Gabriel's Fate Page 25

  “You’re as soft as a ripe peach,” he murmured.

  She hoped that was a good thing, but decided not to ask. It was a good thing for her that he thought so, at least for now. His lips had replaced his hands, and kissed their way across her abdomen. His tongue dipped into her belly button, and she moaned. With her eyes half closed, she watched him explore her body. What he was doing felt wonderful to her. It was almost as if he were worshiping her body.

  His tongue stroked along one of her stretch marks, and everything inside of her froze for an instant. All of her instincts blared an alarm, her eyes flew open, and she stared intently at Gabriel. He glanced up at her, caught her eyes for no more than a second, and returned to practicing his sorcery on her body. Sophie relaxed. The episode hadn’t lasted for more than five seconds, but it had set her heart to banging like a drum and bugle corps.

  Then Gabriel did something that shocked her so much, she forgot to be worried that he might have discovered her secret. He had traveled to the blond curls between her legs, and he stroked her most private place with his tongue. Every conscious thought in her head flew away instantly, and she cried out, “Oh!”

  “Don’t be afraid, Sophie,” he said, his voice quavering.”I’ve been dreaming of this.”

  Merciful God, had he really? Sophie hadn’t known people did these things to each other. It felt—perfect. His warm tongue stroking the seat of her pleasure was the most intensely pleasurable sensation she’d ever experienced. Her hips rose and fell rhythmically as pressure built within her. She bunched the sheets between her clenched hands as the pressure mounted, and wasn’t even embarrassed by the gasping moans coming from her.

  And then everything inside of her splintered and came apart in a burst of delight so powerful, she wouldn’t have believed it if she hadn’t experienced it. Wave upon wave of fulfillment shook her. This had never happened to her before. Surely she’d have remembered something this astounding.

  Her heart raced and her body was damp with perspiration when Gabriel lifted himself to her side and kissed her. Sh threw her arms around him and kissed him with all the love and passion she dared not express in words. She could taste the essence of herself on his lips, and she all but devoured him. She had his full cooperation.

  Eventually, she realized he’d maneuvered her onto her back. Oh, yes. She guessed it was his turn now. She was more than happy to oblige him. He was an overtly happy man when he propped himself above her. She’d never seen anyone look so pleased with himself and felt a wisp of tenderness. So even Gabriel Caine could feel pride in a job well done, could he? She smiled at him. “Thank you, Gabriel. That was—splendid.”

  “It was splendid for me, Sophie.”

  She reached out and stroked his stiff sex. He shuddered and groaned. An awareness of her power as a woman struck her for the first time. She decided to use it. “I want to feel you inside me, Gabriel.” Again, she stroked his shaft. It was warm and large and felt oddly silky.

  He moaned again, shut his eyes, and looked for a moment as if he was in pain. “Oh, Lord, Sophie.”

  Evidently, he was pleased with her. Good. She was pleased with him, too. And herself. Sophie so seldom had cause to feel good about herself, that she knew she’d venerate this moment forever. She guided him to her waiting passage, wet and throbbing with recent fulfillment.

  “Oh, God,” Gabriel groaned. Then he plunged home.

  “Ahh.” The oddest thing, Sophie thought, was the completeness she felt now that they were joined. The magic in the atmosphere, which she’d forgotten all about during the past several incredible minutes, also reacted to it. The incense pulsed and throbbed in the air, making the fragrance of orange blossoms and jasmine and sandalwood whirl about the two of them.

  Gabriel seemed to have progressed beyond words. As he plunged in and out, creating in Sophie new sensations of pressure for the same fulfillment he craved, his breath came in gasping sobs. As he drew closer to his own climax, he drove her to the pinnacle as well. Her second crescendo struck her as suddenly as the first one had, and her body convulsed beneath him. With a wild cry, Gabriel joined her in release, his body shuddering time and again in delighted consummation.

  With arms that shook, Gabriel lowered himself to Sophie’s side. She turned to face him and was interested to note that his eyes were closed, he was drenched in sweat, he was panting as if he’d run a mile, and his heart hammered like a piston. Intriguing. So it wasn’t only she who’d been affected by this.

