Page 32 of Black Widow

She shook her head violently. “How can you say such a terrible thing? Crispin adored him, and the feeling wasmutual.”

He stepped up to her. “You know, the latter may be true to the best of your knowledge. Martin was an innocent and naive young man. He did not see the truth of people until it was too late. Worthing would not have had to expend much effort to foolhim.”

His face was like stone as he towered over her. “On the day Martin died, you came home from your morning calls. You found him at the bottom of the stairs—and you saidThis is all myfault.”

How did he know that? Had he been making inquiries about her? Spying onher?

“I don’t remember saying that,” she said, pressing her handstogether.

It was the truth, although those words were familiar. They had become an almost daily refrain in her thoughts for the pastyear.

“Are you and Worthing lovers?” Gideon’s voice was ragged, as if the question had been ripped from his verycore.

“No!”

His hands opened and closed as if he was contemplating strangling her. “I know you are lying because I saw the pin myself,” he said, his jaw so stiff she thought it wouldbreak.

“Whatpin?”

“The one awarded for the Classics prize at Abingdon. It was one of Martin’s most-treasured possessions. He was inordinately proud of it and always wore it. I know because I nicked it once as a lark when I visited his rooms at the school. I felt terrible when he tore his room apart afterward. He was frantic to findit.”

Gideon took her by the arm, his grip biting into her forearm. “The only person Martin would have given it to is you, his wife. And you gave it to yourlover.”

“I didnot.”

“So I’m supposed to believe Martin gave it toWorthing?”

“Yes, you fool. They wereclose!”

“Don’t try to fob me off with that Banbury tale. The prize meant everything to Martin—more so because Sir Clarence derided it. Martin would never have given it away to a mere friend. And now Worthing wears it like some sort of blasted souvenir of hisconquest.”

Amelia clenched her fists and leaned forward. “Martin gave that pin to Crispin. I saw him do it. I wasthere!”

Gideon stared down at her furiously, raising his hand. She flinched and took a quick stepback.

He hesitated, his eyes flaring with an intense heat. Reaching out, he took hold of her hair. His grip was not painful as he pulled her inexorably towardhim.

His mouth came down on hers. Shocked, she froze, but his kiss was as relentless as the rest of him. As potent as any drug, it demanded a response. She tried to give him the one her conscience demanded. She beat on his chest with her fists and tried to claw his face before he caught her hands inhis.

Amelia expected his grip to tighten so he could lord his superior strength over her, but to her surprise, he let her hands go. Instead, he stroked down her back, coaxing her against him. A flash of awareness came and went. She had melted against him, her token resistance burned away by the heat of his passion. His mouth was robbing her good sense, plundering and claiming with a skill she had never dreamed existed, let aloneexperienced.

Gideon raised his head. He moved his hands up to the sides of her face. There was a visible tremor in hisfingers.

“Do you wantme?”

Amelia was shaking from head to foot, but her “Yes,” was clear enough. Her trembling hands rested briefly on Gideon’s shoulders before she snatched them back like they had scaldedher.

Her assent had freed Gideon from whatever gentlemanly restraint had been holding him back. He carried her to the floor, covering her body with his. His mouth flamed over her mouth, his tongue teasing until she parted herlips.

She whimpered as his taste filled her mouth. His response to the small sound was telling. He rocked against her, his hands shifting clothing and exposingher.

She should have been chilled by the cool night air, but all she felt was heat. He caressed her with rough hands, but she could not have borne gentleness from him. Notthen.

Somehow, Amelia had developed a second heartbeat. To her shame, it was between her legs. The flesh there had grown moist. As Gideon’s fingers moved over her, tracing patterns in the moisture he found there, she could feel herself pulsing under histouch.

There was a rustle of fabric as Gideon unfastened his trousers. In the next moment, he had fitted himself between her legs with a huskygroan.

“Gideon, what are you doing?” Why wasn’t he moving down herbody?

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