Rogues Gallery (15 page)

Marisa ahemed.

"I am merely recounting the tale as it occurred," he explained with as innocent an expression as he could muster.

"That was my precise fear," she replied, crossing her arms across her chest.

Her jealousy warmed Gabriel's heart, so he embellished the tale just a bit more. "The lady nearly swooned in my arms," he said, staggering back as if unable to bear the heavy load foisted onto him.

Marisa laughed at his antics. He completed his pantomime of propping up the large woman, brushing off his hands with obvious satisfaction, and then lunging forward at the last moment as if to catch her once more.

"Please be so kind as to hand me your valuables," Gabriel said, his hand extended, as he continued the play. He turned his head and, in the blustering voice of Lord Colecroft, announced with hearty indignation, "We shall do no such thing."

He spun around and acted as if he had just revived from the swoon. "Now, dear," he said in a falsetto voice. "You know we must, lest—lest this rogue demand
other
payment." He swept his eyes up and down in the leer Lady Colecroft had given him.

"Oh, Lord Midnight. How dreadful for you!"

Gabriel bowed his head in acknowledgment of her feigned sympathy.

"How did you escape unscathed from such a dire situation?"

"Minx!"

"When did you bestow your scarf on her?"

"A scarf?" he asked, intrigued by Marisa's cool tone of voice.

"The scarf emblazoned with a crescent moon," she informed him. "The mere mention of it in the papers caused Lord Westbrook more than a little bit of distress, though I have no idea why it should."

"Indeed," Gabriel said. He had hoped his uncle would hear of the crescent moon, the symbol a young Gabriel had claimed as his personal crest. Apparently Edmund had been stirred by its reappearance in his life.

"It is a favor I have never received," Marisa added.

"Ah, but neither do they receive midnight visits," he reminded her with a wink.

Gabriel wanted to tease her some more, merely to see her petulant expression at what she considered his excessive gallantry toward Lady Colecroft. Even worse, apparently, was his shocking betrayal for not bestowing a crescent scarf on her. Wisely, he refrained from further teasing, not wanting her to remain angry with him for any length of time.

He crossed the room and knelt by her side. "Angel, I wanted to bestow such a gift on you, but for both our safety's sake, I could not." He raised her hand and pressed a kiss to her warm skin.

"I understand," she said. "Still, I cannot be anything but dismayed that you should so easily bestow your favors on so many others." She sighed. "I missed you terribly, and feared you should not return."

He squeezed her hand. "You shall put that fear from your mind, for I am unable to resist you."

He almost added a reckless vow that as long as he drew breath he would always return to her side. He halted the rash declaration just in time, for he knew he was unable to execute it.

Her breath caught. "I wish—"

She turned her head away. Gabriel wondered if she wished her gallant courtier could do more than visit her clandestinely, or whether she knew such visits must cease once she was wed. Gabriel knew he could not bear to visit her once she was Edmund's bride. Yet how could he prevent the nuptials from proceeding?

Gabriel grasped her chin and turned her to face him. Tears glittered in her eyes, much as she tried to hide them. It set off an answering ache in his chest, for he wanted to fulfill all of her heartfelt wishes, as well as his own.

"You wish what, my angel?"

"I wish you will tell me of your next daring exploit," she answered.

Her prevarication increased the pangs in his heart. Gabriel rose from his kneeling position and sat in the chair facing Marisa. "I shall do my best to accommodate such a delightful request," he managed in a light voice. "And now I would request you tell me what you have done this past sennight."

"Such pedestrian events do not bear repeating." After a pause, she brightened. "However, Lord Westbrook and Bernard are to leave for London tomorrow."

The import of that information slammed into him, and he blinked, trying to unearth some enthusiasm. He knew he should feel the same elation Marisa must be experiencing, for he did not want her to wed Edmund. This provided her the opportunity she had been awaiting for so long.

Instead, his heart plummeted. He realized in that moment he could not bear to have her gone from his life. She had made his days—and certainly his nights—a veritable delight. And for all his noble vows where she was concerned, he could not feel anything but dismay that this would be his final meeting with her.

