by Laura Landon
"Gabriel, are you all right?"
The man they helped out of the wagon tried to stand, but failed. She reached for him as he turned to face her and stopped short. "Ga—"
"Sorry to disappoint, my lady."
"Geoffery?" She tried to recover. "I didn’t... what?..."
He tried to smile but his grin turned to a grimace.
"Take him inside," she ordered when he grabbed the side of the wagon to steady himself.
Two of Jean-Paul’s men helped him into the building and up the stairs. She took note of the blood running down the side of his face and the bruises turning darker by the second.
She followed as far as the doorway, then turned. This couldn’t be happening. Goeffery wasn’t supposed to be here. He wasn’t supposed to know she was here – with Gabe.
Gabe
She cast a quick glance over the area. "Where’s Major Talbot?" she asked Jean-Paul.
"Go inside, my lady. We can’t risk being seen."
She rushed through the door, then up the stairs and stopped. "Where’s Gabriel?"
Jean-Paul hesitated, then answered. "He was detained."
Her heart raced faster. That was a lie. "Where is he?"
"I’m sure he’ll be here—"
"Where!"
Her voice sounded shrill to her ears and filled with a sense of panic she couldn’t hide. Jean-Paul’s hesitation terrified her even more because she knew his first instinct was to lie. In the end he wisely chose otherwise. On a heavy sigh he said the words she’d prayed she wouldn’t hear.
"He didn’t make it."
___
Austin was finally asleep. Lydia tucked the covers around him and stepped away from the bed. She’d cared for him, fed him some broth, and helped Hannah bandage his wounds. She’d done all this to keep herself busy so she didn’t have to concentrate on the fact that Gabriel hadn’t returned with the rest of them, that no one knew what had happened to him.
When Austin finally fell asleep, she went to the next room to check on the Marquess of Culbertson. He was lying on the bed with his left arm strapped tightly to his body.
"How are you feeling?" she asked, pushing a chair closer to the bed. She sat beside him.
"Thankful to be alive."
Every part of his body she could see was bruised with ugly purple and black marks that indicated he’d suffered the same torture as Austin. "Is there anything I can get you?"
"A glass of water, if you wouldn’t mind."
"Of course."
She rose and poured some water into a glass, then helped him drink. She’d done the same for Austin just a few minutes ago.
She remembered the first time she’d lifted a glass to Gabriel’s mouth. A thousand bolts of lightning had spiraled through her. She lifted a glass to Culbertson’s lips and waited for the same explosive reaction. Instead... tending the marquess was much the same as tending her brother.
She lowered Geoffery back to the pillow and sat in the chair at his bedside. She was tired – no, more than tired, she was exhausted. She’d been awake for more than twenty four hours and nearly every one of those hours had been filled with a nervous anxiety that bordered on fear. Now, the fear was so intense she was numb.
"How did you come to be here?"
She started, realizing for the first time that she’d been lost in thought about Gabriel, and Culbertson had caught her at it.
"I came with Major Talbot. He needed a diversion to make it into France safely. I was able to help him."
A frown pulled at Culbertson’s forehead. "What diversion did you offer?"
Her cheeks warmed and she hoped they weren’t as flushed as she feared they might be. "The major and I pretended to be newlyweds arriving in Paris for our honeymoon."
She looked out at the mid-afternoon sky, wondering where Gabriel was. He was such a long way from here and with his leg...
She turned back to face Culbertson’s disapproval.
"Your brother agreed to let you take such a risk?"
"There wasn’t any other choice."
His eyebrows arched. "And you came alone?"
"My maid, Hannah, came with me. As well as Morgan, who acted as Gabe—" She cleared her throat. "As Major Talbot’s manservant."
He studied her. "I’m surprised the major allowed you to come. I would have thought he’d have refused."
"He tried, but Harrison and I gave him no choice. Allowing me to come was the only way to assure he would make it into France."
