by Alex Jane
"Yes, yes," Thaddeus called after his husband as he split off to move toward the kitchen. "After what I went through this morning you could at least take your shirt off while you swing the ax."
Gabriel choked out a laugh. "I swear if I told anyone you spoke like that in private, they would not believe me."
Thaddeus only shrugged. "I'm sure it's hardly a secret. Speaking of…" Opening the small gate, Thaddeus held out his arm to welcome Gabriel through into the kitchen garden. They weaved their way through the beds of alliums and brassicas, past the peas, harps and beans, all buzzing with bees as they hopped drunkenly around the frilly blossoms that promised a good crop. There was a small bench at the far end of the garden in the broken shade of a bed of sunflowers. It was cool when Gabriel dropped into it and waited for Thaddeus to join him and finish his sentence.
"I think I have some idea as to why you're here." Thaddeus sighed out the words as he relaxed back on the bench.
"Father told you?"
"No," Thaddeus said slowly and Gabriel found himself surprised at the conclusion.
"Nathaniel told you?"
"Not told." There was a pause where clearly Thaddeus was hoping Gabriel would come to his own conclusion, but being he was only more confused, Thaddeus filled in the gap for him. "He knew we had some connection, our family tie as well as our friendship, so he came to me to ask what he could do to help."
Gabriel drew away from his cousin. "And this was your solution? To sell me off like some kind of—"
"Don't be ridiculous. Good Lord, you're about as histrionic as my— No. He knows there are elements on your mother's side who are less interested in your pack's well-being than your money. Alpha Hayward was the one, however, who suggested the arrangement. I know it's a little unusual in this day and age but a marriage of convenience makes sense to me. I simply told him I would put up no resistance to him making the proposal, on the assumption that no pressure should be applied to you in making a decision."
"No pressure?" Gabriel snorted. "No, none whatsoever. Except if I don't accept then I'll end up on the street as will the rest of the household."
"It won't come to that," Thaddeus said gently. "You'll always have a place here."
"And what about the others? I know there are precious few of my pack left but would you have a place for them all? Would anyone else in the family? No. We'd be split up and scattered to the wind."
Sighing, Thaddeus rolled his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. He may have muttered something under his breath but when he looked up, he didn't appear angry. "Does this mean you intend to accept his offer?"
Gabriel shifted in his seat, unsure of how to answer for a moment. "I don't know. The idea that either of us should have to marry out of obligation is loathsome. I know we have a duty to do what's best for our pack, but I never thought that would include giving up my chance at happiness. And I hate that he feels compelled to do this out of some sense of…what is it? Penitence? When it will make no difference to what happened." He let out a long breath. "Father says it's better him than a stranger."
"Well, isn't that true?"
Resting back on the bench, Gabriel looked out over the garden, searching for something to sustain him. "But he is a stranger. Maybe we knew him ten years ago, but who the man is now is a mystery to me. I know I am certainly not the same person I was a decade on, none of us are. I have no reason to think he would be as I remember him. In fact, I'm certain he has changed drastically given what happened. How am I to know whether he has grown cruel or-or-or has a beard or—?"
Thaddeus let out a laugh. "That's the worst thing you can think of? Facial hair?" Composing himself, he patted Gabriel on the arm. "I didn't know him then so I'm not the best judge. How about you tell me what you remember of him and I'll give you my impression of the man I know."
It took a moment, looking down at his hands and willing the pain that always flared when reminiscing to not burn too bright this time, for him to decide where to begin.
"Did you ever meet my brother?" Gabriel asked finally.
Thaddeus shook his head. "I never had the pleasure as far as I recall. It's possible, in passing."
Gabriel only nodded at that and went back to looking at his hands. "Reuben and Nathaniel were inseparable practically from the day they met. At least, that's the way Father tells it. For a time, when I was very young, I thought Nathaniel was my brother too, he was such a fixture in the house." Gabriel decided to leave out the part where he'd become very glad of the fact that his brother's best friend was not actually a member of his family as he'd grown older and came to think of him differently.
