Sins of a Virgin (36 page)

Gabriel groaned. “I sincerely hope it’s sooner.”

She shuddered as she rubbed against him. “It was an empty threat.”

He slid his hand between her legs, stroking until the flush spread again over her face and neck and her eyes bored desperately into his.

“Please, Gabriel. Please.”

She would never regret giving herself to him. He would make sure of it.

He gently lifted her back under him and thrust his hips forward.

M
adeline blinked at the new sensation. The momentary flash of pain hadn’t made her flinch. She was used to pain. However, this feeling of fullness was interesting. It burned slightly as if she were being stretched too far, but there was also a small frisson of pleasure. Curious, Madeline swiveled her hips, experimenting.

If this had been a man from the auction, she would have been tossing about, panting and pretending to find pleasure while the man grunted and hammered into her. Instead, Gabriel poised above her holding himself perfectly still, every tendon standing at attention, sweat shimmering on his brow, while she learned to find pleasure in their joining.

She loved him.

Her chest ached with the weight of the words, and she almost found the strength to speak them aloud. Almost.

Madeline dragged her finger down Gabriel’s chest to where their bodies joined. He shuddered as if with fever, and that small reaction chased away any residual discomfort. She shifted again, pressing herself upward. This time the motion brought a blissful moan to her lips that she didn’t bother hiding. She lifted her hips again, filling herself completely.

Gabriel spoke through clenched teeth. “I was trying to go slow.”

Madeline dug her fingers into his buttocks when he started to pull away, drawing him even closer, desperate not to lose the sparking tension inside her. “I don’t want to go slow.”

He nipped her earlobe. “Then you’ll have to let go. Trust me, Madeline.”

As her fingers unclenched, he began to move. She couldn’t breathe for a few heartbeats. Couldn’t think. And the glorious thing was, she didn’t have to.

She abandoned herself to being loved by Gabriel and to loving him in return. The first time in the garden had been about pleasure; this was about love. Being cherished. She raked her hands over his back as hot, shattering sensations consumed her.

Ecstasy slammed through her, each wave more powerful than the last. She cried out Gabriel’s name until the deep, throbbing bliss robbed her of her voice.

Gabriel tensed above her, thrusting deep and hard as he found his own satisfaction with a cry. After a moment, he collapsed on the bed next to her, pulling her tight against his chest before planting a kiss on the nape of her neck.

In the safety of his arms, as her eyes drifted shut, she took the biggest risk of her life. “I love you, Gabriel.”

Chapter Thirty-two

W
hen the mattress shifted suddenly in the darkness, Madeline grabbed for her knife. Even before her hand found her bare ankle, she’d realized it was Gabriel, turning in his sleep.

Gabriel’s hand stroked her back. “You’re not asleep,” he said, his own voice remarkably clear and alert.

“Neither are you.”

His hand skimmed over her waist. “Regrets?”

Madeline enjoyed his touch. “No.” And she didn’t. At least not precisely. She didn’t regret making love to Gabriel for an instant. She didn’t doubt Gabriel would make some woman a fine husband. She didn’t fear in the least that he’d be like her father.

What she feared was her ability to be his wife.

Her first instinct in the middle of the night was to reach for her knife. What did she know about planning menus or mending socks or whatever it was wives did all day?

Gabriel’s arms encircled for her again, pulling her against him. Madeline sighed and settled against the hard muscles of his chest. As he lifted the rumpled linen sheet over them, warding off the chill, his hands skimmed light and nearly weightless over her. When she would have sought out his lips, he stopped her. “I haven’t had the chance to hold you. And if you move, I won’t be able to resist ravishing you.”

Madeline smiled. She wasn’t used to being coddled, but it turned out to be quite pleasant.

She could make this work, couldn’t she? Of course she’d responded the way she had when startled. The need for survival had been ingrained in her. Last night had changed her status as a virgin, not her past as a spy.

Neither had it changed her overactive brain.

“What are your plans for the investigation?”

“I think we need to go back to the beginning.”

