All Night Long

  “I must tell you that I found many of the artifacts exceedingly unpleasant, even disturbing in some manner.”

  “Did you indeed, Miss Milton?” he asked very softly.

  “My apologies, sir,” she said hastily. “I did not mean to offend your taste or that of the other members of the society.”

  He was amused. “Never fear, Miss Milton, I am not so easily offended. As it happens you are a very perceptive woman. The artifacts here at Arcane House were not collected with a view toward preserving the elegant or the artistic. Each was brought here for purposes of scientific study.”

  “Why did the society decide to have the collection photographed?”

  “There are many members throughout Britain and in other parts of the world who wish to examine the relics but are unable to make the journey to Arcane House. The Master of the society decreed that a photographer be employed to record the relics so that those who cannot view them in person will be able to study the pictures.”

  “The society plans to issue the photographs in the form of albums that can be dispersed to the members?”

  “That is the intent, yes,” he said. “But the society does not want the pictures made available to curiosity seekers and the general public. That is why, by the terms of our agreement, I will take possession of the negatives. That way the number of prints produced can be strictly controlled.”

  “You do understand that our arrangement is most unusual. Until this commission, it has been my practice to retain possession of every negative that I create.”

  “I appreciate your reluctance to alter your customary mode of business.” His brows rose slightly. “But I believe the society did make it worth your while in this instance.”

  She blushed. “Yes.”

  He shifted slightly in the shadows, taking his foot down off the low wall. It was the most casual of motions but it somehow closed the space between them, heightening the sense of intimacy in a way that made her pulse race.

  He reached out with one hand and lightly gripped the lapel of the coat she wore. “I am pleased that you are satisfied with our financial arrangements.”

  She went very still, startlingly aware of his strong fingers so tantalizingly close to her throat. This was definitely not a casual sort of touch, she thought.

  “I hope you will be equally satisfied with my work,” she said.

  “I have seen enough in the past few days to know that you are an excellent photographer, Miss Milton. The pictures you created are remarkably clear and detailed in every respect.”

  She swallowed hard, striving to project a woman-of-the-world image. “You did say that you wanted to be able to see every inscription and line of engraving on every artifact.”

  “Detail and clarity are critical.”

  He gripped both lapels of the coat and drew her closer. She did not even attempt to resist. This was what she had been yearning for these past few days and nights, she reminded herself. She was not about to lose her nerve at this juncture.

  “I have found my work here quite…stimulating,” she whispered, staring at his mouth.

  “Did you?”

  “Oh, yes.” She could hardly breathe now.

  He tugged her a little closer.

  “Would it be presumptuous of me to conclude that you find me somewhat interesting, too?” he asked. “Or have I misread the situation between us?”

  Excitement shot through her, brighter than the glare of the magnesium ribbons she occasionally used to light her subjects. Her mouth went dry.

  “I find you quite riveting, Mr. Jones.”

  She leaned closer, parting her lips a little, inviting him to kiss her.

  He responded at last. His mouth closed on hers, slow and searching. She heard herself make a soft, urgent little sound and then, greatly emboldened, she put her arms around his neck, clinging as though for dear life.

  The warm coat slid off her shoulders but she paid no attention. She no longer needed the garment. Gabriel was holding her tightly against him. The heat of his body and the invisible energy of his aura enveloped her.

  The kiss was beyond her wildest dreams and fantasies. There was much about Gabriel that remained an enigma, but she knew at last that his desire for her was very real.

  Her seduction plan was a blazing success.

  “I think,” Gabriel said against her throat, “that it is time to go back inside.”

  He picked her up in his arms as though she were weightless and carried her back through the open door into the inviting warmth of the fire-lit library.

  Two

  He set her down on her feet in front of the fire. Holding her mouth captive with his own, he went to work unfastening the hooks at the front of the stiff bodice of her gown. She shivered again in spite of the warmth of the flames on the hearth and was suddenly very glad that she numbered herself among the many women who considered corsets unhealthful as well as uncomfortable. It would have been awkward, indeed, to stand here while Gabriel unlaced her, she thought.

  Oddly disoriented and a little unsteady, she instinctively braced her hands against his shoulders. When she felt the sleek muscle beneath the fabric of his shirt an unfamiliar heat swirled inside her.

  Impulsively she flexed her hands, sinking her nails into him.

  Gabriel smiled slowly. “Ah, my sweet Miss Milton, I do believe that you will drive me mad tonight.”

  The heavy gown fell away before she even realized that he had gotten it open. The dark crimson skirts pooled at her feet. She drew a sharp, unsteady breath when his hand cupped her breast. Through the fine linen of her underclothes she was intensely aware of his fingers moving gently, coaxingly, across her nipple.

  The next thing she knew her hair was tumbling down around her bare shoulders. He had removed the pins, she thought.

  It dawned on her that in spite of the fact that this was her seduction, he was doing all the work now. Surely as a woman of the world she should be doing something more assertive.