  She stroked his lovely dark, dark hair back from his sweaty brow. If Sophie were to describe her idea of the model male specimen, she didn’t think she could come closer to her ideal than Gabriel Caine.

  He wasn’t perfect. His jaw was too square, she guessed, although she liked it. It declared his strength of character. And his mouth was perhaps too full to be considered absolutely manly, but she liked it because it gave him a touch of humanity. His eyebrows, while matching splendidly with his truly magnificent eyes, were too straight, she supposed, for perfection. They suited him, though. Absolutely. His complexion was slightly weather-beaten, although it gave him an air of ruggedness that Sophie found attractive.

  Oh, Lord, whom was she trying to fool? She loved the man. Madly and, she feared, forever.

  And all too soon, she was going to practice a perfidious deceit on him.

  Upon that lowering reflection, she returned her attention to Gabriel’s eyes and discovered they’d opened. She smiled at him. He smiled back. She had no idea what to say. She recalled that in her youth, the man who’d taken her virginity had always talked after they made love. Said he’d loved her and all that. In other words, he’d fed her hopeful heart a bushel full of lies. She hoped Gabriel wouldn’t lie to her.

  He began brushing her hair back from her forehead as she’d smoothed his. “Your hair is so pretty, Sophie.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Did your mother and father have blond hair?”

  “My mother. Her family was from Denmark, and I guess a lot of people are blond over there.”

  He nodded. “I see.” He kissed her, tenderly, softly, lovingly—perfectly. Sophie nearly melted into the sheets.

  “You’re quite a woman, Sophie Madrigal.”

  She eyed him slantwise. “Thank you, I think.”

  He chuckled. “It’s a compliment. Believe me.”

  “Then, thank you.”

  They lay in silence for another few minutes. Gabriel continued to fondle her hair, twining locks of it around his finger as his breathing slowed. She enjoyed the attention and tried not to allow herself to fall into the mistake of hoping Gabriel would stay with her forever. She reminded herself hat she wasn’t the sort of woman whom men cherish, and that if she kept that fact in mind, she’d less likely be crushed when he went away.

  His hand eventually left her hair and began another gentle tour of her body. He acted as if he truly valued her body—all of it—and Sophie was glad of it. Since she felt moderately bold, she said, “You’re quite a man yourself, Gabriel Caine.”

  “Thanks.” His mouth twisted into a smile that looked a shade wry to Sophie.

  But that was all right. He wouldn’t be Gabriel if he weren’t a skeptic. “You’re welcome.” She gave him a smile that was all smile.

  Apparently, Gabriel recognized it, because the wariness left his expression, and Sophie thought she detected plain, unadulterated happiness take its place. She was glad.

  “You know,” he said after another moment or two. “We’re pretty good at this.”

  “Indeed.” She wasn’t sure what to say, although she agreed. Wholeheartedly.

  “Maybe we can do it again sometime.”

  “Maybe.” Her heart took the opportunity to swoop painfully when she realized that after she’d done what she aimed to do, Gabriel would probably change his mind about their continuing relationship.

  He was quiet again for so long, Sophie turned to see if he’d gone to sleep. He hadn’t. He was fondling one of her nippl
es and gazing at her body as if he couldn’t believe she’d actually shared it with him. Sophie could hardly believe it, either.

  “You’re—perfect,” he said at last. “Perfect.”

  No, she wasn’t. Some nymph of feminine wisdom wouldn’t let her say so, thereby disparaging herself. She said instead, “Thank you, Gabriel.”

  “It’s true.”

  How nice he was when he wasn’t worried about her stabbing him in the back with a verbal barb. Almost, Sophie felt guilty for having been so difficult early in their relationship. She assuredly felt guilty for figuratively planning to stab him in the back this evening.

  He continued to stroke her body. The attentions didn’t seem particularly sexual at this point, but as if they were offered as a token of his esteem. Sophie accepted them as such, however they were meant. His big, rough hands felt like heaven as they caressed her.

