Robin Schone (38 page)

Had her mother found happiness with another man? Victoria wondered.

Was she alive?

Or had loving a man killed her, too?

Victoria touched a hard leather phallus, recalling the length and the girth of Gabriel.

I
am just over nine and one-half inches long.

Her body clenched in remembered pleasure. She quickly drew back her hand.

The auburn-haired guard remained impervious. Clearly he would not be shocked by ... anything at all.

Victoria hurriedly closed the top drawer and opened the second drawer. It contained a variety of silk

scarves.

Victoria had seen firsthand the uses to which those silk scarves could be applied.

She imagined Gabriel securing her hands over her head and tying her feet spread-eagled to the wooden

bedposts at the foot of the bed.

She imagined securing Gabriel.

The woman in the red bedchamber had secured the man she had been with. Straddling his hips, she had

rode him astride like a man riding a horse.

There had been freedom in the woman’s abandon, and a childlike trust in the man’s bondage.

Victoria had known neither freedom nor trust in her life.

Had Gabriel?

He had said there was no sex act he hadn’t performed. Had he ever tied up a woman for her pleasure?

Had he ever allowed himself to be tied up?

Immediately a picture of chains flashed through her mind.

Quietly closing the second drawer, Victoria opened the third and final drawer.

Knotted silk formed a whip. Beside it was a leather quirt.

There were brass hooks on the walls and the ceiling.

Anything.. . everything.

Victoria closed the final drawer.

The auburn-haired guard had been right. There was nothing here to help her please Gabriel.

Straightening, Victoria espied a small tin hidden between the white jar of cream and the silver tin filled

with condoms.

A smile broke over her face. It was a tin of peppermints.
Curiously Strong Peppermints
was stamped

on the metal, followed by the name ALTOIDS.

Picking up the small rectangular box, Victoria impulsively held it out so the guard could see it. “Someone

forgot their lozenges.”

“No one forgot them.” The guard’s face remained stoic, emerald-green eyes impassive. “They are for

the guests.”

Victoria’s smile died.

Mints for halitosis.

“That is very generous of Gabriel,” she said somberly, hand lowering. She moved to set the tin back onto

the nightstand.

“Take it.”

Victoria glanced up in surprise. The guard’s face was inscrutable.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Take the tin of Altoids with you. The peppermints are stronger than other brands. Eat a lozenge, and

take Mr. Gabriel into your mouth. It will please him.”

Victoria was surprised that the heat coursing through her body did not melt the peppermints.

The guard stepped back, spine impacting the door, clearly signaling it was time to leave.

Victoria wholeheartedly agreed.

Grabbing the Altoids, she turned around and glanced at the half-silvered glass that when seen by a guest

was merely a mirror.

The dark-haired woman reflected inside it was elegant instead of ragged, slender instead of scrawny.

Her face was as red as the wine-colored velvet garnering her gown.

The auburn-haired guard was profiled in the mirror, black coat a stark contrast to the golden-brown of

Victoria’s gown. And then they were gone, the auburn-haired guard in his black coat and the dark-haired

woman in her golden brown gown. In their place stood a lone man with black hair.

Victoria’s eyes widened. Only to see an auburn-haired man in a black coat standing in profile behind a

dark-haired woman wearing a golden brown dress.

The guard and Victoria.

Victoria blinked.

“It’s time to go,” Julien said.

Victoria could not wait to escape the elegant bedchamber.

Standing in the doorway, heart pounding, she cast a quick glance over her shoulder at the half-silvered

glass.

It was a mirror, not a transparent window.

“I saw you staring in the bottom drawer.”

Victoria started, head snapping forward and up.

Emerald-green eyes stared down into hers. “You are not used to houses such as this.”

There was no need to deny what must be blatantly obvious. “No,” Victoria admitted. “I am not used to

houses such as these.”

“In brothels whip thongs and cat-o’-nine-tails are used instead of knotted silk and quirts.”

Victoria did not have to ask Julien how he had gained his knowledge: it was imprinted in his

emerald-green eyes.

