like something, you have but to tell me."

"What is there not to like?"

"With you, my wanton, probably nothing."

Before she could answer further, Gabriel turned until he was on his side, facing her. After several long kisses, he held her eyes captive while inching her nightrail until it was bunched around her waist.

He touched her bared hip ever-so-lightly, yet he was not surprised when Marisa flinched. He kissed her again, to reassure her. Her head bobbed once, as if signaling her acceptance of the boldness he dared. Gabriel's heart caught in his throat as he smoothed his hand up her hip, over the curve of her waist, resting momentarily on the fullness of her breast.

Gabriel pressed her onto her back, his lips still connected with hers, sliding his hand over her stomach, her hips, her impossibly tiny waist. He released her mouth and watched as her eyelids fluttered open.

She was so damned passionate! Watching her, wanting her response to tell him how much more he dared, he slid his hand down the flat plane of her stomach. As he neared the top of her thighs, her eyes flickered, yet she remained silent. Her breathing quickened and she moved about restlessly, as if unsure what she should do.

One touch. He would content himself with one forbidden touch of her. He cupped her womanhood with one shaky hand, halting at her gasp to give her another reassuring kiss.

"If you do not like this," he murmured, "you have but to tell me."

She nodded her understanding and then, without a hint of hesitation, returned his kiss.

Her complete and utter trust knocked the breath from his chest. Indeed, her kiss seemed designed to reassure him. Steeling himself against the certain pleasure he knew awaited him, and breathless with the anticipation of it, Gabriel moved his fingers lower and eased inside her. She stiffened for a moment, but then, whether out of curiosity, or pleasure, or both, she relaxed, permitting him to press deeper.

He felt giddy at the heat enveloping him, and he gritted his teeth at the impossible thought of that wet sheath one day surrounding his manhood. He halted, not surprised to find he had maneuvered himself closer to the foot of the bed. With a sigh, he leaned his forehead against Marisa's stomach, pressing a kiss against her navel.

"Angel, your sweetness shall be the end of me. And at this moment," he confessed, "there is nothing I desire more."

"I do not desire your demise, Gabriel." Her mouth lifted in a weak smile. "Leastwise, not anymore."

He grinned and then rubbed his thumb against the spot that was the center of her sensations. Marisa nearly lifted off the bed. When she returned, Gabriel slid further down, his gaze locked with hers as he made his slow descent.

"Brave lass," he whispered, his lips hovering where his thumb had been a moment earlier.