Robin Schone by Gabriel's Woman (10 ebook reader TXT) 📕

The man—Gabriel—stood in the doorway, silver eyes gleaming, hair a silver halo. Matching silver glinted

in his hands.

She had not heard him open the door. But why should she have? she wondered in that part of her brain

that was still capable of reasoning. Victoria had not heard him open it when she stood directly behind him.

Now the entire bedchamber separated them.

He made no attempt to conceal the small snub-nosed pistol—the metal was shiny silver instead of dull

blue-black—and the lethal-looking knife that he held.

Neither were of a size or shape that could be concealed inside a women’s—or a man’s—body.

Victoria stared at the knife. The tip was jagged—like the teeth of a saw—the blade long, wide.

She had never seen anything like it.

Her gaze glanced off the knife, focused on the man instead of his weapons.

“ ‘Your breasts ache to be fondled and suckled by a man,’ ” he quoted, silver eyes glinting. They were

far, far more dangerous than a knife blade. “ ‘The eternal hunger of a woman.’ ”

The words were seductive in script; spoken in that silky, caressing voice they were fantasy given

speech.

“ ‘I would soothe your aching flesh,’ ” he continued. “ ‘I would satisfy your hunger.’ ”

Victoria’s heartbeat faltered.

The silver-eyed, silver-haired man looked as if he had never ached or hungered in his entire life.

Who was the real Gabriel?

The man who had asked her if she would let him hold her dripping with sweat, or the man who

effortlessly wielded the deadly knife?

“ ‘Soon your suffering will cease, and you will know the pleasure to be found in a man’s arms,’ ”

Gabriel continued quoting. “ ‘You will know the pleasure to be found in my arms, Victoria Childers. I will

care for you, comfort you, rescue you from the burden of your impoverishment... All you need do, my very

dear governess, is gift me with your maidenhead, and you need not suffer anymore.’ ”

Memory filled in the missing half sentence:

. . . I will care for you, comfort you, rescue you from the burden of your impoverishment, an

evil which I’m sure you will come to understand as necessary when I have fully satisfied your

desires. All you need do, my very dear governess, is gift me with your maidenhead, and you

need not suffer anymore.

“You have an excellent memory, sir,” she said evenly. Wondering when her self-possession would

disappear like the illusion it was.

It should not be possible for a man who moved so leisurely to eat up space so quickly.

“Yes, I do, Victoria Childers.” Gabriel stood over her, face pale, expression enigmatic. Holding the knife

and the short, snub-nosed pistol out for her inspection, he gently asked, “Were you looking for these?”

He appeared calm: he was not. Victoria could feel the energy radiating from him.

He did not like having his drawers searched: she didn’t blame him. He did not like the fact that she

would escape him: for that she did blame him.

Would he kill her now, or would he let her live?

Whatever the outcome, she would not beg.

“I don’t know,” she said truthfully.

He stepped to the side of the open drawer. Her face turned upward to his. Warily following him.

Not knowing what to expect.

Not knowing when to expect it.

Gabriel dropped the pistol and the knife.

Instinctively her gaze followed the fall of silver. The two weapons landed inside the bottom drawer on

top of a pile of neatly folded, starched shirts.

The dark wooden pistol grip and the leather-bound knife handle sank into the pile of white shirts more

deeply than did the silver barrel and blade.

“You did not need to search my bedroom, mademoiselle,” he said in that deceptively smooth voice. “

There are weapons inside the bathroom.”

Victoria did not answer.

“A toothbrush, for example, can pierce the throat if applied with enough force.”

Yes, Victoria had seen all manner of death these last six months.

Lifting up her head, she resolutely met his silver gaze; the crackling fire snapped and popped inside her

ears. “It does not sound like a very effective weapon.”

“Then I would recommend that you use the derringer.” Silk whispered, leather boots creaked. One

second Gabriel loomed over Victoria, the next second he hunkered down, legs an inviting black V, hands

resting lightly on his thighs. “It shoots accurately within a distance of three feet. A knife is certainly sharper

than a toothbrush, but it, too, requires a certain amount of force. It also entails a larger degree of risk than

does a revolver, especially for a woman. You must get close to your intended victim in order to use it; if the

man—or woman—whom you intend to dispatch is stronger, the knife will be taken away and used against

you. Unless, of course, you’re proficient at throwing a knife, which I doubt you are. But I leave your choice

of weapon up to you.”

Victoria’s eyes widened. “Are you inviting me to kill you, sir?”

“Yes.” Picking up the short, snub-nosed pistol, he turned it and held it out grip first. “Take it,

mademoiselle.”

Tak e it echoed over the