by Laura Landon
Gabriel dropped his head to his chest. It was suddenly too heavy to hold up. "I can’t."
"If you feel anything for her, you won’t let her go through life thinking you still love her. It would be kinder to sever any ties today."
There was a softness in Harrison’s voice that pulled at Gabriel’s heart. Harrison was right. It would be better if she forgot what they’d shared so she could be happy with someone else.
He sucked in a deep breath that burned in his chest. He would make his break swift and clean. Maybe it would be less painful that way.
Except he knew the pain he felt now would never go away.
"Where is she?"
"Probably in the garden. Down by the lily pond. It’s where she always goes when she’s upset or needs to be by herself."
He walked across the room to the multi-paned glass door that would take him outside. Austin’s voice stopped him before he left.
"Gabe?"
He didn’t turn around. He couldn’t face any of them. He needed all his courage to face Lydia.
"I’m sorry," he heard Austin say as he threw open the door.
Except Gabriel Talbot knew he was the one who would regret this day for the rest of his life.
___
He crossed the terrace, then made his way down the flagstone walk, each step echoing a plea that she would survive the pain he would cause her. He had to be cruel, final. He couldn’t let her think he still loved her or that there was a chance he would come back to her.
Harboring such hope would be unfair to them both.
He took the path to the right of the gazebo and walked a few feet. He saw her ahead of him looking out over the small pond and stopped. Fingers of dread clenched around his heart.
God help him. He couldn’t do this. He loved her too much to lose her. But if they married and she found out their love had ruined her father and brothers, she’d hate him forever. And herself.
He willed his heart to turn to stone - unfeeling, unemotional...as cold as ice. He walked toward her. She turned when she heard him.
"Gabe!"
Her dainty hand flew to her mouth. She ran to him and threw herself in his arms.
He saw the fear on her face and held her, but not close enough to feel her warmth. If he weakened now, he knew a part of him would die when he had to let her go.
"Oh, Gabe. I’ve been so afraid."
"Afraid? Why?"
He pushed her away from him before her body left an imprint that would last a lifetime.
"Didn’t Father tell you? The duke wants me to marry his son, the Marquess of Culbertson! I refused, of course. I told Father I loved you and we were going to marry."
She leaned into him and wrapped her arms around his waist. His flesh burned from her touch. Every protective instinct raced to the forefront. He wanted to take her somewhere far away from here. Someplace where they would never find her. Someplace where he could keep her safe, keep her to himself.
"What are we going to do, Gabe?"
God help him. He wasn’t going to survive this.
He placed his hands against her upper arms and separated her from him. The desperation in her deep blue eyes was nearly his undoing. He forced another layer of ice to form around his heart before he looked at her.
"Did you tell them?" she asked.
"Tell them what?"
"That we love each other. That we want to marry."
She stared at him, her expression darkening with concern. He didn’t want to say what he knew he must. He didn’t want to see the pain he would cause her. But—
"Oh, Liddy," he said, tapping the tip of her nose with his finger. "What a silly goose you are. Surely you realized all along we couldn’t marry. I’m not titled. My future is with the army. I’ll never earn enough to support you."
She stiffened in his arms. "You know the money doesn’t matter. I’ve never cared whether you were rich or titled. We wouldn’t need a great deal. We’d get by on whatever you could provide. And I have Southerby Manor that my maternal grandmother left me. It would be enough."
"No, it wouldn’t. If I married you without your father’s blessing, you’d come with no dowry."
She separated herself from him. "And that matters?"
He laughed. "Of course it matters. Even you have to realize it matters."
She stepped back another step. "Is that why you wanted me? For my dowry?"
"Well, I just naturally thought. . ."
She stumbled again. Her voice broke when she spoke. "No, Gabriel. Don’t do this to me."
The pain in her eyes shot through to his heart.
"Ah, Liddy. Don’t look so shocked."
"You said you loved me. You said you wanted to marry me."