She noticed the frown on his face and fought a wave of irritation. How dare he question her. He’d been rescued because she’d taken the risk. He and Austin were both alive because Gabriel had risked his life to save them.
She rose from her chair and walked to the window. The sun was high in the sky. It was past noon and there was still no sign of him.
"What happened?" she said. "How did you escape and Major Talbot didn’t?"
He sank back against the pillow. "We made it out of the prison with no problem but the French soldiers arrived before we left the courtyard. The major held them off to give us time to get away."
Lydia’s heart dropped to the pit of her stomach. "Do you think he...got away?"
Culbertson hesitated. "Perhaps. Jean-Paul and his men have gone out again to search for him. Maybe they’ll find him."
She heard the doubt in his voice. Waves of panic crashed inside her head. She had to believe he was alive. "Even if he didn’t get away from them, it doesn’t mean he’s dead. Maybe the French took him captive. Maybe they’re holding him prisoner."
"It’s possible."
"But you don’t think so, do you?"
"I think you must prepare yourself for the worst, my lady. In case the major didn’t escape."
The room shifted beneath her and she reached out to steady herself.
"I know the major is very special to you," Culbertson started to say, but her pointed glare stopped his words.
"What do you mean by that?"
"I mean that before your father died, Major Talbot’s name was linked to yours as a possible marriage candidate. Your feelings for him must have run deep."
"Are you asking if they still do?"
He lowered his head to the pillow and closed his eyes. "No. I think that’s a question better left unasked."
A painful emptiness invaded her body, a dark void that separated her from the man lying on the bed. She didn’t want there to be a chasm between them. He was the man she would someday marry, the man both their fathers had chosen for her. The man Gabriel had given her over to marry.
"Why did you agree to your father’s demand to marry me?" she asked, the words escaping before she could consider the wisdom in her question.
He smiled, not a real smile, but a practiced expression she’d seen him bring up before at a moment’s notice.
"Because, like you, I had no choice in the matter. It seemed terribly important to my father that you would some day be the Duchess of Chisolmwood, and I was at the age when I had to marry. At the time there was no one I cared for any more than you." He turned his head and looked at her. "Do you regret the decision they made for us?"
She hesitated. "I could ask you the same question."
He smiled. This smile was no more real than the last. "But you won’t."
"No, I won’t."
He sighed. "How wise of us both."
Lydia needed to be by herself. She needed to be someplace where she didn’t have to pretend that Gabriel’s absence wasn’t more than she could bear. "I’ll return later. Get some rest." She turned away from the marquess and walked toward the door.
"We don’t know that he’s dead," he said from behind her.
She stopped and nodded her agreement but she didn’t turn to face him. She couldn’t.
"If he’s still alive, Jean-Paul will bring him home."
She nodded again and reached out a trembling hand to open the door. She didn’t cry though. She couldn’t.
She hurt too much to cr
y.
CHAPTER 15
Gabriel leaned on the roughly-hewn stick he’d whittled into a cane and limped down the alley, staying as much in the shadows against the dingy wall as he could. It had been three days since he’d killed the French soldier. Three days that he’d struggled to find enough food and water to survive. At least tonight the moon was hidden behind the clouds and he could venture a little farther to search for something to eat. Tomorrow he’d have to rest, then attempt to make his way back to Jean-Paul’s. Every time he came out of hiding increased his chances of being found.
Until today, his leg hadn’t been strong enough to consider walking far on it. He’d jarred it when he crashed through the boards in the stable.
He wouldn’t complain though. Falling through the rotten wood in the stable floor had saved his life – in more ways than one.
When his leg went through the boards, he discovered a hollow space that led to a cellar he assumed thieves had used at one time.
He’d hidden there for three days, coming out for only a short time each night to scavenge for food and water. Garbage barrels at a nearby tavern yielded a few crusts of bread, and luckily it rained each night so he was able to catch enough water to drink. Tonight, though, he needed to find enough food to build his strength.