"What do you propose to do?" His voice was flat with disapproval although he had meant to keep it neutral. "Have you a destination in mind or do you mean to ride off in any direction?"

She did not respond for a moment, clearly nonplussed by his answer. "I shall decide once I am away from here."

Gabriel's heart sank lower at the sight of her chin tilted with such defiance. He well knew her determination, yet he could not bear to see her come to harm just to escape becoming Lady Westbrook. "And once you have fled, how shall you provide for yourself? Have you considered that? Even with the skills to be a governess or lady's companion, what will you use for references?"

Marisa frowned, not at all happy with his relentless barrage of questions, or his pointing out her obvious lack of thorough planning.

Before she could forestall him, Gabriel continued. "It is possible you could pass yourself off as a widow—"

"Yes! I had not thought of that."

"But it still does not answer how you shall provide a roof over your head, or nourishment to keep on living."

Gabriel's heart ached at how this angel would have to earn her keep, and how he would be forced to confront her with the brutal truth. He could not bear to see her defiance dimmed, yet it seemed her escape would do just that.

Or was it merely his own newfound need for her that made him persuade her she was making the wrong choice?

"Do you wish me to wed Lord Westbrook?"

"No!" Gabriel ran a hand over his face. "No, that is what I desire the least." He tamped down the despair rising in his breast. "But there is nowhere for you to go once you leave, is there?" At the stubborn twist to her lips, he added, "You cannot return to your family, for your father will simply deposit you on Lord Westbrook's doorstep, complete with a clergyman in tow."

"I could ride with you," she countered, her voice so soft and tempting, he wished he could agree with her request.

"You are much too fine for that sort of life. I only do so because—" He swallowed, unable to divulge the real reason for his criminal existence. "Because I have nothing else."

"And you think I do?" Her chin quivered, and Gabriel's heart shattered at her next words. "I cannot marry him, I cannot. I do not know why, but I fear him," she whispered. "It must be whimsy on my part, for no one but me seems to notice it. Yet there is something so frightening about him."

Gabriel shivered, knowing she had good reason for her intuitive fear of the man. He could not resist such a heartfelt plea. But what could he do? Not for the first time Gabriel cursed his folly at encouraging her to view him as a gallant knight.

Nothing could be further from the truth.

Marisa took a ragged breath. "When he looks at me, it is terrible enough. But when he touches me—" She shuddered, burying her face in her hands. "I must leave while I can."

Gabriel's heart pulsed with protectiveness for this woman who had guarded his safety more than her own. Marisa was prepared to escape Edmund at any cost, instinctively aware of the evil that resided in her future husband. Yet Gabriel could not permit her to flee into another potential danger.

"Angel," he said.

He looked into her hopeful eyes. In the next instant he made a vow he knew in his heart he should not make.

Perhaps it would assuage his guilt at having once planned to ruin her for his mercenary schemes. And perhaps it was another selfish yearning that motivated him.

She was the only purity and goodness he had encountered in his misspent life. How could he do anything less than ensure that Edmund had no opportunity to sully her?

"I will do all in my power, I swear it, to see that you do not marry this man."

"Oh, Lord Midnight!" Marisa threw herself into Gabriel's arms, kissing his face while he attempted to settle her onto his lap. Once he had done so, she continued to thank him, both with words and heartfelt kisses.

Cursing himself for the fool he was, Gabriel took every one of the kisses. He gave her some of his own, forestalling the moment he delivered the news she would not want to hear.

"You must remain here until I can put my plan into effect."

Marisa halted in mid-kiss, her eyes flashing with disbelief. "No!"

"There is no other choice."

"There must be some other choice!" She scrambled off his lap and stalked across the room, putting too much distance between them.

"It is safer for you here," Gabriel argued.

She gaped at him as if he had taken leave of his senses. "How can you say it is safer here? I am living in Edmund's house. I am forced to endure his company each day. His attentions grow more lustful with every encounter." She put a hand to her lips as if to quell the rising hysteria.

