Samantha James (18 page)

“Very good, milord.” The butler stepped forward and offered his elbow, his eyes unusually soft. “Milady?”

Once they were out of earshot, Gabriel turned to the sergeant, his features cast in stone. “Now then, Sergeant. You say my wife was abducted?”

“Yes, milord. After the driver was struck down, the scoundrel leaped on the box and left straightaway with your wife inside, and God help anyone in his path—oh, but these thieves are a treacherous lot! ’Twas sheer luck that I happened to see the rogue and took off after him. Your wife managed to leap out of the coach but the rascal saw her and stopped. That was when I caught up with them.”

“She came to no harm at his hands?”

“No, milord, she assured me she did not, though he frightened her half out of her wits, poor lady.” The man’s chest swelled with self-importance. “I doubt that would have been the case had my arrival not been so fortuitous. I’ve no doubt ’twas thievery he had in mind—that and who knows what else.”

“And I am thankful for your intervention, Sergeant.” Gabriel paused. “I trust that you were able to apprehend the rogue?”

A little of the starch went out of the sergeant’s posture. “Unfortunately, milord, while I assisted your wife, he escaped.” He shook his head. “By now I’m afraid there’s little chance of ever catching up to him.”

“I see.” Gabriel paused. “Sergeant,” he said slowly, “is there any sign the abduction might have been planned?”

The man looked startled. “Planned? You mean that your wife was
meant
to be taken?”

“Exactly.”

The sergeant scratched his chin, considering. “Oh, I doubt it, milord,” he said heartily. “Your man Thomas should be along shortly—he was not injured seriously—but he gave no indication it might be so. As I’m sure you are aware, milord, the gentry—and in particular, the ladies—are a prime target for such riff-raff.”

Gabriel nodded and led him to the door. “I thank you again, Sergeant. And it would be greatly appreciated if you would notify me should this brigand be caught.”

The sergeant tipped his hat. “You have my word on it, milord.”

Once he was gone Gabriel headed straight for Cassie’s bedchamber. He stopped at the threshold, his shoulders filling the doorway. Gloria had just poured the last bucketful of hot water into the hip bath. Slow curls of steam drifted toward the ceiling.

Cassie stood near the window. Gabriel had the uneasy sensation she had neither moved nor spoken since entering the room. Her head was bowed low. One hand still clutched the tattered edges of her gown together over her shoulder.

“Cassie.”

Both she and the maid turned. Gloria dropped a curtsy but Cassie still said nothing.

He crossed to her. “You must be hungry,” he said quietly. “Would you like a tray in your room?”

She averted her gaze. “No,” she whispered. “I—I’m not hungry.”

Gloria spoke up then. “If you please, sir, p’rhaps
milady would like a bit of hot chocolate. She’s very fond of it, y’know. She has it every morning.”

It was Gabriel who answered, though his eyes did not waver from Cassie’s profile. “Thank you, Gloria. Would you see to it, please?”

The little maid bobbed. “Most certainly, sir.” Gabriel stopped her before she left, whispering something in her ear.

He returned to Cassie, laying his fingers atop hers where they rested on the slope of her shoulder. Hers were ice-cold.

“Your bath is ready, Cassie.”

That brought her eyes skipping back to his in a flash. Gabriel smiled almost in spite of himself. “I did promise we would one day bathe together, did I not?”

Her wide-eyed dismay did not go unnoticed. His smile withered. His gaze dropped to her lips—they were soft and slightly parted. The urge to part them beneath the demanding pressure of his took hold, but he swiftly quelled the impulse.

“You have nothing to fear,” he said very quietly. “I am not such a cad as you think.”

He gave her no time to reject him but set to work on the hooks at the back of her gown. She offered no resistance but a faint pink flush crept beneath her skin. That she gave herself over to him was a sign of just how shaken she really was—such unconditional surrender was the last thing Gabriel had expected. His mood turned grim by the time he’d finished, however. The ivory smoothness of her skin was marred by dozens of scratches and bruises.

Cassie flushed as he helped her into the tub,
acutely aware that there was no evading the critical regard that saw so much of her and revealed so little of himself. She sank below the waterline as far as she could, desperate to hide her nakedness.

