"I am relieved to know you do not consider me a complete failure as a knight-errant."
Phoebe realized she had injured his pride. She touched his arm in a small, earnest little gesture of apology. "I assure you I never actually thought you a complete failure."
"You called me a coward, I believe."
"Yes, well, my temper was somewhat frayed at the time. I trust you will make allowances?"
"Why not?" Gabriel's tone was dry. "I suppose ladies who send knights out on quests have the privilege of being demanding."
Phoebe smiled. "And I suppose knights who are asked to risk their necks are entitled to be somewhat temperamental."
"We are in agreement on one topic, at least." Gabriel took a step closer and caught her chin on the edge of his gloved hand. His strong thigh brushed against the silk skirts of her gown.
Phoebe shivered. His touch instantly reignited everything she had felt that night on the road when he had taken her into his arms. She had never been so acutely conscious of a man before in her life. There was danger in this kind of masculine power, she realized suddenly. But it was also incredibly alluring. She drew a deep breath and tried to compose herself.
"My lord," she said, "I must ask you if you have come here tonight because you have decided to assist me in my quest."
"I think you know the answer to that."
Phoebe gazed up at him in gathering excitement. "Then the answer is yes? You will help me locate the murderous pirate who stole The Lady in the Tower?"
Gabriel's mouth curved faintly. "Rest assured, Lady Phoebe. You will know the identity of the owner of your book before the Season is over."
"
I
knew it." Overcome with joy, she threw her arms around Gabriel's neck. "I knew you would not be able to resist such a bold quest. I do not know how to thank you, my lord." She stood on tiptoe and brushed her lips across his cheek. Then she stepped back quickly. She felt the heat in her face as she realized what she had done.
Gabriel narrowed his eyes. He touched the side of his face briefly. "That will do for starters. But I think I should warn you that these days when I set out on quests, I make certain I get properly rewarded for my efforts."
"I understand. You said there would be a fee for your services." Phoebe straightened her shoulders. "I am prepared to pay it."
"Are you, indeed?"
"If it is within my means," Phoebe amended quickly.
"It will definitely be within your means."
Phoebe searched his unreadable face. "What is your fee, sir?"
"I am still calculating it."
"I see." Phoebe did not know how to take that. She cleared her throat cautiously. "I, myself, have never been very good with calculations and such."
"I am very, very good with them," he assured her softly.
"Oh. Well, then, you must let me know as soon as you have settled upon a sum. In the meantime, I shall give you some preliminary instructions."
Gabriel eyed her. "Instructions?"
"Yes, of course. This quest is a very serious matter and I would have you proceed carefully and, above all, discreetly." Phoebe took another step back and began to pace up and down in front of him. She frowned in thought. "First of all, we must maintain absolute secrecy."
"Secrecy." Gabriel considered that for a moment. "Why?"
"Don't be a dolt. Secrecy is necessary or we shall risk warning our quarry that we are on his trail."
"Ah."
Phoebe held up her hand and raised one finger. "Secrecy is the first requirement. No one must know that we are working together on this quest." She raised another finger. "The second requirement is that you keep me informed of your progress."
Gabriel's brow rose. "You want regular reports?"
"Yes. That way I shall be able to guide and coordinate your work. I shall make certain you are covering all the obvious avenues of inquiry."
"You do not trust me to be able to find all those particular avenues on my own?" Gabriel asked.
"No, of course not. You have been out of Society for eight years, my lord. There is much you do not know. I shall be able to give you a great deal of valuable information about certain book collectors and booksellers. You will, in turn, be able to apply that information while you are investigating."
"Phoebe, I agreed to this quest of yours, but you had better understand from the beginning that I am not some damn Bow Street Runner you may order about as it suits your whim."
She paused in her pacing to give him a placating smile. "I am well aware you are not a Runner, my lord. This matter is well beyond the scope of a mere Runner. You are a knight-errant. My knight-errant. In a very real sense you will be working for me, my lord. You do comprehend that, do you not?"
"I am starting to grasp your notion of how this partnership is supposed to work. But I don't think you have got a proper concept of how a knight-errant functions."
She peered at him in surprise. "What do you mean, my lord?"
"Knights-errant are notorious for going about their quests in their own fashions." Gabriel slowly stripped off his gloves. His eyes gleamed in the shadows as he leaned over her. "Do not misunderstand me. They are happy to serve their ladies, but they do so as they see fit."
She frowned. "Be that as it may, you will find my guidance quite necessary, my lord. Not only can I supply information, I can also secure the invitations you will need."
"Hmm. I cannot argue with you on that score," Gabriel conceded. "With your contacts, you can get me invited to the same parties and soirees that you will be attending."
"Precisely." She gave him an approving smile. "And you will find me very useful in other ways, too. You see, my lord, we must work closely together on this. I don't mean to put too fine a point on it, but the fact is the quest to find my book is my idea. Therefore, it stands to reason that I should be in charge."
Gabriel caught her face between his bare hands. "Something tells me that reason does not have a lot to do with this entire affair." He bent his head.
Phoebe's eyes widened. "My lord, what are you doing?"
"I am going to kiss you."
"I am not at all certain that is a sound notion." Phoebe was violently aware of her racing pulse. Visions of his last unnerving kiss flashed in her head. "I believe knights-errant are supposed to admire their ladies from afar."
"Now, that is where you are quite wrong." Gabriel's mouth brushed across hers with tantalizing slowness. "Knights-errant did everything in their power to get as close as possible to their ladies."
"Nevertheless, it might be best if we—"
The rest of Phoebe's half-strangled protest was lost as Gabriel's mouth came down on hers. She clutched at his shoulders, riveted by the intensity of feeling that was washing through her.