  She caught one end of his bow tie and yanked hard.

  A little too hard.

  Gabriel gave a husky laugh. “Do you mean to strangle me before we have concluded this business, Miss Milton?”

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered, horrified.

  “Allow me.”

  He deftly unknotted the tie. It dangled briefly from his fingers and then, to her astonishment, he draped it lightly around her throat. In the firelight, his eyes darkened with an emotion she knew was desire.

  In a matter of a few more moments, the length of black silk was all that she wore. She closed her eyes against the realization that she was nude in front of her dream lover.

  “You are very beautiful,” he said against her throat.

  She knew that was somewhat short of the truth but she suddenly felt quite lovely, such was the power of his voice and the atmosphere of the room.

  “So are you,” she blurted, enthralled.

  He laughed softly, picked her up and settled her on the velvet cushions of the sofa. Dazed from the waves of excitement and sensation pulsing through her, she closed her eyes. The end of the sofa gave beneath his weight. She heard one of his boots hit the floor and then the other.

  He rose from the sofa. She opened her eyes in time to watch him strip off his shirt. In the golden light of the fire she could see that he was sleekly, powerfully made.

  He stepped out of his trousers and tossed them aside.

  When he turned back to her she froze at the sight of his aroused body.

  He, too, went still.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  “Nothing,” she managed. She could hardly tell him that this was the first time she had ever seen an adult man naked and erect. A woman of the world would be familiar with a sight like this, she reminded herself.

  “Do you find the sight of me displeasing?” he asked, still not moving.

  She drew a deep, steadying breath and gave him a tremulous smile.

  “I find the sight of you very…s
timulating,” she whispered.

  “Stimulating.” He sounded as though he did not know what to make of that. Then he smiled his mysterious smile. “I believe you used that term to describe your work here at Arcane House. Does that mean that you would like to set up your camera before we proceed?”

  “Mr. Jones.”

  He came to her in a low roar of masculine laughter. Lowering himself down on top of her, he slid one muscled thigh between her legs.

  He breathed hot, seductive, shockingly wicked words against the bare skin of her breast. She responded impulsively, not with words because she could no longer speak, but with her body. She twisted and arched beneath his weight, clutching at him.

  Very soon he ceased talking to her. His breathing became harsher. She could feel his muscles tightening beneath her hands. The dark thrills flashing through her were so intense that she could not even spare a second to be shocked anew when he reached down between them and caressed her sex.

  She needed him to touch her like that. In fact, she needed more; much more.

  “Yes,” she whispered. “Please, yes.”

  “Anything,” he got out hoarsely. “Anything you want. You have only to ask.”

  He stroked her until she pleaded with him for a release she could not describe, until she was clenched with need. When he slipped a finger inside her the sense of urgency became unbearable.

  She realized that a similar sensation was riding him, too. He groaned, as though he ached somewhere deep inside. He was no longer touching her with the exquisite tenderness of a gentlemanly lover. Instead he was fighting her for the embrace, tormenting her, challenging her. She fought back, glorying in the sensual battle.

  “You were made for me,” he said suddenly, as though the words had been ripped from him. “You are mine.”

  It was a statement, not an endearment. A declaration of indisputable fact.

  He caught her face between his hands. “Say it. Say that you are mine.”

  “I am yours.” For tonight, she added silently. She raked her nails across his back.

  Energy swirled around them. Her aura, she thought in some distant part of her mind, somehow it had infused with his to create an invisible metaphysical storm that engulfed them both.

  When she narrowed her eyes slightly she realized that her paranormal vision was flashing in and out of focus. Light and shadow reversed and reversed again.

  Gabriel used one hand to fit himself to her. He probed once and then he drove deep with a single, relentless thrust.

  Pain snapped through her, shattering the sensual trance.

  Gabriel froze, every muscle rock solid.

  “Sweet hell,” he muttered. He raised his head and looked down at her with eyes that were as dangerous as his dark aura. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Because I knew you would stop if I did,” she whispered. She speared her fingers through his hair. “And I didn’t want you to stop.”

  He groaned. “Venetia.”

  But the energy they had generated between them was rising once more. Gabriel lowered his mouth to hers in a kiss that had all the hallmarks of a stamp of possession as well as passion.

  When he freed her she drew in an unsteady breath, wriggling a little in an effort to adjust to the intimate invasion.

  “Don’t,” Gabriel said. “Move.” He sounded as though he was having trouble breathing.

  She smiled a little, put her arms around his neck and pulled him more tightly to her.

  “You do realize you will pay for this,” he said.

  “I certainly hope so.”

  He started to withdraw very slowly.

  “No.” She tightened herself around him, trying to hold him deep inside.

  “I’m not going anywhere,” he said.

  The words were both a promise and a delicious threat.

  He drove back into her, filling her, stretching her to the limit. She wanted this desperately but she could not take any more of it, she thought.

  Without warning the great tension inside her was released in compelling waves, a pleasure so intense that it bordered on pain.