The
we
in his statement was the most romantic thing he could have said. Then she frowned. Shouldn’t she be worrying about him? Nagging him about being careful? But how in the blazes could she be expected to do that when she intended to be at his side? The doubts about her ability to be a good wife returned to the edges of her thoughts. “Perhaps your witness was wrong about seeing the man before. Perhaps he wasn’t the father of one of the students,” she said quickly.

Gabriel nodded against her hair. “Or perhaps he was drunk and drew the wrong thing on the paper. I know. I’ve been playing through every possible option. Your life is still in danger and I have no bloody idea who is threatening you.” His voice was harsh, at odds with his gentle hands at her waist. “I cannot shake the fear that I won’t know who the murderer is until he has his hands around your throat.”

Madeline hoped the bastard tried. She knew a few tricks she’d like to show him.

“I was too damned sure of myself this time. Perhaps Potts was right after all.”

“Potts is a dolt.”

That elicited a short bark of laughter from Gabriel. “You don’t even know what he said.”

“If it wasn’t praising your incredible skill, he is a dolt.”

Gabriel’s lips found the sensitive spot at the base of her neck.

“You said the drawing was only a rough outline,” she said.

Gabriel shifted as if to rise, then stilled. “The drawing is in my study at home. Otherwise I’d show you.” The arms around her were tense, the sated languor was gone.

There was as little chance of his going to sleep now as there had ever been for her. “Your house isn’t far, is it?”

His breath hitched for a moment.

“It’s only, what, ten minutes?”

Gabriel exhaled. “Don’t you mind me dragging you from your bed before dawn?”

Madeline grinned, climbing from the bed. “Who is the first one up?”

Gabriel groaned, his eyes swept her naked body with renewed hunger. “Remind me very quickly why we’re getting out of this bed.”

“The sketch.” Positioning herself in the lone beam of moonlight filtering through the curtains, she slowly bent to retrieve her shift from the floor. While she might doubt her suitability as a wife, she knew her power as a woman. With Gabriel watching, the slide of satin going onto her skin was as sensual as it was coming off.

Gabriel swore. “We’ll go in the morning.”

Madeline peered at him from under her lashes. “We still have the entire carriage ride over.”

Gabriel’s snort of laughter sounded remarkably anguished. “How long until we can have the coach here?”

By the time they had dressed, Canterbury had roused her coachman and arranged for the vehicle to be brought around.

Once inside, Gabriel settled her on his lap. He traced the bridge of her nose with his finger. “You look beautiful in this.” He grinned and fingered the lace barely covering her breasts. “But I like you even more without it.”

A horseman cantered past the coach.

Madeline had already straightened and slid from Gabriel’s lap before she remembered she no longer cared what other men thought.

Gabriel studied her, his face suddenly serious. “No regrets about last night?”

“I already said no.” Madeline shifted and yanked her twisted skirts free. “My reaction to the horseman was habit, nothing more.” Another remnant of her training she’d have to free herself from.

His gaze searched hers. “We’ll work on that.”

She was glad the darkness hid the embarrassment in her cheeks. How many more things about her would she need to change?

Madeline peered out of the window with curiosity as the coach slowed. She’d expected Gabriel to have a bachelor’s flat somewhere. Instead, the coach stopped in front of a charming row house.

The inside was decorated in dark woods and muted tones; the darkness hid the exact color. But despite the obvious care that had been taken by a housekeeper, the room managed to look unused.

“You aren’t here much, are you?”

“Not in the past.”

Madeline trailed her hand up a carefully polished railing as she climbed the stairs. What would she do while Gabriel was out apprehending criminals? She would have been faced with excess time after finishing the auction as well, but this seemed much more real. More worrisome.

What if she grew restless? Missed her life as a spy and the freedom she’d grown accustomed to? She loved Gabriel, but what if that wasn’t enough?

She followed Gabriel into his study. He lit several candles, the flickering yellow glow revealing a desk covered in stacks of folders three-deep. But despite the number of files, the piles were neat and Gabriel showed no hesitation in selecting the one he wanted.