Once more Gabriel's pride for her bravery collided with his hatred of Edmund. "Angel, I know it is difficult for you to remain here. I wish I did not have to ask it of you." He swallowed the bile rising in his throat at the thought of Edmund harming Marisa in any fashion. "But I will be better able to protect you if you are here, rather than traipsing about the countryside."

"I agree with that. But," she hesitated for the briefest of moments. "There is someone besides me who is in need of aid. And I cannot help them if I remain at Westbrook Hall."

Gabriel felt his stomach tie itself in knots. Jealousy coursed through his entire being, along with a brief flash of dismay. The brave miss had wanted to escape his uncle because she had a love elsewhere. He should have realized it before.

Despite his tangled emotions, Gabriel had to know who it was that made Marisa's expression soften, who inspired such unending devotion, who seemed the end of all his foolish hopes.

"Who is this person?"

"My aunt. Althea," Marisa answered.

Gabriel's heart lurched. He could scarce hear anything else she said because of the relief pounding in his ears. "Your aunt?"

"Yes," Marisa said, her eyes shining with love. "She has been the only person who has truly cared for me, especially after my mother's death. She is not daft, as Father insists," Marisa said with evident irritation. "She's a very gentle soul and I cannot abandon her to my father's schemes."

"What does he plan to do?"

"He said he would send her to Bedlam, and I fear he will still make good on his threat."

"Why has he not done so before now?"

Marisa held his gaze without flinching. "Because I finally agreed to wed Lord Westbrook."

Gabriel uttered an oath at the heartless father Marisa battled with. His admiration for her, however, rose several degrees.

"Where is your aunt now?"

"She is in London, with Father."

"And he does not know of your plans for your aunt?"

She shook her head. "I have written to Aunt Althea several times expressing my joy at the upcoming nuptials. I am certain Father reads her letters, and believes I have capitulated at last to his stronger will."

She laughed with utter joy at her father's misperceptions. Gabriel could do nothing but join in.

Still, Gabriel could not conceive of any method to save Marisa's precious aunt, however much he wanted to. Marisa's father would have the woman safely tucked away, especially if she were the means for coercing his headstrong daughter.

"Shall your aunt attend the betrothal ball?"

"No, but she will attend the wedding. Father will have her there as a reminder to me of the consequences should I attempt a last-minute rebellion."

"Then it appears you can best serve your aunt's interests by remaining here."

Marisa bit her lip, her eyes roaming his face. Gabriel fought the urge to look away, wondering if she would find what she sought. Despite the uneasiness in his soul, he offered a fervent prayer that she would.

"Why should I trust you?"

Gabriel took her face in his hands and gazed into the guileless eyes that robbed him of rational thought. He rubbed his thumbs across the delicate skin covering her cheekbones, marveling once more at her complete lack of fear where he was concerned.

"Angel, trust me, if you will, for the same reasons you have done so from our first meeting."

He watched the emotions flit across her beautiful face. Clearly she struggled, weighing the consequences of his request to trust in him when she had not a single reason to do so. He was asking her to forego a certain escape on the chance that he would—or could—save her from everything she feared.

He opened his mouth to withdraw the offer. He could not force her to make a choice like this, not when it concerned someone she loved so much.

Yet he wanted her to believe in him. He needed her faith in that moment, more than anything else he had ever held dear. He continually asked for her trust, and each time she gave it willingly, without faltering. Yet he had never offered any to her.

Gabriel raised his hand to the strip of leather around his eyes. He hesitated. He had never trusted anyone but his rogues with his identity. Once he removed the mask, Marisa would be able to identify him in great detail should she wish to betray him to the authorities.

Marisa watched him, clearly intrigued.

Gabriel untied the knot holding his mask in place. He lowered the thin piece of black leather, shocked at how vulnerable he felt.

A tender smile lit Marisa's face. She traced her fingers around his eyes, and down his nose, as if memorizing every bit of his features. His heart thumped madly, though whether at her delicate touch or his fear of exposure, he was not certain.