"He and Reuben were as devoted to each other as I was to Reuben. Nathaniel was never unkind to me but he kept a certain distance, especially as we grew older. I suppose I was just an annoying child to him, being six years his junior, who he only tolerated because Reuben indulged me so.
"I remember him being quieter than my brother, although equally rambunctious, always wrestling and sparring. I simply thought that was how two Alphas communicated even though Mother used to despair of them and all the torn and muddied clothes they managed to produce."
"Well, I can't say whether he's grown out of that entirely," Thaddeus said with a gentle smile, "but he's never attempted to fell me when he's visited here."
"You've seen him, then?" Gabriel was quite surprised.
"Yes. Of course. You have not?"
Gabriel shook his head. "No. After…after the accident, I went with Mother to the hospital. He was—" …weeping like a child. That in itself had been somewhat of a shock, to see the countenance so accustomed to smiling—Gabriel had often wondered if it was possible for Nathaniel to frown—broken into something unrecognizable and heartbreaking to look upon even in his own grief. With Reuben dead and the doctors uncertain how long it would take Nathaniel to recover from the injuries he sustained when their carriage has crashed, the memory was more feeling than fact.
"The bandages covered most of…" Gesturing to his own face, Gabriel cleared his throat. "All he would say was he was sorry, over and over. He wouldn't look at me. Mother held his hand for the longest time. Afterward he just locked himself away and I never saw him again."
"You never visited with his family?"
"No. His sister, Priscilla, was the only other I really knew and she was quickly sent away to school. As far as I know, the rest of his family…" Gabriel shrugged. The scandal, if it could be called one, was well-known. An Alpha that didn't recover from his injuries was rare enough to be thought an aberration and subject to social rejection, if not a little lingering superstition from days past. Already destined to break away from his pack to start his own family, the Haywards had shunned Nathaniel, if not financially, certainly with any familial support. Regardless, it appeared he'd done well enough in business to establish himself as a reclusive but successful man. It no doubt helped somewhat if he had the ear of the Fletcher Alpha.
It probably wasn't entirely the thing to do but curiosity got the better of him. "Is he—?" Gabriel felt his cheeks flush a little. "Is he still—?"
"Disfigured?" Thaddeus offered. "Yes. Although, not so bad as the gossip pages would make out. He has some scarring and his eye is…" For all his bluntness, Thaddeus looked away for a moment, clearly disturbed at the thought. Alphas were not immortal. They might heal faster and more thoroughly than a human—or indeed a Beta—could ever hope for, but they could still be killed and maimed. Gabriel knew that all too well.
"You would have to take that into consideration," Thaddeus said finally. "How his condition would affect your position if you do accept his proposal."
Gabriel couldn't help but huff out a laugh at that. "My position, as you so kindly put it, is precisely nothing as it stands. I'm the only Beta child of an Alpha-less pack. Most of our number have been married off, our fortune dwindles to nothing as my dying father clings on to life, if only out of fear I might be reduced to the poor house—" Clapping a hand over his mouth, Gabriel c
losed his eyes and took a second to push down the building hysteria. "There is little that could possibly put me in a worse position."
"All right." Thaddeus sat back, his voice reasoned and unemotional. "It seems to me, when you speak that way, you have already made up your mind to accept Alpha Hayward's proposal. That the marriage would be best for you, your pack, and I have no doubt the union certainly would help his standing. Admittedly, if he were suggesting a mating then I would have my reservations. But being that he's offering only marriage and nothing else…of course, if you have someone, another suitor who you would prefer, I could speak with your father? Act on your behalf?"
Gabriel wasn't sure if it was confusion or panic that made him laugh. "No," he replied, managing to keep the bitterness out of his voice. "There's no one." He'd be damned if he would admit to himself there had only ever been one man for him, so he sure as hell wasn't going to admit his darkest secret to Thaddeus Fletcher.