She started nervously when she felt his touch. The back of his knuckles brushed her cheek, then firm fingers grasped her jaw and turned her face to the lamplight glowing from the corner.

His thumb brushed the puffy skin on the right side of her lip. “Did he do this, too?”

Her lashes fell in answer. She drew her knees up to her breasts and said nothing, for indeed there was no need to.

Gabriel didn’t understand the blind, irrational anger that swept through him. He told himself it was only because she’d been taken advantage of by one who was stronger than she—not because he cared…never that. But a muscle in his cheek betrayed the depth of his fury. Never had he known a rage as encompassing as that which possessed him now.

“Would you recognize him if you saw him again?”

Cassie shuddered. The heat of the water had seeped through to her muscles, warm and soothing. But all at once it was as if she’d been plunged into a sea of ice.

“Yes…no.” She faltered, suddenly feeling wholly inadequate. “I…I just don’t know.”

Gabriel made no reply. He handed her a sponge and turned his back, allowing her the privacy he knew she craved. Cassie washed hurriedly, beset by the notion he would turn back around at any second. An inner voice chided her, for what did it
matter anyway? He had seen what no other man had ever seen. And he had
touched
her in ways she had never dreamed a man might touch a woman…The hand holding the sponge stilled, directly above her heart. Her throat tightened oddly.

A part of her wished desperately that he would leave. Another part of her longed just as fervently for him to stay, for she did not want to be alone. Yet his nearness was an unsettling reminder of all that had passed between them only the night before—Lord, but it seemed a lifetime had gone by since then!

Gabriel’s nerves were keenly attuned to her every move. Eventually the splash of the water ceased. He glanced over his shoulder to find her eyes fixed upon him, wide and faintly distressed.

He beat down the heated rush that ignited in his veins, pooling hot and heavy in his loins. Her shoulders were bare and glistening. Never before had he been so sharply aware of one woman—and his own hungry, masculine desires to possess her. Yet the very nakedness that so sorely tested his willpower was the very thing that saved her, for her vulnerability pierced him as nothing else could have.

He raised his brow with an elegant sweep. “Finished?” he murmured.

She nodded. Bracing her slender arms against the side of the tub, she rose, turning immediately into the length of toweling that awaited her in his hands.

The downy softness engulfed her first, and then his arms, as he lifted her from the tub. Cassie stood docilely as he proceeded to dry her. His touch was
light and impersonal, and he was carefully considerate of the bruised, tender areas that marked her flesh. But her fiery blush proclaimed the depth of her embarrassment by the time he pulled a soft white nightgown over her head and twitched it into place.

There was a knock at the door. Gabriel answered it, taking a small tray from Gloria into his hands. Cassie hugged herself, feeling naked and exposed despite the fact she was now covered from head to foot. Gabriel inclined his head toward the chair before the fireplace, indicating she should sit. Once she was seated, he held out a delicate china cup and saucer. The sweet, enticing odor of chocolate teased her nostrils.

Cassie sipped the hot, sweet liquid, grateful for the opportunity to busy her hands. She was not aware of the piercing gray eyes that watched as she drank every last drop of the brew. Not until she had finished did she chance to look up and find his intense gaze upon her.

He had removed his jacket and rolled up his shirtsleeves, baring strong, muscular forearms. The muscles of her stomach clenched. His elbow was propped against the mantel. His pose was casual, yet purely masculine; it appeared as if nothing—or no one—could ever hurt him.

It was he who broke the silence. “Giles told me you have been gone every afternoon the past few weeks.” His eyes sheared directly into hers. “How is it you failed to mention this to me?” Despite the quiet of his tone, his words were no less than a demand.

Cassie swallowed bravely. It was difficult not
to retreat from his frown. “I was not aware you cared to know my whereabouts at every moment of the day.”

Gabriel’s scrutiny sharpened. “That is hardly an answer,” he said curtly. “Now if you please, I would like to know where you were today—and all those other days.”

Panic flared. She could not tell him where she had been without telling him
why
, and that was the one thing she wanted to avoid at all costs. He thought little enough of her now—he would think even less of her if he were aware of the truth.

In this, at least, her dignity served her well. She stared at the rim of the cup she held in her hands, determined to reveal no more than necessary.

