Robin Schone (46 page)

Reaching for Victoria, he held her thick, blue wool cloak while she slipped out of first one sleeve and

then the next. Efficiently the butler took the cloak, gloved fingers deftly avoiding Gabriel.

Gabriel peeled off his black leather gloves; Victoria reached up, copper silk bodice straining across her

breasts—she had sensitive breasts, beautiful breasts, breasts that even now he hungered to feed off of—

and slid out the hat pin securing her hat. Her copper-tinted brown hair was secured in a French twist; he

would free it when they got home. Her gown molded her waist; he would remove it in the privacy of his

suite.

Or perhaps he wouldn’t wait.

Perhaps he would introduce her to the pleasure to be had while straddling his hips inside a moving

carriage, the bump and grind of the wheels carrying them both to orgasm.

Taking off his bowler hat, Gabriel dropped his black leather gloves inside the satin-lined felt. The butler

silently accepted the hat, fingers skirting Gabriel’s.

Gabriel did not wait for the butler’s assistance in helping him out of his reefer coat; nor did the butler

expect him to.

He held out his left hand for Victoria.

The more she touched him, the more he craved her touch.

Peeling off her gloves, Victoria thrust them into the reticule looped over her wrist. Heat shot through his

testicles: the pleasure of naked flesh embracing naked flesh.

Antoine did not need to show Gabriel the way. The sharp click of Victoria’s heels rang out; they were

accompanied by the softer pad of his own leather boots.

“Monsieur Gabriel.”

Gabriel paused, left foot on a marble step. Victoria paused at his side. “Yes?”

“Je suis heureux que vous soyez venus.”

I am happy that you came.

It was not a butler who spoke, it was the man who had waited upon tables and clients inside Gabriel’s old

house; he had eagerly jumped at the opportunity to become a butler seven months earlier.

His hand convulsively tightened around Victoria’s fingers.
“Suis ainsi je,
Antoine.”

Gabriel lied.

He did not know if he was glad or not.

Echoing steps spiraled upward, the past approaching, the future at his side.

An oak floor ran the length of the upstairs hallway. Gabriel silently traversed the distance ...

remembering ... trying not to remember ...

The door at the end of the hallway was open, revealing a glimpse of pale blue silk-covered walls . . .

more oak floor . .. the sweet pungency of roses.

I
k now my flower well. ..

Taking a deep breath, Gabriel released Victoria’s hand and sought the heat in the small of her back. She

stepped over the threshold, Gabriel following.

Violet eyes locked with silver eyes.

Inside Michael’s gaze Gabriel saw the eyes of the thirteen-year-old boy who had taught him to read and

to play the gentleman in exchange for lessons on how to fight, to steal, and to kill.

But Gabriel had never wanted Michael to kill.

And now he had killed for Gabriel.

The voice of the second man—Yves—rang inside his ears.
You love Gabriel, Michael.

I have always loved him.

But Michael had thought his name was Gabriel; now he knew differently.

Michael had thought he was invulnerable; he now knew that was false, too.

Gabriel waited; dimly he was aware of a low, feminine voice— Anne. It stopped midsentence.

“Miss Aimes?” an unfamiliar masculine voice demanded.

Gabriel did not look at the stranger: he knew what the man’s profession was, if not who the man himself

actually was.

“Is this the man and woman whom you are waiting for?” The stranger sounded slightly garrulous.

The minister had been kept waiting by an angel.

Michael’s violet eyes reflected the irony.

Suddenly Anne stood before Victoria. Elegant in a sky blue silk gown.

She was three inches shorter than Victoria.

A spinster and a governess.

Two women who had never known love but who now glowed from the love of a man.

Victoria solemnly pulled out a rectangular silk-wrapped box from her reticule. “I brought you and

Michael a wedding gift.”

Anne’s pale blue eyes reflected Gabriel’s surprise. Hurt slashed through him, that Victoria had felt it

necessary to keep her gift a secret.

Flushing with pleasure, Anne accepted the silk-wrapped box. “There was no need. You and Gabriel are

all that we wished for.”

A darker flush reddened Victoria’s cheeks. “It is nothing, really. Just something that you admired.”

Anne stilled.
“A godemiché.”

“Just the right size,” Victoria returned evenly.

Laughter.

It boiled up inside Gabriel’s chest until it ripped out of his throat.

And with the laughter came the need for Victoria.

Hands blindly reaching, Gabriel pulled her back against his chest. Victoria stiffened in surprise, spine

rigid, buttocks fitting into the niche of his groin. He wrapped his arms around the woman who had brought

him the gift of touch and who now gave him the gift of laughter. Instantly Victoria melted, her bones

becoming his bones, her flesh becoming his flesh.

Violet eyes caught his gaze.

And Gabriel remembered . . .

II est bien, Gabriel. . . It’s all right, my friend.

The laughter died as quickly as it had stopped.

It
was
all right.

Turning his face into the warm fragrance of her skin, Gabriel whispered the words he could no longer

hold inside,
“Je t’aime, Victoire.
”

THE END

ROBIN SCHONE lives in a Chicago suburb with her music aficionado husband. She loves reading,

swimming, socializing, listening to music (preferably rock and/or classic rock) and is a staunch defender of

human rights in general, and of women’s sexuality worldwide. Robin is the
USA Today
bestselling author

of
The Lover
as well as “A Lady’s Pleasure” in
Captivated,
and “A Man And A Woman” in

Fascinated,
Kensington Publishing Corporation’s groundbreaking erotic historical romance anthologies.

Her second novel—
The Lady’s Tutor
—is
& Romantic Times
All-Time Favorite Pick, and was hailed by

Judith Stanton, a professor of women’s literature and feminist theory, as “...a new frontier in the romance’

s mapping of female desire.” All four novels are Doubleday Book Club Selections. Robin loves hearing

from readers. Write to her at P.O. Box 72725, Roselle, IL 60172 (please include a SASE for reply). Or

visit her website at www.robinschone.com