He pushed himself from the damp wall and walked down the alley to the nearest tavern door. Inns provided the best offerings of food. He stopped by the wooden barrel near the back door and tipped the lid that teetered atop the mound of discarded food. Then threw himself back against the wall when an alley cat leapt from the garbage with a loud screech.
He waited to be sure the commotion hadn’t aroused anyone, then reached in. He found a half-eaten beef and kidney pie on top of the heap and carefully lifted it out. No wonder the cat put up such a fuss.
Gabriel caught a handful of rainwater before it dripped into a rain barrel and drank greedily, then took another bite of the meat pie. He tried to eat slowly but he hadn’t eaten all day and was so damned hungry he nearly swallowed the first few bites whole. After the third or fourth mouthful he leaned back against the soggy brick building and chewed more slowly.
The meat pie, although not the best he’d ever eaten, wasn’t the worst, and it might be all he found for days. Especially if his leg didn’t allow him to walk far.
He wrapped what was left of his dinner in a semi-clean cloth and tucked it into his pocket, then took another drink of the cool, clean rainwater. When he finished, he leaned on his cane and stepped away from the building.
He’d only taken a few steps before he heard sounds from the other end of the alley. He looked to his right and estimated that there were at least two of them, perhaps three. From the slurred sounds of the song they sang, they were well into their cups.
Gabriel pulled the pistol from his pocket and pressed back into the shadows.
He had one bullet left. That wasn’t enough to defend himself from all of them, but if he eliminated just one, his odds were better. Running wasn’t an option. His leg wouldn’t carry him to the end of the alley before he took a bullet in the back.
He held his breath and felt the familiar calm that always sifted through him seconds before he went on assignment. It was an inner composure that allowed the warrior in him to take over. He leaned his head back against the bricks behind him and closed his eyes while the calm seeped to every part of him.
From their raucous singing, the men didn’t appear to be any of LeBrouche’s soldiers. If they were, perhaps their lack of sobriety would work to his advantage.
He rubbed the throbbing muscles in his leg and readied himself to attack. He wouldn’t fire first, but he was prepared to defend himself at the first hint of trouble.
There were more than three, perhaps as many as five. They were singing—
He listened. That tune. The words. One of the voices...
Gabriel relaxed his tense muscles and smiled.
For a second or two he listened to the familiar drinking song. Then he focused on the familiar voice singing it.
With a sigh, he dropped his pistol back into his pocket and stepped out into the alley to let the men capture him.
___
"We should have left three days ago," Hannah muttered as she placed a tea tray on the desk behind her. "We’d be safe and sound in England by now."
Lydia ignored her maid’s grumbling and kept watch at the window.
"Jeanette is waiting downstairs in the kitchen," Hannah informed her. "She made a huge kettle of soup. She’s convinced that tonight her husband’s search will be successful, but that’s what she said last night, too."
Lydia turned away from the window and sat on the rumpled bed she seldom slept in for more than an hour or two each night. "Perhaps she’s right. It’s only a matter of time until Jean-Paul finds Major Talbot."
"Of course," Hannah said in a tone that indicated she didn’t think any such thing. "But Captain Faraday has sailed for England already and we’ll have to wait another week until he returns to Rouen."
"Then we’ll wait. My brother and Lord Culbertson need the extra week of rest before being moved," she argued. "And Jean-Paul doubted he could get us out of Paris safely. After the escape of the prisoners, the French have doubled their search of the town." She rose to check the window again. "Besides, we’re not leaving without Major Talbot."
Lydia ignored Hannah’s raised eyebrows and lifted the curtain to look out onto the alley.
Waiting was the worst kind of torture. Worrying was the next, and the two went hand in hand. Living through the night Gabriel had left to get Austin proved that there was no greater agony than the paralyzing fear of imagining the worst that could happen.