  She hadn’t understood before tonight how women could enjoy sexual coupling. Her prior experiences with that first man had been hurried, fumbling acts and, while he’d seemed to enjoy them, she hadn’t much.

  But there was no comparison between Gabriel and that man. Gabriel was ever so much more—more—real, somehow, than that other man had been. Also, he was older, and undoubtedly wiser. Sophie grinned to herself, knowing she’d never say the latter to Gabriel. No sense in allowing him to get swell headed, after all.

  Oh, but he was really something special, was Gabriel Caine. Sophie knew without knowing how that Gabriel would never trick a naive young girl into serving as his sexual toy, and then leaving her. Gabriel was too honorable to do anything underhanded and nefarious. Why, if Sophie didn’t watch herself, she might just—

  “Did your little boy have blond hair like yours, Sophie?”

  In a heartbeat, all of her tender thoughts exploded into dust. She felt as if he had stabbed her in the heart.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Shit. Maybe he shouldn’t have said anything. Gabriel reached over to Sophie, who was curled up in a ball of misery on the other side of the bed. He wanted to comfort her, to hold her, to give her whatever strength he possessed. Dammit, he wanted to help her heal.

  She thrust his hand away. “No!”

  He sighed. What he hadn’t meant to do was precipitate a tantrum. “I hate to see you unhappy, Sophie,” he pleaded. “Why won’t you let me help you?”

  “You? Help me?”

  Her scorn hit him so hard, he reeled back as if she’d struck him. For a moment, he sat, stunned. Then he got mad. This time when he reached out, he took her upper arm and yanked her over onto her back. Her face was blotchy from crying, and her green eyes looked like drowned marbles—only they snapped fire.

  “Yes, dammit!” he said, angrier than he could recall being in a very long time. “What’s so odd about me wanting to help you? Christ, Sophie, people help each other every day.”

  “I don’t need any help.”

  She had sense enough not to try to jerk her arm away from him, for which he was grateful because he didn’t want to leave bruises. She was too precious to him. She furiously mopped her cheeks with the back of her other hand and glared at him as if he were the devil and the bogeyman and Ivo Hardwick all rolled into one.

  “That’s bullshit, and you know it, Sophie Madrigal. If anybody in the world needs help, it’s you.”

  “It is not!” She’d taken to shrieking.

  All things considered, Gabriel guessed he’d rather face her anger than her grief. “Like hell. You let Dmitri help you. He goes out and scouts out jobs for you, doesn’t he? So you’ll know whose aunt or uncle to pull from beyond the grave in your séances.”

  “That’s different.”

  “Yeah, it’s different. It’s work. And Joshua was probably your life. But coming to terms with your little boy’s death is more important than any work ever could be.”

  “Don’t you dare talk to me about Joshua.”

  Her voice had fallen to a barely audible growl, and she sounded dangerous. If they both weren’t buck naked, Gabriel might have searched her for weapons.

  “I will talk to you about Joshua, dammit. He’s the most important thing in your life, and always will be. Alive or dead, he’ll always be the most important thing. That’s why you’re after Hardwick, isn’t it? Because he killed your little boy.”

  The seconds crawled by like centuries, and Gabriel had just about decided she wasn’t going to answer him, when she surprised him. “Yes.”

  He couldn’t stand it any longer. He didn’t know about Sophie, who seemed to have some sort of inner core of stone, but Gabriel Caine was a soft-hearted gent. He needed human companionship and compassion, and even hearing about a small child’s death made his heart ache. Knowing it had been Sophie’s child who’d died made him feel like crying himself.

  He pulled her into his arms, and she resisted all the way. Once he had her snugly in his embrace, however, she seemed to collapse. He petted and caressed her as he would an injured kitten.

  “Ah, Sophie, please don’t pull away from me. I want so damned much to help you. I really do.”

  Her body felt like heaven pressed against his. She had the most magnificent body he’d ever seen. He loved it that she had lots of flesh to hold on to. Since she wasn’t talking yet, he decided to ramble on for a while on his own. Who knew? He might break down her barriers yet.

