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

crackling fire.

She had rummaged through his underwear—thin silk socks, embroidered silk handkerchiefs, fine woolen

drawers that were softer than down.

This could not be happening.

A man who wore silk socks, embroidered handkerchiefs and fine woolen drawers did not ask a woman

to kill him.

Victoria numbly took the proffered pistol; the hard wooden grip was warmed by his hand.

There was neither encouragement nor discouragement in his silver gaze.

Victoria licked her lips, flesh rough and chapped. “If I shoot you, the waiter outside will apprehend me.”

Gabriel’s lips looked petal soft. “Probably.”

The pistol dropped from her nerveless fingers; a muffled impact filled her ears, the collision of the pistol

and starched shirts. “Then you will pardon me if I do not accept your invitation.”

He leaned forward, reaching . . .

Victoria did not take her gaze from his.

Slowly he lifted the knife in front of her.

Light glinted off the serrated blade. A blade that had been designed for no other purpose than to kill.

To kill while inflicting as much pain as possible.

He knew how to use that knife, Victoria thought with a catch in her breath. For pain.

For death.

Expertly he balanced the ivory grip in the palm of his hand. “But you see, mademoiselle,” silver glinted

through long, dark eyelashes, “it is not a choice that I offer you.”

Slowly his eyelashes lifted, silvery gray eyes gleaming unimpeded. “If you do not kill me, then I will kill

you.”

Victoria glanced at the snub-nosed pistol half buried inside his pile of starched shirts. She glanced at the

knife so casually wielded in his left hand.

The desire to live warred with the desire to survive.

Taking a deep breath, she met his gaze. “In that event, I would prefer that you shoot me, sir. I believe it

would be less painful than being killed by a knife. Unless, of course, it is your intention to cause pain.”

“This is not a game.”

Victoria’s heart lurched, sped to make up for the skipped beat. “It is certainly not one that I am familiar

with.”

“You do not think I will kill you,” Gabriel said flatly, expression unreadable.

“On the contrary, sir.” Victoria’s heart surely could not maintain its current level of activity—she would

die of heart failure. “You were generous enough to advise me as to which weapon would be most effective

in the hands of a woman. I merely wished to relay my preference as to which weapon I would have used

against me.”

“Are you afraid to die, mademoiselle?”

Yes.

“I have lived with the thought of death these last six months,” Victoria said with a calmness she was far

from feeling. “I am tired of being frightened.”

“But you are frightened.”

“Fear is a natural response to that which is unknown.” The serrated teeth glinted hungrily. “I have never

before died.”

The little death.

The final death.

“Desire is natural, also, mademoiselle. Yet you are afraid of that, too.”

Anger leaked through Victoria’s fear. “I will not become a victim of a man’s lust.”

“Nor will you beg.”

“No.” She firmed her lips. “I will not beg.”

“A man can make a woman beg, mademoiselle.”

For pleasure, he did not need to say.

Scalding blood filled Victoria’s cheeks.

“Some women, perhaps.” She defiantly tilted her chin. “I am not like that.”

“We are all like that.”

“Men do not beg for sexual release,” Victoria said scornfully.

Her father had taught her that. Women were weak, not men.

Women paid the consequences of their desires, not men.

“I have begged for sexual release, mademoiselle.”

Victoria stared.

Darkness glittered inside Gabriel’s eyes.

She remembered how he had avoided contact with her hand when she had reached for the silk napkin.

If I had not bid on you, mademoiselle, you would die a far worse death than any caused by

corrosive sublimate.

Victoria grappled with the truth. “This man whom you believe directed me to the House of—to your

house—”

Gabriel silently waited for Victoria to complete the connection.

“—it was he who made you beg,” she concluded.

“Yes,” he said bluntly.

Waiting for Victoria to condemn him.

Perhaps she would have six months earlier.

“And you think that this man would ... do ... things... to make me beg.”

“If you leave this house, yes.”

“Why?”

Why would a man whom she had had no knowledge of prior to this night wish to harm her?

“Men kill for many reasons. Some men kill for money. Some men kill for sport. And some men,

mademoiselle, kill merely because they can.”

The blood drained out of her face.

In the last six months she had seen respectable men physically abuse beggars, genteel ladies verbally

assault streetwalkers, and children taunt children because they did not have shoes or unfrayed clothing.

Simply because they could.

Victoria rallied. “You said he would kill me, sir, not rape me for his enjoyment.”

“What he does has no bearing on pleasure or enjoyment.” There was no pleasure or enjoyment in

Gabriel’s eyes. What had the man done to him? “In the end, he would kill you.”

“He did not kill you.”

“It was not a part of his plan.”

Rape. Death.

Laissez le jeu commencer.

Let the play begin.

When would it end?.

Victoria tried to match Gabriel’s cold logic. “But my death would be a part of this plan.”

“Yes.”

“Because I am dispensable,” she repeated his earlier words.

The serrated silver blade glittered in agreement.

“Yes.”

Yellow orange and blue flames leaped inside the satinwood fireplace.

Victoria had never known burning logs could emit so much cold.

“Do you plan on killing me, then, to spare me this ... death?”

“You would thank me in the end.”

Anger bubbled up inside Victoria. “The man who wrote those letters said that after I gifted him with my

virginity I would understand the ‘necessary evil’ of losing everything I’ve ever worked for. Now you claim

I