Her Every Pleasure (23 page)

As the weasel tried to dart past him, Gabriel tackled him to the ground.

The wiry captive began flailing and thrashing as Gabriel held him down. “Help! Help! Oppression! Tyranny!”

“What?”
Derek exclaimed as he ran over to help.

“Overthrow the government! Death to Lord Liverpool! Tyrants—Tories!” the man yelped, wriggling like a worm after the rain. “The prime minister is a criminal! Burn the Home Office! Disband the corporations!”

Gabriel smacked him in the head. “Would you shut up?”

From the corner of his eye, he could see a number of men from the garrison rushing over to join them.

“Check the wall to make sure he was alone!” he ordered loudly. “Go! We have everything under control here. Then back to your posts!”

“Aye, sir!”

“Here are manacles if you want them, Colonel.”

“Yes. Give them to me.”

One of the soldiers gave him the shackles for their captive as the others scattered to search for any other intruders who might have snuck in with the man. Gabriel intended to find out exactly how the detestable Jacobin had breached security. But as he took a moment to catch his breath, he could not help but send up a prayer of relief to see that this lunatic had arrived with an entirely different agenda. Unless it was a ruse—and he would soon find out for sure—this man’s hatred seemed to be clearly aimed at the Tory government, not at Sophia.

“Burn the Home Office!” his foaming tirade continued. “Hang the prime minister—”

“That will do,” Gabriel ordered him curtly.

Derek bent down and glowered at him. “Didn’t you know this party was by invitation only?”

“Look at you two! You’re slaves and you don’t even know it—” The intruder swallowed his words with a wide-eyed gulp when Gabriel scowled at him.

“God, I hate radicals,” Derek muttered. “Don’t you people ever bathe?”

“What have you got in the bag, fool?”

“Let’s have a look. Ah, hand grenades,” Derek said, inspecting the man’s lumpy canvas pack. “Clever lad, he even remembered to bring a flint to light the matches with.”

“You treasonous wretch, what were you going to do, blow up the ball?”

“Freedom!” the wiry man yelped.

“I think you mean anarchy, you ungrateful puke.” He rolled him facedown into the grass and clapped the manacles on him. “Get up!” he ordered, hauling him to his feet.

The moment he had the prisoner under control, Gabriel’s thoughts returned to the conversation they’d been having before the interruption. “So, what do you think I should do, then?” he persisted, ignoring the prisoner’s thrashing about as they began marching him back to the castle.

“You’re asking my opinion?”

“You’ve always been better with women than me. What would you do? Would you resign from this post?”

“Hell, no.” Derek glanced at Gabriel and started to speak again, but was interrupted by the lurching dunce they had captured.

“Burn the Parliament! Burn—”

“Shut up!” Derek ordered, wrenching him a bit. At once, the man tried to make himself as limp as a noodle. “Oh, stop that. Don’t be a churl. Will you walk or would you rather we drag you?”

“You were saying?” Gabriel prompted as they commenced dragging the would-be anarchist by his heels across the grass.

“I’d keep my distance,” Derek replied, “but I admit, I’d have to stay until I had ripped the heads off anyone who wanted to hurt her.”

“Then, we concur.”

“But, now, after that job was done, mind you…” Derek gave him a roguish wink.

Gabriel snorted. “If I’m still alive.”

“Well, in my experience,” Derek said mildly as they reached the stone steps up to the terrace and hauled the prisoner to his feet, “you don’t die so easily.”

“True, that,” Gabriel admitted with a nod, then turned to the prisoner. “On your feet again. We’re taking you in.”

“What are you going to do with him? Hand him over to the captain?” Derek inquired, taking hold of the man’s other arm.

“In due time. First, I think I’ve got another use for him.”

“You’ll not torture me! Help!” Since his arms were pinned, he started flailing his long, skinny legs.

“Torture?” Derek exclaimed, helping Gabriel to keep him still. “Too bad we’re not in India. Then we could hand you over to the chaps who do that business properly.”

“Who’s that?” the disheveled radical asked, his gaze darting about wildly.

The brothers exchanged a grim glance and then just started laughing.

Leaving the dance floor, Sophia had beckoned Alexa over to sit with her as a buffer between her and the very interested prince. The man wouldn’t let her out of his sight. But they had barely taken their seats again when the captain of the garrison came marching over to her with a curt, martial bow. “Your Highness?”

