Gabriel came to a halt directly in front of her, clamped his hands around her shoulders, and hauled her up off the bed. "You," he said, "are not going to be anywhere near that damned book when Baxter makes his try. You will not be involved in this scheme in any way whatsoever. Understood?"

"Gabriel, I want to share this adventure with you. I have a right to do so."

"A right?"

She glared up at him mutinously. "The Lady in the Tower belongs to me."

"No, it does not. I took it from Baxter after I attacked his ship. It's mine by right of the law of the sea."

"Gabriel, that is not a valid argument, and you know it."

"Then I claim the bloody book as part of your dowry," he growled. "There. Does that satisfy you?"

"No. I still insist on being part of this plan to trap Neil."

"You may insist all you like. I will not allow you to be put in danger." He kissed her roughly and set her aside. "Now, then, I must think some more on this. Your idea of selling the book is sound, but I'm not certain I like the notion of trying to trick Baxter into waylaying the carriage. Too many uncontrollable elements in the situation."

Phoebe glared at him resentfully. "Well, don't expect me to come up with any more brilliant notions. Not if you intend to keep me from sharing in the adventure."

He ignored her. "Yes, I like the idea of selling the book." He paused by the table, picked up the knife, and began cutting through the stitching of the back cover binding. "Perhaps to someone else besides Nash, however. A book dealer here in London might work."

"That's true," Phoebe agreed, unable to resist working on the plan even though she was annoyed at being told she would not be allowed to help implement it. "Neil might believe he could steal it rather easily from a bookshop."

"We could let it be known through the gossip mills that you have decided to sell the book because you have become superstitious about it."

"It would be easy to get such gossip out. Mother and Meredith could handle that part for us."

"It just might work." Gabriel had finished cutting through the back binding.

Phoebe watched in fascination as he peeled the leather aside. He reached into the cotton padding and removed a handful of glittering stones.

"We would make the transaction in broad daylight," Gabriel continued. "The bookshop owner would be warned in advance. He would be told that I will be watching the shop, waiting for Baxter to make his move."

"I could help you keep watch," Phoebe said quickly.

"Not a chance, my sweet." Gabriel opened his palm and revealed a bracelet, earrings, and brooch that matched the necklace. "I shall ask your brother to assist me. And perhaps Stinton."

"Oh, very well." Phoebe folded her arms beneath her breasts. "Honestly, Gabriel, I do hope this is not an indication of how you intend to conduct yourself in the future. I do not want to be shut out of all the adventures."

He smiled faintly. "I give you my word, I shall endeavor to occupy you with other sorts of adventures, my dear."

"Hah."

He chuckled softly. "Trust me."

Phoebe pursed her lips. "You will need a cooperative bookshop owner."

"Yes."

"Someone who will be willing to go along with your scheme. Not every shopkeeper would want his establishment set up as a target for a thief."

Gabriel frowned thoughtfully. "True enough."

Phoebe paused delicately. "I have a suggestion."

He glanced at her curiously. "Yes?"

"Why don't you ask your publisher, Lacey, if he will let his bookshop be used for this purpose?"

"That old sot? I suppose he might be persuaded to go along with the scheme."

Phoebe slanted Gabriel an assessing look. "I am sure he could be persuaded."

"What makes you so certain of that, my dear?" Gabriel's eyes gleamed in the shadows.

Phoebe tore her gaze away from his and focused on her bare toes. "There is something I have not had an opportunity to explain, my lord."

"Is that so?" He crossed the room and wrapped one hand around the bedpost. "And what would that be?"

Phoebe cleared her throat, very conscious of him looming over her. "I kept meaning to tell you, but somehow the opportunity never arose."

"I cannot believe that, my sweet. We have had ample opportunity to discuss the most intimate matters."

"Yes, well, the truth is, I was not precisely certain how to bring up the subject. I knew you would not be pleased, you see. And the longer I kept it from you, the more I feared that you would think I had deliberately deceived you."

"Which you most certainly had."

"Not really. I just didn't mention the matter, if you see the difference. The thing is, you told me at the beginning you had a distaste for deception. And you already had such difficulty trusting me and it all got increasingly awkward. And on top of everything else I did not want my family to discover my secret and you have been on extremely close terms with them lately. You might have felt obliged to tell them what I was doing."

"Enough." Gabriel shut off the flow of words by clamping one hand gently over her mouth. "Suppose you allow me to make this latest confession easier for you, madam."

She gazed up at him over the edge of his hand and saw that his eyes were gleaming with laughter.

"Now, then." Gabriel removed his hand cautiously from her mouth. "Let us come at this from a slightly different tact. What do you think of The Reckless Venture, Madam Editor?"

"It is incredibly wonderful, my lord. I loved it. The first-print run will be at least fifteen thousand copies. And we shall increase the price, too," Phoebe said gleefully. "People will be standing in line outside of Lacey's shop to purchase it. All the circulating libraries will want copies. We shall make a fortune—" She broke off abruptly and stared at him in shock.

Gabriel leaned against the bedpost, folded his arms across his chest, and smiled his dangerous smile.

"You knew all along?" Phoebe asked weakly.

"Almost from the beginning."

"I see." She peered at him closely. She could read nothing in his expression. "Would you care to tell me precisely how annoyed you are to learn that I am your editor and publisher, my lord?"

"I believe I would rather show you."

He swooped down on her, tumbling her onto her back. He caught her up and rolled with her across the rumpled bed until she lay on top of him.

Phoebe was breathless. "I do hope you won't think you can use this technique in future to influence my opinion of your work."

"That depends. A desperate author will do almost anything to get his books published. Would this technique of influencing you be successful, do you think?"

"Very likely," Phoebe murmured.

"In that case, you may definitely expect me to use it frequently."

A heavy fog shrouded London on the second night of the vigil outside Lacey's Bookshop. The gray tendrils drifted through the streets like an endless parade of ghosts. In the course of their passage they absorbed what little light was provided by the oil lamps that were mounted at intervals on iron stands. The new gas lights that illuminated Pall Mall and St. James had not yet been installed in this section of town.

Gabriel had no doubt that his decision to allow Phoebe to accompany him and Anthony while they kept their midnight watch was a serious error in judgment. But he had been unable to resist her logic or her unrelenting pleas. His lady was every bit as stubborn as he himself was. It was difficult to deny that she had a right to be present when he closed the trap around Neil Baxter.

At least he had succeeded in crushing her many and varied suggestions to use herself as bait, he

RECKLESS 357

thought. Some of her notions had been disconcertingly creative. But he had put a heavy, booted foot down on every one of them. He was not about to risk her neck to catch the son of a bitch who had caused all this trouble.