“The House of Gabriel is not a brothel,” Victoria said.

“No, ma’am, it is not.” Grim memories filled Julien’s eyes. “The House of Gabriel is safer than a

brothel. For both patron and prostitute.”

Victoria was arrested. Gabriel may think the House of Gabriel a place of sin, but—

“You approve of Mr. Gabriel’s house,” she said curiously.

“Yes,” the auburn-haired guard said baldly.

Warmth filled Victoria’s smile. “So do I, Mr. Jules. Shall we find Monsieur Gaston?”

They did not have to search for Gaston. He waited for them at the foot of the steps.

In his eyes was the look of the street man he had once been.

I
will lose my position,
Julien had said.

Gaston opened his mouth—

“It is entirely my fault, Monsieur Gaston. I wished to visit one of the guest rooms so that I”—Victoria

took a deep breath, there was no help for it—“might see if there was a device there that might assist me in

pleasing Monsieur Gabriel.”

Gaston’s mouth audibly snapped shut. He quickly recovered from his shock.

“I hope mademoiselle was not.. . surprised ... at the devices there.”

“Au contraire,
sir.” Victoria held up the tin of peppermints. “Mr. Jules very kindly recommended that I

try these.”

The crimson heat pulsing inside Victoria’s cheeks tinged Gaston’s cheeks.
“Merci,
mademoiselle. We

will not mention this incident to Monsieur Gabriel lest we spoil the surprise of your gift.”

Victoria’s auburn-haired guard marginally relaxed.

Victoria smiled. “Thank you, Mr. Gaston.”

“You must not tire yourself, mademoiselle. See mademoiselle back to Monsieur Gabriel’s suite, Jules.”

The suite.

The door leading to the gallery of transparent windows was in Gabriel’s study.

Victoria opened her mouth to tell Gaston and Jules about the man she had seen through the transparent

mirror.

She closed her mouth.

What had she seen, really? Just a brief image . . . with black hair.

Her hair, under the right conditions, looked black.

. The aberration inside the mirror could only have been a trick of light.

“Thank you, Mr. Gaston You are quite right”—Victoria would need all of her strength for the night—”I

must not tire myself out.”

Gaston preceded Victoria up the private stairs leading to Gabriel’s suite. Jules followed behind Victoria.

She was sandwiched between two able men.

So why didn’t she feel safe?

At the top of the stairs Gaston produced a shiny brass key and unlocked the door.

Victoria stepped inside, feet sinking in the plush maroon carpeting.

Gabriel’s study was empty.

How silly of her to hope that Gabriel had returned.

Gaston crossed the carpet to the black-marble-topped desk and swept up the silver tray bearing her

half-empty plates.

“Mademoiselle should eat more. Perhaps the food was not to your liking.”

Victoria stiffened. Surely he was not mocking her thinness.

“The food was excellent. Pray conduct my compliments to the cook. I will eat with Gabriel when he

returns.”

Gaston paused at the door, tray expertly balanced on one hand. “Mademoiselle.”

Victoria braced herself. “Yes?”

Gaston did not face her. “The Altoids work most effectively when they are allowed to slowly dissolve in

the mouth while at the same time tasting a man’s
bite.
This is best accomplished by holding a lozenge inside

your cheek rather than on your tongue.”

The door softly closed.

Victoria held her hands to her cheeks. The tin and her hands quickly warmed; they did not cool off her

face.

“Mademoiselle.”

For a second Victoria thought Gaston called through the door.

He did not.

Heart slamming against her ribs, Victoria swirled about.

A black-haired man stood only inches away from her. He held a blue silk scarf between long, elegant

hands.

“Hello, Mademoiselle Childers.” Warm breath fanned her face. “It’s so good to meet you again.”

“Mr.
Delaney is not at home,” the frozen-faced butler informed Gabriel.

