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

One second she stared at a bloodstained sleeve; the next she stared into dull gray eyes. “I’m not an

angel.”

Cool air gushed inside the widening vent of corded silk. “I think, Gabriel, that angels aren’t who we think

they are.”

A muscle beside the left corner of his mouth pulsed in time to her heartbeat.

“I think angels must know hunger, or they couldn’t be an angel.” Victoria shrugged out of her dress.

Padded silk slid over the satin corset, briefly caught on the ruffled bustle, slithered over silk petticoats. “I

think angels must know desire, or they could not know love.”

The heavy silk dress puddled around her feet, a far cry from the worn wool gown she had previously

shed for him. She was a far cry from the Victoria Childers who had previously undressed for him.

Victoria was a woman now, and she would not deny her needs.

Gabriel’s nostrils flared, recognizing the transformation.

Victoria reached for the laces tying the dimity bustle.

Gabriel’s face hardened. “Ask me, Victoria.”

The ruffled, apronlike bustle dropped to the floor, a muted swish.

Victoria reached for the laces of a petticoat. “Ask you what, Gabriel?”

“Ask me if I desire Michael.”

A white silk petticoat frothed over the golden brown dress. She reached for the lace of the second

petticoat. “Do you?”

Unforgiving electric light danced on Gabriel’s hair; darkness danced inside his eyes, still no silver. “What

if I said I did?”

White silk puddled atop more white silk.

Gabriel instinctively followed the fall of the petticoat, stared at the silk drawers that clung to her hips.

Immediately his head snapped up, gaze snagging hers. “I don’t know.”

The cry of an angel.

The pain in Gabriel’s voice crushed Victoria’s heart. She unbuttoned the two small ivory buttons

fastening the band of her drawers, gaze holding his. “Michael kissed you.”

Gabriel audibly sucked in air.

“Did you desire him then, Gabriel?” Victoria pursued.

The drawers slipped over her hips, down her thighs, dropped onto a mound of silk.

Gabriel’s body was rigid with hurt. Hurt that she had inflicted, but she didn’t want to hurt him. “Why

don’t you tell me, Victoria,” he said rawly.

The pile of silk was perilously high; the pale blue carpeting dangerously thick. Victoria carefully crossed

the divide that separated them, bare thighs rubbing, silk stockings swishing, no longer a virgin but a woman

who knew well the pain and the pleasure of loving an angel. “I can tell you, Gabriel, that I am just as guilty

of Julien’s death as you are.”

Gabriel mutely stared up at her. His pain fisted inside her stomach.

She had told Julien she would not tell Gabriel that he had allowed her out of the room; Victoria didn’t

think Julien would mind that she rescinded on her promise.

“I told Julien I wanted to visit a guest room in the hope that I would find something there to give you

pleasure. I saw a man with dark hair in the mirror, or I thought I saw a man. But he was gone so quickly I

thought it was my imagination. Gaston let me back into your suite. I didn’t tell either Julien or Gaston what I

saw. If I had, Julien might still be alive.”

Denial flashed inside his eyes, a hint of silver. “He would have investigated the corridor. He would have

died there.”

Surrounded by mirrors that were not mirrors instead of the wooden confines of a stair landing.

“Perhaps,” Victoria agreed. “But I will never know, will I? I will never know if my silence killed him.”

Her pain shone inside his eyes. “Don’t.”

“But I have to, Gabriel.” Victoria reached down to unfasten his blood-encrusted shirt, to free him from

the past. “I have to touch you.”

Hard hands cuffed her wrists. “If you touch me, Victoria, I will take you.”

Victoria did not flinch from the strength of Gabriel’s hold. She would have bruises come the morrow. “

That is the idea, sir.”

He wanted her to reject him; he wanted her to hold him.

His two disparate needs were ripping him apart.

She would not let him hurt anymore.

“You know what I am,” Gabriel said starkly.

“You are Gabriel,” Victoria steadily returned.

A man who made it possible for others to survive.

Puzzled frustration shone in his eyes, still more gray than silver. “You’ve never held my past against me.

”

Ten fingers pulsed against Victoria’s skin; she counted them one by one, five around her left wrist, five

around her right wrist. . .

“I’m selfish, Gabriel.”

The truth popped out of Victoria’s mouth unbidden.

It wasn’t the response Gabriel expected.

“You said you wouldn’t change the past; neither would I. I met Anne Aimes. She said that she paid

Michael to take her virginity. I wish I had possessed the money and the courage to come to your house and

proposition you.”

He wanted to believe her; he was afraid to believe her.

“Anne prefers violet eyes.”

The eyes of a man who had been born with the name of an angel.

“I prefer silver ones.” The eyes of a man who had wanted to be an angel. She locked her knees to

prevent them from buckling, asking the question that must be asked. “Whose do your prefer?