Devil in Spring (The Ravenels #3) - Lisa Kleypas Page 0,121

he—” Breaking off, Ransom shook his head helplessly, his face blank. “Strychnine pills,” he said. “Took them right in front of me. I’m sorry, my lord, but you won’t have your five minutes with him after all.” He slid the clockwork mechanism into his pocket. “God knows how far this has gone, or who else in the Home Office and Detective Force might be involved. Prescott didn’t act alone.”

“What are you going to do?” Gabriel asked.

Ransom smiled without amusement. “I’m not sure yet. But whatever it is, I’ll need to do it carefully.”

“If there’s any way I can help—” Gabriel began.

“No,” Ransom interrupted, “it’s better if we part company for good. Now that Prescott’s dead, Lady St. Vincent is safe. The less you have to do with me, the better. Don’t talk to anyone about the events of tonight. Don’t mention my visit to your house.”

“We’ll never see you again?” Pandora asked, crestfallen.

A gleam of genuine warmth entered his eyes as he glanced at her. “Not if I can help it, my lady.”

Ransom shook hands with Dragon, but hesitated as he turned to Gabriel. Usually men exchanged a handshake only if they were of similar rank.

Gabriel reached out and clasped his hand firmly. “Good luck, Ransom.”

The detective responded with a short nod and began to leave.

“There’s one thing I want to ask,” Gabriel said.

Turning back to him, Ransom lifted his brows slightly.

Gabriel’s stare was steady and speculative. “What connection do you have to the Ravenels?”

Astonished, Pandora looked from her husband to Ethan Ransom, who hesitated a bit longer than one might have expected before replying. “None at all. Why do you ask?”

“When I first met you,” Gabriel said, “I thought your eyes were black. But they’re dark blue, rimmed with black. I’ve only seen four people in my life with eyes that color, all of them Ravenels.” He paused. “And now you.”

Ransom responded with a dry laugh. “My father was a prison guard. My mother’s profession is one I can’t mention in polite company. I’m no Ravenel, my lord.”

“What do you think will happen to Mr. Ransom?” Pandora asked during the carriage ride home. Dragon had elected to sit up top with the driver, leaving her in privacy with Gabriel. She cuddled in the crook of her husband’s shoulder, while his warm hand stroked over her idly.

“He’s in a difficult position,” Gabriel said. “Accusing government officials of conspiring in terrorism plots with violent radicals generally isn’t good for a man’s health.”

Pandora frowned in worry. “Gabriel . . .” She was forced to pause as an irresistible yawn overtook her. “Do you really think there’s some connection between Mr. Ransom and my family?”

“It would be a strange coincidence,” he admitted. “But there were moments now and then when I saw a hint of something familiar in one of his expressions or gestures.”

“Yes, I noticed that too.” She rubbed her eyes. “I liked him. Despite what he said, I still hope we’ll see him again someday.”

“We might.” Gabriel pulled her into his lap, settling her comfortably. “Rest against me. Soon we’ll be home, and I’ll put you to bed.”

“Only if you come to bed with me.” She reached up to touch his lips with her fingertip, and tried to sound seductive. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

“I appreciate the thought,” he said, sounding amused, “but you’re already half-asleep.”

“I’m not tired,” Pandora insisted, feeling a surge of love for him, more searing emotion than her body could contain. He was her partner, lover, and husband—everything she hadn’t known she’d always wanted. “My brain wants to stay awake.”

“You can barely keep your eyes open,” he mocked gently. “I’d rather wait until morning, when there’s half a chance of mutual participation.”

“I’ll show you participation,” she threatened. “I’ll ravish you. I’ll wear the flesh from your bones.”

“Easy, little pirate.” Gabriel smiled and smoothed her hair until she relaxed against him. “There’s time enough for that. I’m yours tonight and forever, through joy, adversity, and the thousand natural shocks of life.” His voice turned irresistibly soft, like raw velvet. “But for now all I want is to hold you, Pandora . . . my heart, my slow waltz, my sweet fate. Let me watch over your dreams tonight . . . and in the morning I’ll worship you as you deserve. What do you say to that?”

Yes. Oh, yes. Worship sounded nice. Sleep sounded nice. Pandora was suddenly too tired to utter a word, her mind drifting into an agreeably warm, blanket-soft darkness, while his arms cradled