“But Mrs. Thornton told me he was here.” Gabriel smiled disarmingly; behind his charm he plotted how

to best disarm the butler. He was a few years older than Gabriel and slightly shorter, but he was heavier

and larger boned. Behind the butler Gabriel could see that a staircase adjoined the foyer; a polished wooden

banister and a narrow green carpet climbed upward out of sight. There was no one on the stairs or in the

gas-lit hallway dissecting the town house. “I’m certain he would want to see me.”

“I’m sorry, sir.” There was no regret in the butler’s voice. “Mr. Delaney is not at home.”

He could be telling the truth. Or he could be lying.

His face was severely marked from smallpox. Many households would not hire a man with a face such

as his.

A butler such as he would tolerate many idiosyncrasies in an employer. Perhaps he even benefited from

Delaney’s hobby of preying on destitute governesses.

There were women, even whores, who would not bed a man who was disfigured.

Perhaps Delaney provided the butler with his castoff governesses.

Yellow fog wafted through the open door.

“This is a matter of urgency,” Gabriel said pleasantly. Leaning on his cane to hold it upright, he

unscrewed the silver knob by slowly rotating the palm of his left hand. “If you will tell me where I may find

Mr. Delaney, much unpleasantness can be avoided.”

It was the only warning Gabriel would give.

“I do not know where Mr. Delaney is.” The butler was impervious to danger. “If you will leave your

card, I will give it to him.”

Gabriel’s smile did not alter. Reaching up with his right hand as if to
pick off a piece of lint from his wool

coat, he grabbed instead the butler’s throat. At the same time the short sword and the hollow cane

separated.

He shoved the butler back inside the foyer.

Delaney could be upstairs, or he could be downstairs.

Or he could be out, as the butler claimed.

Gabriel would soon find out.

The butler was no Peter Thornton. The butler struck out.

Gabriel could not block the first hit; it impacted his jaw. He slammed the butler against a wall of family

photos.

Glass cracked, splattered; a silver-framed picture fell to the floor. Glass crunched underneath the butler’

s foot.

Gabriel dug the tip of the short sword into the butler’s throat just above his bobbing Adam’s apple; below

the sword point, Gabriel squeezed his throat between black leather encased fingers.

Three nights ago he would not have touched the man; now he would touch anyone, do anything, to keep

Victoria safe.

Pupils dilating with fear, the butler stilled. Heavy breathing superimposed the echo of shattered lives.

“As I said,” Gabriel purred, “Much unpleasantness can be avoided.”

Muffled footsteps sped down the carpeted stairs.

“What is the meaning of this?”

Gabriel froze.

The voice coming from above him was neither servile nor
masculine.

Gabriel did not take his gaze off of the butler.

“Ring for help, Mrs. Collins!” Sweat poured off the butler’s forehead; blood beaded on Gabriel’s black

leather glove. “Please!”

The butler would not beg an accomplice to ring for the police; he would plead for more immediate

assistance.

Gabriel could hold the butler or he could stop the woman. He could not do both at the same time.

He gambled.

“Mrs. Collins, if you move, I will pierce this man’s windpipe,” Gabriel swiftly rejoined. “It will be many

minutes before he dies, but I assure you, he will die. You can prevent his death.”

And her own, he did not need to add.

Gabriel could feel the woman’s indecision. She wanted to help the butler; pulsing just as strongly through

her veins was the instinct to survive.

The woman neither aided the butler nor ran, immobilized by her fear.

It was obvious she had never before encountered violence or death.

Gabriel played on her innocence. “If you help me, Mrs. Collins, no one need die.”

“I... what...” Her voice shook. “What do you want? My jewels are... I am a guest. This is my brother’s

home. I only have my pearls and—”

“Where is Mitchell Delaney, Mrs. Collins?” Gabriel interrupted.

The butler’s muscles bunched.

Gabriel’s fingers tightened around his throat, at the same time he pressed the tip of the sword into his

throat with deadly intent.

“Make no mistake, I
will
kill you,” he murmured brutally. And then more loudly, voice kinder, gentler. “I

don’t want your jewels, Mrs. Collins. I simply want to speak to your brother.”