Free Sins of a Virgin by Anna Randol Page A

room. Dealing with brutes like this was familiar territory.
    A balding, heavy-jowled man stood inside. Dr. Horace Webster. “I thought we had discussed your problem before, Webster.”
    Gabriel had investigated him seven years ago, not because he thought his sister would have fallen for the corpulent mass, but because his reputation for violence had made it impossible for Gabriel to ignore him. Unfortunately, the doctor had been in Bath at the time of Susan’s death. Four separate sources had confirmed it.
    Webster stood in his shirtsleeves, no doubt to allow him a better range of movement to swing the riding crop in his hand. “Just enjoying a bit of sport, Huntford.”
    “I don’t think the lady would agree.”
    “That woman is a whore who I intended to pay. Now you’ve robbed us both of our satisfaction.”
    “Then why isn’t she here complaining?”
    Webster cracked his knuckles. “Probably embarrassed she enjoyed it so much. Perhaps I should finish up with that pretty thing you brought.”
    Gabriel slammed Webster against the wall, his forearm pressed into the spongy column of his throat. Fury corded the muscles of his arm but he forced himself to stop an inch before he crushed the man’s windpipe. “You’re the only one who receives any enjoyment. But that’s what gets you off, isn’t it? The pain? Their terror?”
    Webster’s throat twitched under Gabriel’s arm as he struggled to breathe. His words emerged in a hoarse rasp. “It ain’t a crime for a man to show his woman a little discipline.”
    “She’s not your woman unless you have marriage lines to show me. Your discipline’s a felony.”
    “To have a felony, you need to have a crime.” Webster wrenched Gabriel’s arm from his neck and shoved him back. Gabriel crouched, preparing for the doctor to charge. Waiting for it. Anticipating it. The doctor outweighed him by a good five stone and was no stranger to violence, but he wasn’t accustomed to a target that could fight back. And Gabriel intended to fight back hard.
    The doctor’s chapped fists balled at his sides, but then unfolded to rub his neck. A mocking smile stretched his face. “It wasn’t a crime. Ask her. I bet she won’t say a thing against me.”
    Webster was right. His victims were always too afraid to stand against him, and without the victim to prosecute the crime, Gabriel was powerless.
    “Without her complaint you can’t charge me with anything.”
    Gabriel’s brows lowered, revulsion warring with his anger. “Except being a purulent cyst of a man.”
    Webster growled.
    “Or having the breeding of horse manure.” Gabriel tensed, hoping the man would take a swing at him. He couldn’t arrest him, but at least he could flatten the man’s ugly nose.
    Unfortunately, Webster stormed to the door, spitting at Gabriel’s feet as he passed. “Bastard.”
    “Indeed. Now leave.”
    Gabriel followed the doctor into the corridor. If the man even looked in Madeline’s direction, Gabriel would shoot him in the back.
    But Madeline was nowhere to be seen as Webster lumbered away.
    Gabriel peered around with a frown. Had she returned to the ball? After a brief search, he found her sitting on a chair in the corridor a few passageways down. Her arms were tightly folded across her chest and her head was bowed.
    “Madeline, I’m sorry if he frightened you. He’s gone now.”
    Her head jerked up. “Frightened? No. If I had stayed I would have cut off his ballocks. And I didn’t want to stain my dress.”
    Gabriel would have snorted in agreement but her eyes held no humor.
    “Did you at least hit him a few times?”
    The bloodthirsty wench. “No. He wouldn’t take the bait. I did call him a purulent cyst.”
    “Purulent?” A glimmer of a smile tilted the corners of her mouth.
    “It seemed apt.”
    “Perfectly. Well, we’d best return swiftly to the ballroom.”
    Gabriel couldn’t suppress a grimace.
    “As your reward for being a white knight, I’ll say my good-byes