He forced himself to laugh. "A man says many things when he thinks he’s in love. I would have promised you the moon but you know I couldn’t have given it to you."
She shook her head, the shock, the disbelief, the pain evident in her eyes. "Why are you doing this?"
"I’m doing nothing. Only being practical. We need money to live, and you, unfortunately, will come with none."
A vast chasm of silence separated them until she spoke, her voice hesitant, filled with pain. "Did you mean anything you said to me? Even one word? Or was everything a lie?"
"Of course, I meant what I said." The icy shield around his heart cracked. "At least I did when I thought you’d come with a dowry."
She opened her mouth to say something but no words came. He filled in the gap. "I wouldn’t be satisfied living the rest of my life in poverty, Liddy. And neither would you. In time, you’d resent me because I couldn’t provide for you like you’re accustomed. As I’d resent you."
"You know that’s not true."
"But it is. Without money we’d end up hating each other."
She slapped his hands away from her and stumbled back to put more distance between them.
"Who are you?" she asked, the horror on her face plain to see. "You aren’t the Gabriel to whom I gave my heart."
Another layer protecting his heart shattered and fell away.
"You aren’t the man who had no care for riches or the title he’d never have. Nor are you the loving and caring man I would have been content to spend the rest of my life loving. What have you done with him? You aren’t that man."
The final layer surrounding his heart crumbled, exposing his vulnerability. He struggled to protect himself with the thin barrier left around his emotions. "Of course, I am. I’m just more practical now. I’m the same person, only now I’ve had time to realize the obstacles we’d face if your father refused to give you a dowry. Now I realize I could never be content with just your love."
She shook her head. "No, you’re not him. I could never have loved someone as vain and selfish as you."
His heart died inside his chest. "Surely you’re aware of how important money is to someone who has none."
"Get out," she whispered, her voice harsh. "Go away and leave me alone."
"Liddy—"
"Go!"
He stood, unable to move for several seconds.
Finally, he forced his body to turn and his feet to go forward. He walked away from her. But it was only his body he took with him.
He left his broken heart behind because he knew he would never love again.
CHAPTER 2
Crimean peninsula
April 16, 1855
The stench of death permeated the air so that Gabe could hardly breathe. The moans and screams of the injured and dying echoed in his ears. There was no escape from it. Death was all around him, a part of him. Even if he survived this madness, he knew the sights and sounds of the suffering and inhumanity would haunt him for the rest of his life. And the nightmares would stay with him until he drew his last breath.
Major Gabriel Talbot sucked in as deep a breath as his injured body would allow, then prayed to God he wouldn’t die here. Not in this hellhole, fighting a war that had no purpose and would gain nothing for
Britain when it was finished.
Blood dripped steadily from his fingertips and he clutched his hand over the blood-soaked bandage wrapped around his upper arm. Just his damned luck. The bullet was still lodged in his flesh. Now he’d have to let those filthy butchers cut on him to get it out.
Every soldier in the Crimea knew they had a better chance of surviving on the battlefield than in an army hospital. And Gabriel knew the wounds he’d suffered tonight were too severe to keep him from going under the surgeon’s knife.
He dragged in a shuddering breath and fought a pain so intense he could barely stand up under it. The dead Russian general responsible for his injuries lay lifeless at his feet and Gabriel tucked the papers he’d taken from him into a secret pocket in his jacket. Papers that outlined the Russian plan of assault. Papers that contained information that would save thousands of lives and affect the outcome of the war. He had to get the information to General Simpson.
Gabriel pushed himself away from the crumbling wall that surrounded the town of Sebastopol, the Russian stronghold that protected their naval port. From here the Russian army received food, arms, and the replacement troops they needed to rain down destruction on the allied forces. He’d received a coded message that informed him about the Russian general who’d be carrying the secret papers, but he’d been forced to venture far into enemy territory before he had an opportunity to take them from him. Now he was in more danger than he wanted to admit.