  “It was the stretch marks.” He kept his voice low and gentle. He didn’t want to spook her. “And I just put two and two together, and realized it must have been Hardwick who was somehow responsible for Joshua’s death. I—well, I can’t imagine how it must feel to lose a child, Sophie. I don’t blame you for wanting to kill the bastard who killed your son.” He elected to refrain from preaching at her. She’d obviously thought about the consequences of killing Hardwick, and had decided the act of vengeance itself was more important than consequences. “I’m sorry, Sophie. I’m so damned sorry.”

  He went on in that vein for several minutes, wondering if she’d ever allow her barriers down far enough to let him into her life. The Lord above knew he wanted in, although he didn’t know exactly why. Hell, if he got really and truly involved with Sophie Madrigal, it would be a life sentence. Gabriel wasn’t a fool; he knew the difference between a romp in the sack and love. He very much feared the latter had roped and tied him, and he was buckled up as tight as a man could be.

  Might as well resign himself to it, he guessed. It didn’t look as if there was any denying it, and a gracious admission might ultimately be more satisfactory than fighting against the inevitable. Hell. A man had to be on his toes every damned second or life would get him in the back, sure as check.

  He was getting pretty sleepy when Sophie’s voice finally interrupted his soft flow of endearments.

  “He was drunk.”

  Gabriel stopped talking and stiffened. Who was drunk? Oh, yeah, Hardwick. Not surprising, if all Gabriel had read about him was correct. He didn’t speak because he didn’t want to jar her, but he murmured, “Mmm?”

  “I guess he’d been drinking all day. We were in San Antonio, playing in a theatrical house there. Juniper and I had done a couple of séances. I’d taken Joshua to see the Alamo.” Her voice quavered pathetically, and she paused to swallow and get her emotions under control.

  Gabriel hugged her and murmured, “I’m so sorry, Sophie.”

  After a moment, she went on. “Joshua was seven years old. He’d just had his seventh birthday. Ivo Hardwick had evidently got into an argument with some other man in a saloon.”

  Damn. Gabriel wasn’t sure he wanted to hear this, but he knew he had to. If he loved Sophie—and he did—he had to share her burdens. He only wished they weren’t quite so heavy. He wasn’t sure he was up to their weight.

  “He and the other man had gone outside to settle their differences by fighting it out in the street, I guess. It was about two in the afternoon. A lovely day. Perfect. Warm and bright, with puffy clouds overhead, and only a little breeze. Joshua and I had
been singing together as we walked back to our hotel, when Ivo Hardwick got tired of fighting and decided to shoot his opponent. He missed the other drunk and shot Joshua through the heart. He died instantly.”

  “Christ.”

  Sophie buried her head against Gabriel’s shoulder. He felt her tears, hot and bitter, against his skin. “I didn’t even have a chance to say good-bye to him.”

  “What about the law? Didn’t they arrest him?”

  He felt her head shaking back and forth against his skin. “They called it an accident. I think—” She had to swallow and suck in a breath in order to continue. “—I think they confiscated his gun and fined him.”

  “Jesus.”

  There wasn’t a thing in the world to say, and Gabriel knew it. He held her and rocked her and let his own tears trickle down his cheeks. If this wasn’t Sophie, and if he didn’t care so much, he might have felt silly, crying like this. But he didn’t. Sophie’s Joshua was worth all the tears anybody cared to shed for him. And her.

  Aw, Sophie, Sophie, Sophie. For the first time in his life, Gabriel wished he could sacrifice himself for another person. He’d give his life for Sophie, if it would do her any good. But there was nothing he could do to help her—unless it was to save her from her own vengeance. No matter what she believed, killing Ivo Hardwick wouldn’t solve her problems. Since Gabriel knew she’d not listen to him, or believe him if she did, he didn’t bother telling her so. She’d heard it all before and rejected it.

  After what seemed like a decade, she stopped crying and sat up, propping herself against the pillows next to him, her body pressing against his. He wiped her tears from her cheeks and kissed her. “I’m so damned sorry, Sophie.”

  “Thank you.” Her voice was rough, as if all of her crying had hurt her throat. She sucked in a deep breath. “I wasn’t married to Joshua’s father, you know.”