They talked further that afternoon—about what it would mean if the Webster pack was absorbed into the Hayward pack, about all the legal provisions Nathaniel had promised his father—and by the time Gabriel was stepping out of the Fletcher's carriage in front of his house, having been given the use of the horses to get home before dark, he was resigned to leaving the place he'd spent the last few years of his life, pledging the rest of it to serve another Alpha.
His father didn't speak when Gabriel handed him the letter of reply from Thaddeus, simply drew the envelope from his hand with grim understanding, his brow furrowing deeply as he read the missive by firelight. When he did rise, letting the blankets swaddling him fall to the ground, Abraham lay a hand on Gabriel's shoulder, squeezing him firmly before retiring to his room for the night, only saying, "You should sleep on it. Give me your final answer in the morning."
There was little to say other than, it's too late, but Gabriel nodded and let his father go.
Come morning, Gabriel wasn't sure he'd slept at all. The night had been spent tossing and turning, the conversation of the day managing to dredge up all manner of memories and reminiscences, even the pleasant ones turning a knife of grief in Gabriel's gut at what they had all lost.
He'd been racked with guilt for a long time when he'd found himself missing Nathaniel almost as much as he missed his brother, grieving for them both in his own way. After the tears came anger and somewhat unbecoming behavior, which managed to distance him from the few friends of his own he had been able to make without Reuben's interference. When the school had threatened to expel him for fighting, his mother had withdrawn him anyway, and he had received his schooling at home from a tutor who had been as unfriendly as he was efficient, isolating him further. As the pack had splintered after his mother's death—few wolves being comfortable in a household with no Alpha—he'd merely perceived his devotion to the remaining pack as doing his duty rather than hiding from the world.
It should have been no surprise then that his wedding—such as it was to be—was being planned as a small event. So small, in fact, that it would be little more than going through the motions.
"Are you sure you don't want to meet him beforehand? I could invite him to dinner? I'm sure—"
"No." Gabriel sighed, leaning over the New York Times—which was laid out on the table—staring at the notice his father had placed. It was small, hidden among the other announcements with not even his full name displayed. He tried not to feel envious of the other engagement notices, with their large triumphant type and "delighted to announce", no doubt with an expectation of a day of celebration and gifts and children to come. His own modest notice might have been better suited to the obituaries.
Gabriel sighed and looked up. "It makes no difference, Father. He and I are to be married regardless of how we like each other. I'm sure he will tolerate me just as he did when I was a child."
"And you?"
"And me, what?"
Abraham eased his old bones out of his seat and walked to Gabriel's side. Reaching down, he closed the paper as if to blot out the reminder of what he had done. "Will you tolerate him as you used to?"
Gabriel flushed violently. He could practically feel the blood rush up from his toes. "I-I'm sure I will manage. Regardless, I am grateful for what he is doing for us. Besides, Alpha Fletcher assures me Nathaniel is pleasant company, if a little dour. Perhaps we might find an accord eventually."
"I hope so," Abraham said quietly. Reaching into his jacket, he pulled an envelope from the inside pocket and held it out for his son.
There was little doubt in Gabriel's mind whom it was from when he saw the sharp, tight handwriting forming his name. "Oh," he said, not sure whether dread or excitement was winning in the battle for his heart. "I might just—I'm going to—" He gestured toward the garden and his father waved him away with a sympathetic smile.
Gabriel didn't hurry to the quiet space at the bottom of the small garden where a bench had been placed under the large Norway maple. He was strangely less than eager to see what was in the envelope. In fact, he spent a fair few minutes turning the packet over in his hands once he was seated before he finally ripped open the old-fashioned seal.
What he found inside was utterly underwhelming after all his worry. The paper was thick and modestly watermarked. The ink was a deep red that looked black at first sight, although it complemented the ivory color of the paper. There was a slight scent to it that made Gabriel want to hold it to his face and breathe deep. He managed to resist only as the words upon it didn't seem to warrant such a celebration.