Her heart thundered in her chest and every muscle in her body trembled. She’d gone through this torture too often in the last few days. She didn’t know how many more times she could endure it or how she’d survive if Jean-Paul didn’t find Gabriel tonight. She wasn’t sure she could relive this nightmare again tomorrow night.
Hannah poured a cup of tea and handed it to her. She took it, but her hands shook so badly she had to set it down on the table beside her. "What time is it, Hannah? How long have they been gone?"
"It’s nearly three in the morning. Why don’t you lie down for awhile? I’ll keep watch at the window."
"I’ll stay here until Jean-Paul returns."
Hannah shook her head, then busied herself by straightening the covers on the bed.
Lydia paced in front of the window, stopping every few seconds to look out onto the alley below. The minutes ticked by with agonizing slowness and she checked several more times before she had to close her burning eyes and rub them.
Please let them find him, she prayed, then opened her eyes. The sight she saw took her breath.
A wagon turned into the alley and slowed beneath her window.
"They’re here," she said, straining to make out how many men returned with Jean-Paul.
With only one small lantern for light, it was too dark to see each man clearly, but there seemed to be an excitement in the way the men moved.
One by one they jumped to the ground and rushed to the back of the wagon to assist someone. Her hand flew to her mouth when she realized that someone was Gabriel.
He moved slowly, his limp worse than ever. But once he stood on the ground he walked by himself, with no help from the men who walked beside him.
She wanted to run down the stairs and throw herself into his arms. She wanted to hold him, press her lips to his, tell him how thankful she was that he was safe.
Instead, she walked across her bedroom and opened the door. A swarm of butterflies fluttered in her stomach as she waited for him to climb the stairs.
There was a commotion downstairs and she swiped away several tears that errantly fell while she kept her gaze riveted on the stairs. It took forever until she heard the thud of his uneven gait as he maneuvered the steps. Her breath caught and held.
The minute she saw him her heart
skipped a beat, then began a rapid thump inside her chest.
His clothes were torn and bloodstained, his body cut and caked with dried blood, and his eyes filled with pain. But he climbed the stairs alone.
He made his way down the long hall toward her, using only a stick to help him. His gaze held hers every step of the way, as if he needed contact with her to continue. As if he were silently telling her how important seeing her was. Her heart raced with increasing anticipation.
Time stood still. She wanted to be alone with him, to touch him, to hold him. To have him hold her. She wanted nothing other than to tell him that she couldn’t continue living if he weren’t in her world. Instead, she stood in her open doorway, unable to move toward him for fear Jean-Paul or Jeannette or Austin or...Geoffery, would realize how much he meant to her.
He walked down the hall and before he reached her room, the door opposite hers opened and the Marquess of Culbertson stepped out. He was weak and needed help to stand, but it seemed important that he speak to Gabriel.
Culbertson looked first to her, then back to Gabriel. The two men stared at each other for a long second before Culbertson spoke. "I owe you a debt." The tone of his voice sounded strangely official, not tinted with aristocratic formality exactly, but containing a military stiffness that took her by surprise.
"I’m glad I could be of service."
"I realize the risk you took. It will not go unnoticed."
"I didn’t take the risks I did because I wanted recognition."
"Of course, you didn’t." Culbertson’s legs seemed to weaken and the servant at his side reached out to steady him. "I seem to be weaker than I thought." He nodded and the servant stepped closer. "We’ll talk later, Major?" he said over his shoulder. "I’m sure there are a few matters you’d like to discuss after you’ve rested."
"There are," Gabriel answered.
"Thank you, again," Culbertson said before the servant took him back into his room.
Lydia watched him. For several long seconds he stared at Culbertson’s closed door, then he slowly turned. His gaze locked with hers.
Her heart thundered against her ribs. She’d been sick with worry over him. Now, the inner strength she’d forced herself to rely on seemed to collapse around her. She took an unsteady step toward him, then stopped.