Madeline stood at the window and checked the street while he opened the pasteboard folder. “This room has a nice view of the street.”

“You should see the perspective from my bedroom.”

“You could just ask me up there.”

“It actually has a clear view of the entire block.”

She eyed the massive amount of information. “Let’s start at the beginning.”

Systematically, she began to question everything they knew about the Simm murder, ensuring she wasn’t lacking any important details. Every person he’d spoken to. Every room he’d searched. Soon, Gabriel had dragged two chairs over to the desk so they could delve into the documents more easily. Finally, with the first light of dawn seeping in the window, she paused, rubbing ink-smudged fingers over her bleary eyes. “I’m not driving you mad, am I?” she asked.

He surveyed her with bemused fascination. “No, you’re keeping me sane.”

Madeline looked down at her notes again to hide the warm pleasure from his words.

“You shouldn’t have carried Susan’s case on your own for so long.”

“It is my responsibility.”

Madeline traced her finger along the crease in his brow. “Now it is mine as well. Where is the drawing you found?”

Gabriel pulled out a half sheet of paper.

Something about it— “The coachman didn’t draw this.”

Gabriel jerked forward. “What?”

“The handwriting. This was written by the same man who left me the note.”

“You are certain?” He swore. “The murderer intended for me to find it. And I was so damned desperate I didn’t even question it. I am too close.”

“You aren’t desperate. You’re determined. Passionate. Thorough.”

“Not thorough enough.”

“I never showed you my note. Besides, if you hadn’t insisted on continuing to investigate this case, no one would have made the connection between this sketch and the note threatening me. It is only because you were so dedicated that we found the truth.”

“But I wasted far too much time investigating the wrong man. While all that time one of your bidders might be— Bloody hell. Your bid book.”

She stared at him.

“All your bidders signed the book. We can compare the writing on your note and the drawing to the signatures in the book.”

Thirty minutes later, they were huddled in the coach over the ledger. The first three pages of names didn’t look at all familiar.

“He might have disguised his writing,” Gabriel said.

Madeline nodded. “But there are usually traits they don’t think to hide, like how hard they press the quill. The spacing of their letters.”

She turned the page. It had to be one of the men who had come to the auction late— She slammed her hand over the entry. Some wild impulse made her want to tear the page from the book so Gabriel would never see it.

“My father?’” Both words were hoarse.

“No!” She took a deep breath and moved her hand.

Madeline stared at the writing that perfectly matched the letters in the drawing beside her.

The Earl of Danbury.

Chapter Thirty-three

E
verything about Gabriel was wrong, from his posture to the cold stillness of his hand as he took the ledger from her.

“Danbury’s the killer,” she said. The odds someone had used his handwriting to forge the other notes was low. After all, the killer might have found out that Billingsgate was one of the suspects, but Danbury was never under the slightest suspicion. “His name wasn’t on the list of men who had children at the school.”

“A few of the children are paid for anonymously. Or perhaps he’d met Miss Simm somewhere else. Bourne must have recognized him when I came to question him at the tavern. That’s why he fled. I led the killer right to my witness.” Gabriel was silent for a few moments, but when he spoke, his voice was harsh. “Hell, and I’ll bet he never saw Billingsgate near the school. That was just another misdirection.”

“How will we prove it was Danbury?” Only belatedly did she realize that her words should have been ones of comfort. Perhaps she should have offered a faint hope that they were mistaken. But the lie hadn’t occurred to her. Both of them had seen too much of life to believe it.

Or should she have railed at Danbury, decrying his betrayal? Yet that wouldn’t have served a purpose, either. Her words would only be a pale mockery of Gabriel’s feelings.

Instead, she took a silent breath and gave him the only thing she could. “I’m finishing the auction.”

Gabriel’s gaze jerked to hers. “Like hell you are. I’m not letting you anywhere near him.”

“The auction is the only reason he’s in London. If I end it now, he might get suspicious and leave for the West Indies where you cannot touch him.”

The deep lines bracketing his mouth barely moved as he spoke. “I don’t have to arrest him to stop him.”