Mr. Webster,
I have received word from your father that you have accepted my proposal of marriage.
I am satisfied we could come to some agreement in this matter. If you have no objection, might I suggest concluding the business at hand at your earliest possible convenience.
It's my sincere wish that I will be able to cause you the least possible unhappiness in the coming years of matrimony.
I hope this letter finds you well and that you will reply with a satisfactory time and place for the ceremony shortly.
Yours
A. Nathaniel Hayward
Gabriel had to blink in surprise more than once to refocus on the officious words. Of course, it took a moment to realize it was less the shock and more the tears that had welled up that were obscuring his vision.
Swiping them angrily away from his face, he frowned down at the letter again. It was perhaps too much to ask that he might have received some sign of affection or even friendship. There had been a time when he would have given his right arm to have held a message of any kind from this man; to touch a place Nathaniel himself had touched, to catch his scent on the envelope, to see the evidence of his hand on the page and imagine that same devotion on his skin.
If anything was likely to kill his childish notions of romance then it was this letter. It was clear now more than ever that he was entering a business arrangement and nothing more. It might break his heart to do it but better that than the alternative.
Gabriel couldn't bring himself to write back. His father did it for him and within a week, Gabriel found himself trussed up in his best suit, freshly bathed and shaved, jostling in his seat as the carriage was drawn up the gravel drive to the Fletcher house on a breezy Sunday morning—hoping the rough ride wasn't a forewarning of how the rest of his married life would progress.
Nothing about the day felt particularly right. Steel gray clouds scudding by, shuttering off the sky, the wind making the trees lurch violently one moment and then lightly shimmy the next. A more traditional union would have had the affianced spending the night before together, then being sequestered away for the morning to air any last concerns or to back out gracefully, if need be, over a lavish private breakfast. Then, once all the guests were assembled, the happy couple would be hand-fasted—followed by a party with music and dancing—until the union was consummated.
Gabriel's nuptials would be a little different. Thaddeus had graciously offered to host the event a
nd perform the ceremony. Gabriel had closer relatives but none so trusted as his cousin. Besides, it seemed appropriate being that this whole debacle was partly Fletcher's fault to begin with.
The house was strangely quiet when Samuel answered the front door. Shaking both Gabriel and Abraham's hand, he ushered them into the hall. "Tad sent the majority of the household off so we could have some peace," he said, by way of explanation. Leading them toward the back of the house, he paused at the door to the parlor. "He's here. Why don't we give you a minute?" Without allowing Gabriel a chance to react, Samuel opened the door and indicated for Gabriel to go in.
At once, Gabriel's heart leaped from his chest to his throat and he genuinely thought he might die of suffocation on the Persian rug at his feet. Glancing wildly at his father, hoping to find some comfort, Gabriel was sorry to receive only a sympathetic smile and a gentle push to his shoulder. "Go on, son. You have to talk to him sometime."
Somehow, Gabriel found himself in the parlor with the door closing behind him and not enough oxygen in the room to sustain him. Or so he thought. Only, when he looked up, he couldn't help but take a deep breath—and then another—at the sight in front of him.
The last time Gabriel had seen Nathaniel (excluding the time in his hospital bed, shrouded in bandages and pain) he had been a young man of barely twenty-one. There had always been something bewitchingly attractive about him, his dark hair contrasting with his Alpha-blue eyes, his sharp cheek bones and broad shoulders, his soft voice and dazzling smile. At fourteen, Gabriel had been as in love with him as he thought it possible for a person to be.
Before he had stepped into the room, he had been quite prepared to hate the man he was about to marry, but looking at him now, Gabriel was suddenly fourteen again and his heart ached.
Nathaniel wore his hair a little longer, brushed back from his face. His shoulders were wider and his body more muscular as befitted an Alpha. The sharp cheekbones were accentuated by the short dark beard that covered the lower half of his face, perhaps in an effort to detract from the upper half.