He took the first tentative step on his wounded leg and fought the pain that knifed through him. The Russian general had been a far more threatening adversary than he’d looked, and Gabriel suffered the wounds to prove it. He just prayed that neither the sound of the Russian firing his gun nor his dying screams had drawn any attention.
He swiped his hand over the beads of perspiration running down his face, then stumbled into the open. The sounds of enemy shelling echoed in his ears. The screams of the wounded, the moans of the dying - he ignored them all.
Bloody hell, but he wanted this to be over. He wanted to be home, even though he wasn’t quite sure what awaited him there.
Certainly not the wife he’d thought he’d have.
Certainly not the future he’d envisioned.
A picture of Liddy’s sun-kissed feminine beauty appeared, as if conjuring her graceful elegance could somehow give him the strength he needed to survive. Dark, laughing eyes looked up at him, brimming with the vibrancy and life he chose to remember when he thought of her, instead of the deep blue pools spilling tears of hurt and betrayal that were more reminiscent of the way she’d looked the last time he saw her.
It was best if he concentrated on getting back to safety rather than on what he’d left behind in England. That part of his life was lost to him forever.
He took his next step forward and tripped over the lifeless body of another soldier. He waited while white-hot stabs of pain gripped him with an intensity that stole his breath, then he pushed himself to his feet and continued to move.
Every lift of his mud-caked boots was heavier than the last, but finally, he topped the ridge. The British encampment was within view. Soon General Simpson would have the papers in his possession and Gabriel could sleep.
He brushed his hand across his face, wiping away a trickle of blood burning his eye, then forced himself to make his way through the tangle of corpses littering the battlefield. Just a little farther and he could hide himself in the trenches. Just a little farther.
He took another step and stopped short. The thundering of horse’s hooves echoed in his head. He turned. An armed Russian rider raced toward him, his saber drawn.
Before he could move, the rider was on top of him.
Gabriel spun away, but not soon enough.
An unbearable fire knifed through his arm and he looked down to see the sleeve of his jacket separate and the frayed edges turn crimson.
He lifted his rifle, but before he could get off a shot, the rider leveled the barrel of his own gun. Gabe twisted to the side, but knew he would not be fast enough.
A rush of smoke spiraled from the tip of the soldier’s rifle and Gabriel’s chest exploded in a fiery inferno that took him to his knees. The last sight that flashed before him was the broad-shouldered man in an enemy’s uniform, bearing down on him, his sword drawn and the confident look of victory in his eyes.
Gabriel felt the slash of the enemy’s rapier cut his flesh from his shoulder to his waist and his world went black around him. The papers that could save thousands of lives were still tucked inside a hidden pocket of his jacket.
___
"Gabe! Gabe!!"
Captain Austin Landwell stumbled amidst the mass of human carnage in search of his friend and fellow officer. Every time he saw a body that looked to be over six feet with a large frame and hair as dark as midnight, his heart lurched in his chest. Gabe was out here somewhere. Austin could feel it. They’d gone through so much together that sometimes Austin felt as though they shared each other’s pain. And the pain he felt right now was so intense he swore it was his own.
The gray dawn was lightening the sky, the sun beginning its ascent. A dusky haze hung over the battle-scared earth, the dead and dying still lying where they’d fallen. Austin walked from corpse to corpse, turning the bodies over, praying the face would not bear Gabe’s familiar features.
Sixty thousand Russian troops had launched the massive attack, the losses staggering on both sides. Upwards of five thousand Russian soldiers were dead, along with hundreds of French and Sardinians. The British fared better this time, most of their troops having not been in the thick of the battle. But Austin knew Gabe was out there - knew he was among the wounded.
He would not think he was dead. He couldn’t be. Austin pushed forward, wending his way through the inert bodies.
Then he saw him.