He swore under his breath. “Why must you be so stubborn? Dammit, Yank, I am concerned for your safety! ’Tis not safe to be wandering the streets of London alone.”

Still she avoided his gaze. “You need not trouble yourself. I was not wandering the streets, as you call it. I was in no danger”—she faltered—“at least not until tonight.”

“Then why will you not tell me where you were?” Two white lines of anger appeared alongside his mouth when she shook her head. Three strides brought him before her. He set aside the cup and saucer, caught her shoulders, and pulled her up before him.

“Were you meeting someone?” He knew the way she started that she had. “Christopher? Is that the reason for your reluctance? Was this a lover’s tryst?”

“No!” she cried. “Christopher is my friend—no
more, and I will swear to it on the Cross if that is what it takes to convince you!”

“Who then?”

His patience was clearly at an end. There was a tempest alive and brewing in his eyes. Cassie fought a scalding rush of tears, the muscles in her throat locked tight.

“I was with…your father,” she whispered. “I—I have been spending the afternoons…at his townhouse.”

Gabriel was astounded. “What! You and my father—surely you jest!”

Wrenched with shame, she stammered, “’Tis because I—I cannot read…I cannot read!”

There was a stunned silence. “Good God. Do not tell me that
he
has been teaching you.”

“Yes…yes!” Was he truly so heartless as to make her say it again? “He-he teaches me himself so no one else will know—so no further disgrace will befall the family.”

Gabriel’s frustrated anger fled, as if it had never been. He sighed wearily. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Why?” She gave a bitter half-sob. “Am I to be spared no humiliation? It would have pleased you to no end to know that I could not read—it would have been just one more thing to flaunt to your father…the poor little Yankee you dragged from the gutter, who possesses neither money nor title nor even the slightest scrap of knowledge!”

He scowled. “Now it’s you who wounds
me—
”

“No! It’s true—you would have.” To her horror, a tear beaded down her cheek. Then another, and another. “You know it’s true!” Above all, Cassie
did not want him to see her like this. So foolish. So confused. But all at once her tenuous control was gone. She buried her face in her hands and began to cry. Helplessly. Pitifully.

Her shoulders were shaking uncontrollably. Slowly, with an almost painstaking hesitance, his arms came around her. Small hands wound into the front of his shirt. He bent and folded her into his embrace, then sat in the chair, cradling her in his lap.

He could feel her trying to hold back the anguish that rent her body. It was no use. “I’m sorry,” she cried on a watery sob. “It’s just as you said it would be. I am a burden…an encumbrance. You must wish that—that horrible man had killed me. I-I thought he was going to…Oh, God, I-I wish I
were
dead…”

Gabriel went utterly still, both inside and out. “Don’t say that.” His whisper was numb and strained. “Don’t even think it!”

He stroked her hair, the shallow groove of her spine. Gradually the laudanum began to take hold. She stirred. “Something’s wrong.” Drowsy and confused, she struggled to keep her lids from closing. “I feel so strange.”

With his fingertips he brushed tear-damp strands of honey-gold from her cheeks. “It’s all right. I asked Gloria to put several drops of laudanum in your chocolate to help you sleep. Just relax and don’t fight it.”

His explanation seemed to satisfy her. Her lashes, dark and spiked with tears, began to droop. Soon she quieted until she lay limply against him, asleep at last.

He lifted her, bearing her to the bed and laying her carefully on the mattress, then pulled the covers up over her. But when he would have straightened, she flung out a hand, groping blindly for his.

“Don’t leave me, Gabriel. Don’t leave me.” Her eyes snapped open. Even as he watched, glistening tears brimmed and overflowed. “Why—why do you hate me?” she cried brokenly. “Will you always hate me?”

Gabriel felt he’d been slammed in the gut with an iron fist. Guilt burned a searing hole deep in his breast. He stood, his entire body stiff, an awful tightening squeezing his heart.

Never had he been so torn.

He stared at the small hand so desperately gripping his own. A pain ripped through him, so searing it drove the very breath from his lungs. Christ, what was she doing to him?

Christopher had fallen under her spell. So had the dowager duchess of Greensboro. Giles. Lord, even his father! What magic did she possess that she so easily wove a spell around all those with whom she came in contact?