  With an exultant roar, Gabriel surged into her one last time. His climax caused the psychical fire to leap with such potent force that she was amazed it did not set the whole of Arcane House ablaze.

  Three

  She felt Gabriel stir a long time later. He sat up slowly, his hand resting on her breast. He studied her for a long time in the firelight before he bent his head, kissed her lightly and got to his feet.

  He picked up her underclothes and handed them to her. Then he reached for his trousers.

  “I think,” he said, “that you owe me an explanation.”

  She crushed the fine linen of her chemise between her fingers. “You are annoyed because I did not tell you that I had never done this sort of thing before.”

  He looked thoughtful, almost amused. “Annoyed is not the right word. I am delighted to know that you have not done this sort of thing before with any other man. But you should have made that clear at the outset.”

  She struggled into the chemise. “If I had, would you have gone forward with the project?”

  “Yes, my sweet. Without a doubt.”

  She looked up, startled. “Is that true?”

  “It’s true.” He smiled slightly. “But I like to think that I would have employed rather more finesse.”

  “I…see.”

  He watched her face in the firelight. “Does that shock you?”

  “I’m not sure. Yes, I think it does.”

  “Why? Did you believe me to be such a proper gentleman, then?”

  “Well, yes,” she admitted.

  “And I believed you to be a lady with some experience of the world. It seems that we were both under some minor misconceptions.”

  “Minor misconceptions?” she repeated coolly.

  “Not that they matter now.” He fastened his trousers. “Tell me, what made you decide to seduce me?”

  So much for her powers of subtlety. She was embarrassed that she had been so obvious.

  “Given my age and circumstances, it has become clear that I am unlikely to ever marry,” she said. “Frankly, sir, I saw no reason on earth why I should feel obliged to deny myself a taste of passion for the rest of my life. If I were a man, no one would expect me to remain celibate forever.”

  “You are correct, of course. When it comes to certain things, Society sets down a different set of rules for men than it does for women.”

  “Nevertheless, there are rules.” She sighed. “One flaunts them at one’s peril. I have certain responsibilities to my family. I must be careful to avoid any scandal that could ruin my photography career. It is our only source of income.”

  “But when you arrived at Arcane House it occurred to you that the situation offered an opportunity to conduct a grand experiment with illicit passion, is that it?”

  “Yes.” She had her dress on now. She busied herself with the hooks. “You did not appear to object, sir. In fact, you seemed quite willing to go along with my experiment.”

  “I was, indeed, quite willing.”

  “Well, there you have it.” Relieved that her logic had proven sound, she managed a smile. “There is no need for either of us to be concerned about what happened here tonight. We will soon go our separate ways. When I return home to Bath, it will be as though it was all a dream.”

  “I don’t know about you,” Gabriel said, suddenly quite grim, “but I think I need some fresh air.”

  “No offense, sir, but are men always this moody after making love?”

  “I happen to possess rather delicate sensibilities.”

  He took her hand and led her back out onto the terrace. The evening coat that he had given her to wear earlier lay in a crumpled heap on the stone. He picked it up and draped it once more around her shoulders.

  “Now,” he said, gripping the lapels to hold her where he wanted her. “About this theory of yours that what happened here tonight w
ill soon be nothing more than a dream.”

  “What of it?”

  “I have news for you, my sweet. The situation between us is somewhat more complicated than you believe it to be.”

  “I don’t understand,” she whispered.

  “Trust me, I am all too well aware of that. But I do not think that tonight is the right moment for a full explanation. Tomorrow will be soon enough.”

  He bent his head to kiss her again. But this time she could not abandon herself to the embrace. Uncertainty was clawing at her. Perhaps she had made a terrible mistake, after all.

  Gabriel’s temper seemed uncertain, even volatile. All in all, he was behaving in an extremely odd manner for a man who had just been engaged in an act of passion. Then again, what did she know of how men acted after such events?

  His mouth covered hers. She opened her eyes, braced her hands on his shoulders and pushed hard. It was like trying to shove aside a mountain. Gabriel did not move but he did raise his head.

  “Will you deny me a good-night kiss?” he asked.

  She did not answer him. She wanted to view his aura first. It might give her some clue to his true emotions.

  For a second or two her vision wavered between normal and paranormal. Light and shadow reversed. The night took on the aspect of a photographic negative.

  Gabriel’s aura became visible. But so did someone else’s.

  Startled, she looked out into the dark woods beyond the garden.

  “What is it?” Gabriel asked quietly.

  She realized that he had immediately understood that something was wrong.

  “There is someone out there in the woods,” she said.

  “One of the servants,” he suggested, turning to look.

  “No.” There were very few servants at Arcane House. Over the past few days, her curiosity about the place had prompted her to view all of their auras. Whoever was out there in the thick trees was a stranger to her.

  A second aura appeared, trailing swiftly behind the first.

  There was no point trying to describe what she saw to Gabriel. Let him think that her vision was especially keen. That was, in a sense, the truth.