The first time he had kissed her, he had been wearing gloves. Tonight the unexpected roughness of his palms against her skin startled her. Not the hands of a gentleman, she thought. Dear heaven, these are the hands of a warrior.
Gabriel deepened the kiss swiftly, his mouth fierce and demanding. Phoebe felt herself respond with a sudden urgency that took her by surprise. She moaned softly. Her fan fell from her hand as she moved her arms up to circle his neck.
She was even more dazed and breathless now than she had been when he had danced with her. Gabriel was consuming her and at the same time creating a shattering hunger within her. His lips moved on hers, seeking a response that matched his own. Phoebe hesitated, uncertain how to handle the still unfamiliar and utterly devastating sensuality he ignited within her.
Then she felt Gabriel's callused thumb at the corner of her mouth. She realized he was coaxing her lips apart. Uncomprehending, she obeyed. In an instant he was inside, groaning heavily as he plundered her softness.
Phoebe had been kissed before by the occasional overly bold suitor. Such embraces, frequently snatched in gardens outside a crowded ballroom such as this, had been hurried and generally uninteresting. They had filled her with nothing more than a desire to return to the ballroom. Neil Baxter had also kissed her once or twice, but never like this. Neil's kisses had been chaste and polite and Phoebe had never desired more than what he offered.
With Gabriel she knew she was experiencing passion. This was the stuff of legend, she told herself exultantly. This was what she had always sensed was waiting for her somewhere with the right man.
This was exceedingly dangerous.
Gabriel's rough hand moved lightly over her bare shoulder. His finger slipped beneath the edge of the tiny sleeve of her gown. He started to slide it down her arm.
Phoebe surfaced from the shock of the embrace. Her mind was still reeling. She moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue, trying to find her voice. "My lord, I really don't think—"
Without warning there was a movement in the darkness behind Gabriel. Phoebe went cold as she heard Anthony's voice slice harshly through the night.
"Take your goddamned hands off my sister, Wylde," Anthony said. "How dare you touch her?"
Gabriel's smile was cold in the moonlight as he turned slowly to face Anthony. "We seem to have played this scene once before, Oaksley."
"And it will end the same way it did the last time." Anthony came to a halt a few paces away. His hands were clenched in fury.
"I think not," Gabriel said far too gently. "Things are a little different this time."
Phoebe was horrified. "Stop it, both of you. Anthony, Gabriel and I are friends. I will not allow you to insult him."
"Don't be a fool, Phoebe." Anthony did not look at her. "He is plotting to use you somehow. You may depend upon it. I know him well enough to guarantee that he is after either money or revenge. Probably both."
Meredith's voice called out anxiously from the shadows. "Anthony? Did you find them?" A second later she appeared from behind a row of topiary. When she saw Gabriel, she stopped short, a stricken expression on her lovely face. "Dear God. So it is true. You are back."
Gabriel glanced at her. "Did you think I would not return eventually?"
"I prayed you would not," Meredith whispered brokenly.
Phoebe was getting angrier by the minute. "This is all a grave misunderstanding. Anthony, Meredith, I insist you be polite to Gabriel."
Meredith looked at her. "Anthony is right, Phoebe. Wylde is here for only one reason. Fie wants revenge."
"I do not believe it," Phoebe declared. Defiantly she took a step closer to Gabriel. She looked up at him, frowning severely. "You won't discuss what happened eight years ago, will you?"
"None of you need be unduly alarmed," Gabriel said. He looked amused. "I have no intention of discussing ancient history." His eyes flickered across Meredith's face. "Especially such exceedingly dull ancient history."
Meredith gasped.
Anthony took a menacing step forward. "Are you insulting my sister, sir?"
"Hardly." Gabriel smiled blandly. "I was merely commenting on Lady Trowbridge's impressive virtue. A subject I can speak on with some authority."
Phoebe scowled at her brother and sister. Anthony looked frustrated and furious. Meredith just stood there, an ethereal, tragic figure with her hand at her throat.
Phoebe had had enough. She stepped in front of Gabriel, putting herself between him and the other two. "There will be no more of this nonsense. Do you hear me? I will not tolerate it. What is past is past."
"Stay out of this, Phoebe." Anthony glowered at her. "You have caused enough trouble already."
Phoebe raised her chin. "Gabriel has given his word that he will not gossip about what happened eight years ago, and that is that. From now on, you will treat him as you would any other respectable member of Society."
"The devil I will," Anthony growled.
"Dear heaven, this is a disaster," Meredith whispered.
Gabriel smiled. "Do not concern yourself, Lady Phoebe." He tugged his gloves on. "You need not protect me from your family. I assure you that this time I can take care of myself."
With a polite inclination of his head that was directed solely at her, he turned and walked into the shadows.
Gabriel smiled with a curious sense of satisfaction as he opened the newspaper. At last he had the answer to what had become a pressing question during the past few days. Phoebe's eyes were the warm, golden color of fine topaz.
She reminded him of the brilliant fish in the lagoons of the South Seas. Phoebe was a creature of bright colors and shimmering hues. Last night the chandeliers had gleamed on her dark hair, causing the red fire buried there to blaze. Her vivid gown had reminded him of an island sunrise. And when he had taken her into his arms on the dance floor, he had been keenly aware of the sensual excitement that burned within him.
He wanted her more than ever. The fact that she was Clarington's daughter could not alter that. But it did not affect the situation, either, he assured himself. He could have both the woman and the revenge.
Gabriel made an effort to concentrate on his newspaper. His club was quiet this morning. The majority of such establishments were usually quiet at this hour. Most of the members were still sleeping off the effects of a late night and a prodigious quantity of alcohol. It had been eight years since he had last been here, but little had changed. That very lack of change was the sign of a good club.