“Yes?” both she and Crown Prince Christian Frederick said at once.

Alexa giggled.

“I think he meant me,” Sophia said politely.

“Ah, of course,” His Highness said.

The captain cleared his throat. “Princess: The chef requires your opinion about the, er, pastries.”

Alexa wrinkled her nose. “The pastries?”

Sophia stared at the captain.
Uh-oh.

Code. Trouble.

Quickly chasing away her fearful look, she rose smoothly and smiled at her lady-in-waiting. “You know how particular I am that my guests should be treated to a proper sampling of Greek pastries, Alexa. They must be flaky, but with not too much butter. It is a point of national pride.”

“Right,” Alexa said abruptly.

“I must go at once to the kitchens and see my, um, very talented chef about this matter. You know how hard it is to secure the talents of Europe’s finest.”

“But of course.”

She nodded to him. “Your Highness, if you will excuse me.”

“Princess.” He bowed to her.

“Ah, Alexa, come with me.” She paused, turned back, and crooked a finger at her flirtatious friend. She was not about to leave Alexa with all her loose morals behind to throw herself at the Crown Prince and make him doubt
her
character by association.

The captain gestured to her. “This way, Your Highness, if you will.”

Seeing her on the move, her Greek bodyguards accompanied her, holding their loose formation around her and Alexa.

“What’s all this about the silly pastries?” her friend whispered. “Were you just trying to get away from him?”

“No, it’s just a code Gabriel invented to let me know if there was trouble without alarming the guests.”

“Trouble?” Alexa gripped her arm and paled. “What sort of trouble? You don’t think—”

“Hush. We’re about to find out. Don’t worry, just be calm. Colonel Knight will keep us safe.”

“You trust him so much?” Alexa retorted.

Sophia paused and glanced at her. “With my life.”

Then they hurried on, passing into the private service areas of the castle’s main floor. The captain led them through the kitchens and down to the wine-cellar level, but they did not go the way that Gabriel had showed her that day, over by the old escape tunnel. Instead, they went down another dank, torch-lit corridor, until they came to a dead end, where a dozen British soldiers were arrayed around a thick, closed door.

Gabriel stood in the middle of all the soldiers, waiting for them.

Sophia rushed toward him. “What has happened, Colonel?”

“Everyone, stay calm,” he ordered in an even tone. “Rest assured; I have everything in hand.”

Sophia sent Alexa a pointed smile as if to say,
See?

“Has there been an incident?”

“We’ve captured one of the attackers from the night of the ambush.”

She and all her Greeks responded with a collective gasp.

Then Timo stepped forward instantly, fists clenched. “Let me at him!”

“And me!” said Yannis.

“Gentlemen,” Gabriel warned, holding up his hand. “You will remain. The prisoner is bound and secured in the room behind me. I am going to question this blackguard at length, and believe me, I will make sure to tell you everything I’ve found out once I am through with him.”

“What if he won’t talk?” Demetrius challenged with a dark look, cracking his knuckles.

“Oh, believe me, there are tricks I learned in India that will make this villain sing.”

Alexa gulped and took a backward step, her eyes wide.

Sophia ignored her, moving forward with ice in her veins. “I want to see him.”

“Your Highness, I don’t think that’s a good idea—”

“He killed Leon!” she cried angrily, lurching forward. “Out of my way—you!” she ordered the British soldiers guarding the door. “I want a word with him. Now!”

“Very well,” Gabriel conceded softly, coming up beside her. “But only for a moment. Men.” He nodded to his British soldiers, who parted to admit them into the adjoining room.

They blocked the door again after Gabriel and she had stepped inside. The colonel went ahead of her, but the second Sophia spotted the shadowed silhouette of a man on a chair in the corner, bound and gagged, his hands tied behind him, she reached under her skirts and slid out her knife with lethal intent.

As Gabriel turned to her, she sprang at the prisoner with her knife lifted over his face.

Gabriel swore and grabbed her wrist. “What are you doing?” he shouted.

“I’m going to kill him!” she cried.

“No, you’re not! Drop it, Sophia!” he ordered as she fought him. “I said drop it
now
!”

