For an instant, he saw Jessabelle on the last night of her short life, tossed like another piece of rubbish in the alley behind the pleasure house. He saw the surprise on her angel’s face as she lay there, the vermin gathering around her, drawn to the dark stain soaking through her tawdry dress. Crystals had glittered like tears on the golden demi-mask still dangling from her neck.
I’m sorry, luv. I was lonely…Her fading whisper.Forgive me?
He’d forgiven her but not himself. She’d died because he’d failed to protect her from the recklessness and excesses that were part of her nature. Because he’d asked her to marry him despite knowing that his ambition was a demanding mistress. Because he’d forgotten the lesson he’d learned at age nine:
A powerful man isn’t blinded by sentiment.
Love was a distraction he couldn’t afford, not while he still had his vengeance to achieve. Not only did love weaken a man, he couldn’t see any benefit to the emotion: all it resulted in was pain. His mama had loved a man who’d abandoned her and tried to murder their son. Adam had loved a woman who’d betrayed him, her death leaving him with nothing but guilt and regret. Hell, even his mama’s love for him had led to suffering; in her naïve efforts to save him, she’d delivered him into the hands of the devil.
No, love, that fickle, deceptive emotion, couldn’t be trusted. He’d learned from his past, adapted accordingly. Self-control and cool-headed logic had led to his success in business, and he’d applied those principles to relationships as well. He felt a surge of satisfaction as his wife’s sky-blue eyes immediately searched him out. He’d made a rational, intelligent decision marrying her eight years ago.
As he’d made his views on love clear from the outset, there were no false expectations to muddy their union. Gabriella gave him no trouble for she was sweetly biddable and eager to please. She was the opposite of a flirt: a wallflower who was shy, insecure, and a bit nervy. She tended to chatter when she was anxious. And when she was not anxious. She was loyal, trusting, and tenderhearted, willing to see the best in others while being overly attuned to her own flaws.
She was also endearingly unaware of her own charms. She favored frocks that hid more than they revealed, and that was fine by him. He didn’t need other men to get an eyeful of what lay beneath those frills and flounces: those pleasures were for him alone.
Moreover, there were pragmatic benefits to his marriage. Gabriella’s father, Curtis Billings, was a banker known equally for his discretion and flexible morality. He was as rich as Croesus, and Gabriella was his only child and heir. Yet money hadn’t been the reason why Adam offered for her. Billings Bank had another, more vital role to play. Once his father-in-law was dead—and given the man’s ailing health, the day wasn’t far off—Adam would have the means to execute the last piece of his long-awaited vengeance.
Numquam obliviscar.Never forget. An eye for an eye.
One by one, Adam had served retribution to those who’d wronged him. Only his ultimate enemy remained: Anthony De Villier. Up until now, De Villier’s wealth and success had made him difficult to destroy, but the tides had finally started to turn.
In recent years, De Villier had become obsessed with the railways. Not only had he waged expensive campaigns to gain the necessary Acts of Parliament to build routes from London to various cities, he’d claimed that his company, Grand London National Railway or GLNR, would soon be unveiling the world’s fastest locomotive. The steam-powered engine that would revolutionize travel had proved to be a brilliant selling point: the price of De Villier’s stock was soaring. From aristocrats to bricklayers, everyone was investing in GLNR.
Yet Adam had inside information. According to his well-placed source, De Villier’s engineers couldn’t produce the promised locomotive. Between constructing the railways and the development of the much-touted engine, De Villier had been bleeding money, taking out huge loans in secret, his debts beginning to outpace even his considerable wealth. Soon, his Achilles’ heel would be exposed…and Adam would deal the killing blow.
He could have ended De Villier with a bullet, but that wouldn’t satisfy his honor. He needed to take away the only things the bastard cared about: the wealth and social standing for which De Villier had abandoned his wife and sent his son to perdition. Then, and only then, would Adam have the peace he’d been searching for all these years.
“Pardon my interruption, sirs.” Gabriella’s breathless voice returned him to the moment.
“You are always a welcome and charming distraction from work, Mrs. Garrity,” Murray said with a bow.
When Gabriella blushed, brushing her hands over the abundant skirts of her blue gown, Adam felt his jaw clench. He forced the muscles to relax. He knew Murray meant nothing by it; flirting was second nature for the rake. All the same, Adam didn’t like anyone dallying with what was his.
Gabriella was most definitely his.
He crossed over to her, taking her hand. Her gaze flew to his, and primal satisfaction filled him as her pupils darkened, her plump, naturally red lips parting as he brushed a kiss over her soft knuckles. Her fingers trembled in his grasp…the way she trembled in his bed.
Although Adam had made it a habit not to be taken by surprise, he had to admit that his wife’s physical effect on him had been most unexpected. After all, he prided himself on self-discipline and didn’t believe in indulging in excessive appetites of any sort. A man ought to be in control of his impulses, not the other way around. Yet from the start, sweet, guileless Gabriella had made him inexplicably…randy.
At first, he’d chalked it up to the novelty of having a wife at his beck and call. But his carnal desire for her had only grown stronger and more distracting over time. Right now, for instance, his brain sizzled with the notion of bending her over his desk. Of tossing up her fussy skirts and exposing her delightfully rounded bottom, which might be too generous for fashion but was absolute perfection for bedding. As, indeed, was the rest of her.
He saw his hands on the pale quivering mounds of her arse, parting them to expose her delicate sex, the piquant red nest and silky pinkness. He knew she would be hot and wet and ready for him; she always was. An accommodating wife through and through.
But he wouldn’t take her here. Or in any place other than their proper marital bed.
And only at the regularly scheduled time.
He wouldn’t repeat his past mistakes. Jessabelle had delighted in inciting his carnal, animalistic side. His passion for her had clouded his judgement and led to her death. No way would he risk anything happening to Gabriella.
From the outset, he’d taken pains to safeguard his marriage, swaddling it in layers of routine, propriety, and restraint. He would protect his innocent lady from the darkness of his world and within himself. With Gabriella, he would never lose control, never let sentiment prevent him from thinking clearly and acting in her best interests.
He dispelled the fantasy of taking his wife on his desk. He’d had plenty of practice reining in his arousal over the last eight years. It wasn’t pleasant, but it was necessary.
He released her hand. “Did you want something, my dear?”
Her curly lashes swept up against her curving auburn brows. He hid a smile at the shy, honest desire shining in her rounded blue eyes. His spouse possessed not an ounce of coyness, another quality he liked. She couldn’t hide her feelings any more than she could fly. He always knew where he stood with her…which was a refreshing change from the scheming and machinations he was accustomed to in every other aspect of his life.
Not that he minded scheming and machinations. They were his specialties.