He knew before he reached the unconscious form that it was Gabe. He raced over the rough, uneven terrain and came to a blinding halt. Even though he was lying face down on the cold, hard ground, Austin didn’t doubt it was his friend.
He looked down at Gabe’s twisted, mangled arms and legs and felt the air leave his body. "Don’t let him be dead," he whispered in prayer, dropping to his knees at his friend’s side. "Please, God, don’t let him be dead."
Gabe didn’t move but lay still as death, his left hand still clutching his sword, his blood turning the earth an unholy black. Austin’s heart thundered in his chest as he reached out a trembling hand and touched Gabe’s blood-stiffened jacket.
"It’s me, Gabe. I’m here. I’ve come to take you back."
Ever so gently, he turned Gabe over, easing him onto his back. Blood pulsed from a gaping hole in the upper right side of his chest. Austin swallowed hard, his breaths coming in harsh gasps. "Oh, damn, Gabe," he whispered, staring into Gabe’s ashen, gray face. "Oh, bloody hell. What have they done to you?"
Austin swiped the back of his hand across his cheeks to wipe the salty wetness there away, then leaned down, praying he’d hear Gabe’s heart beating.
Nothing.
He held his hand over Gabe’s nose, praying he’d feel air.
Nothing.
He placed his palm over his mouth.
Perhaps. He couldn’t tell for sure. But Gabe was still warm.
He placed his palm to Gabe’s cheek, then lifted his hand. It was limp. Surely that was a good sign. Surely that meant something.
"Stay with me, Gabe. Don’t you dare die."
He knew he had to hurry. Knew he had to get him back to camp. He ripped open Gabe’s jacket and shirt and stared at the torn flesh of his chest. Austin’s stomach revolted and he turned his head, then forced himself to concentrate on taking care of his friend. He ran to the nearest dead soldier and removed his shirt. The material tore easily, most of the uniforms little more than rags.
"I’m going to get you back to England, Gabe. The doctors will take good care of you there. You’ll be fine."
Austin worked as quickly and care
fully as he could, but the minute he pressed the cloth against the massive wound, Gabe threw his arms out and fought him.
"Gabe. Lie still. You’re hurt."
Gabe’s eyelids fluttered. "Austin?"
"I’m right here. I’m going to get you help."
"No. . ."
"You are not giving up. I won’t let you. We promised each other," Austin said, binding Gabe’s wounds as best he could. "We took an oath when we landed in this hellhole that we’d leave together. And I’m holding you to it. We’re going home together."
Gabe shook his head but Austin ignored him. He couldn’t think of leaving his friend here. He had to get him home. Back to England. He concentrated on nothing else until Gabe’s fingers clamped around his wrist, bringing his frantic movements to a halt.
"In my. . .pocket. Papers."
"You can give them to me later." Austin worked harder to stop the bleeding in Gabe’s chest. Nothing he did was helping. He looked around. Where the hell were the soldiers who combed the fields after a battle to pick up the wounded?
"Now. . ." Gabe whispered on a moan. "Take them. Important."
Austin reached into the secret pocket of Gabe’s jacket and pulled out the papers, then stuffed them into his own pocket.
"I’ll take care of them," he whispered, pressing the cloth harder against Gabe’s chest. "But you stay with me. Don’t you dare die on me, Major, or I’ll haunt you to the ends of hell and back." Austin watched more color drain from Gabe’s face and heard his breathing become more labored.
"Too. . .late," he whispered, then closed his eyes and sank back into unconsciousness.
Austin lifted his gaze, frantic to find someone to help.
In the distance he saw two soldiers bearing a stretcher and he called out to them. They both hurried forward, the looks on their faces expectant, as if they were relieved to finally find a soldier who was still alive. Heaven only knew they’d seen enough dead ones.
"Help me get him back to camp," Austin said, prying the sword out of Gabe’s hand.
The two placed the stretcher beside Gabe’s body and one of the two men leaned over to look at him. "Is that Major Talbot?" one soldier asked.