“You can’t tell me what to do!” She looked at him accusingly, tears rushing into her eyes. “You’re not my husband—you’re just my bodyguard!”

“Put it…down,” he ordered her through gritted teeth, his face inches from hers. “Sophia, listen to me. He’s not involved,” he whispered fiercely. “This is a ruse.”

She blinked through her tears. “What?”

“We caught him outside, but his being here has nothing to do with you. He’s a wild-eyed Jacobin with a bag of hand grenades. He wants to kill the prime minister, not you. The man’s deranged.”

“But—you said—”

“I lied. Sweetheart, give me the knife.”

The velvet caress in his voice at the endearment made her quiver, his gentleness overpowered her more than all of his warrior strength could have done. Slowly, she released her grip on the knife and fought him no more, letting him take it.

She glanced at the prisoner and saw him staring at her, whimpering through the gag. She wrapped her arms around herself with a chill and looked away, wondering if she really could have stabbed a defenseless man.

Gabriel put the knife on the other side of the room, well out of the bound prisoner’s reach, and then came over to her with a light touch on her elbow. “Are you all right?”

She nodded, avoiding his searching gaze. “What did you mean,” she uttered in a shaky tone, “by a ruse?”

“When we intercepted him, I knew he was the perfect tool to use against anyone in your entourage who might want to do you harm.”

She pulled away. “Oh, do not speak of that again!”

Gabriel just gave her a stoic look as he rested his hands on his waist. “Right now, all of your Greek guards think we’ve caught one of the attackers. If any of them are involved, this lie should force them to tip their hand. I’ve talked to the captain. He’s got his men in place, and we’re going to see what your Greeks do about this development, how they react to this information. With all eyes on you for the ball, this would be the safest time to try it.”

“My men have nothing to hide,” she whispered with a little less conviction than she had previously felt.

“Then they have nothing to fear,” he answered. “Just let me test them.”

“Very well, if that’s the only way you’ll be convinced.”

“All that matters to me is keeping you safe.”

His quiet words made her heart clench. She dropped her gaze once more. “Do what you must. I will uphold this lie.”

“Sophia,” he said softly as she started toward the door. “You make a wonderful Aphrodite.”

She paused, glancing over her shoulder with a guarded half smile. “Thanks. But I’m actually supposed to be Artemis.”

His eyebrow lifted. “The huntress virgin?” he murmured with a dubious grin.

She blushed slightly. She supposed he had cause to regard her as less than virginal, but it was only this man who had that effect on her. With a tentative smile, she turned once more to go.

“Did you enjoy your dance with the prince?” he asked from behind her.

His soft-toned question stopped her in her tracks, but she did not turn around.

“At least he asked me.”

“I hear he’s looking for another wife.”

“I heard that, too.” Her heart was pounding so loud she thought that all the guests upstairs would surely hear it through the castle’s stone.

“But are you looking for a husband?”

She stared hopelessly at the formidable wall before her. “I don’t know,” she breathed, acutely aware of him behind her. “He dances well—though he seems a little paranoid.”

“Surely you don’t want him, then.”

“Since when has what I want ever entered into the equation?” she uttered under her breath.

But Gabriel must have heard, for in the next instant, he was behind her, his body radiating heat as he grasped her waist and turned her around. “Sophia—”

“Don’t.” She tried to push him away, but it was no use.

He pulled her into his arms behind the prisoner’s line of sight and claimed her mouth in ravishing hunger. He captured her nape as he kissed her in a firestorm of what she quite believed was jealous passion, clenching her to him. His mouth slanted over hers in possessive demand, taking what she so longed to give. She parted her lips eagerly to devour his kiss, molding her hands over his broad shoulders. He tightened his arm around her waist.

Gathering her closer still while his tongue caressed hers, he drew her body against his, so warm and strong, but when she felt the tautening length of his arousal hardening against her stomach, Sophia reluctantly pulled away.

This was too scandalous, feasting on each other like this in what was nearly a dungeon. “That’s enough.” She backed him off; he let her go, breathing hard.

Light-headed with the pleasure that had flooded her body, she took a few dizzied paces away from him. She deemed it prudent to put a safe distance between them, for she could barely resist the still magnetic pull of his heaving passion. She could feel him burning from across the cold, dank cell. She closed her eyes.