Love's Fortress

by Samantha Kane

  “Why would I change my mind?” Gideon asked, genuinely perplexed.

  Charles looked as if Gideon had slapped him across the face. “After last night you can ask me that?”

  Gideon blushed, which Sarah would have found endearing under different circumstances. “Last night was…too long in coming,” Gideon said awkwardly. “It had nothing to do with present circumstances.” His look turned guarded. “Are you telling me it was all about making me change my mind?”

  “No,” Charles ground out angrily. “You know it wasn’t. I wasn’t lying last night. I’ve wanted to fuck you for six long years.”

  Sarah looked around frantically and breathed a sigh of relief when she saw that no one was near enough to hear them. Neither Gideon nor Charles was paying any attention to their surroundings.

  “But as usual, you thought a good fuck would solve all my problems, is that right?” Gideon grabbed his crutches and stood up and Charles rose from his chair to face him.

  “Please,” Sarah implored, surprised by how quickly the fight had escalated. Their emotions had been running so high the last few days. Sarah was exhausted, both physically and emotionally. “Sit down, both of you, and let’s discuss this civilly.”

  “I think I could fuck you morning, noon and night,” Charles answered Gideon, ignoring Sarah, “and it wouldn’t solve all your problems.”

  “Please,” Sarah said again more vehemently. She put a hand to her head. They were giving her a headache.

  Charles gestured at her. “Do you see what you’re doing to Sarah?”

  “What I’m doing to Sarah?” Gideon said incredulously. “You began this argument, Charles, not I.”

  “No,” Charles disagreed, pointing a finger at Gideon accusingly, “you started it. You started it with your asinine ideas about this London doctor.”

  “You have decided they are asinine and that’s that?” Gideon barked. “Let me reiterate what I have said a thousand times, Charles. You are not in charge of me, my past, my decisions or my future.”

  Charles paled. “And that’s that?” he asked sharply. “Whatever Gideon wants, damn the consequences to Charles or Sarah? Let them accept your decisions or not, you don’t care? It’s all about Gideon?”

  “Of course not,” Gideon snapped back. “I told you yesterday that I made this decision for all of us. If you would stop your theatrics you would see that this could only be good for us. You are oversimplifying the situation.”

  Charles crossed his arms mulishly. “Well, I’m just a simple farm boy, Gideon. It’s what I do, oversimplify. I see you trying to commit suicide for some reason I cannot comprehend, breaking Sarah’s heart and ignoring my pleas. What part am I missing?”

  “Charles, please,” Sarah whispered. There wasn’t much conviction in it. Unlike Charles she had known that last night would not change Gideon’s plans. She’d hoped to try a more subtle approach over the next few days, but Charles’ frontal assault today had thrown up Gideon’s defenses and she despaired of breaching them now. He would dig in and hold his ground on the issue.

  “I am doing this for you,” Gideon replied stoically. “You may not see it yet, but in the end you will understand.”

  “Make me understand it now,” Charles demanded. “Don’t ask me to watch you kill yourself if you can’t explain why to me.”

  “When the scars are gone, Charles, you’ll be able to look at me without remembering.”

  Sarah froze and so did Charles. She hadn’t understood, then, either. This was for Charles. Oh, Gideon, she thought sadly. Did he really think Charles needed or wanted this from him? Did he really think this dangerous path would lead to a future with no past?

  “If you are doing this for me, then I should have the right to put a stop to it.” Charles spoke with barely controlled anger. “Are you the same man I fucked last night? You can’t be. If you were, you would remember that I didn’t give a damn about the scars or the past. All I cared about was fucking you, Gideon. Being inside you, part of you, holding you. Sharing you with the woman we both love. Making a future together. Is that all you were thinking about last night? Your bloody damn scars?”

  “You were behind me.” Gideon spoke bitterly.

  It took Charles a moment to comprehend what he meant. “It was a hell of lot easier to fuck you that way when you were fucking Sarah!” Charles exclaimed in exasperation. “If you can think of a better way then please share it with me.”

  “Could we please stop talking about fucking at the top of our voices?” Sarah asked shrilly.

  “Sarah,” Charles said, clenching his teeth as he fought to keep his voice down, “you were facing Gideon. Were you thinking about his scars while we fucked?”

  “We’ve been over this,” Gideon barked, moving to stand at the railing, turning his back to them. “Sarah has no memories of me before.”

  “Am I supposed to feel guilty that I do?” Charles cried out. “Apologize because I knew you before this? Apologize again for saving your life?”

  “I am repaying that debt,” Gideon said coolly, staring out at the pasture.

  Charles growled and in a fit of frustrated temper swept his arm out and knocked the tea service from the table. The teacups shattered on the floor and Sarah gasped. Gideon’s head snapped around at the crash. “What are you doing?” he demanded.

  “You wish to destroy everything we have here? Well, then, I will help you.” Charles stalked over to the steps. “Better yet, I’ll let you do it all on your own, you’re doing such a good job of it. I’m leaving. I refuse to stay here and watch you make the biggest mistake of your life. Of all our lives.” He turned and leapt down the stairs, walking briskly toward the house.

  When he was gone silence descended on the gazebo.

  “Are you going to leave me too?” Gideon asked calmly.

  Sarah raised a shaking hand and smoothed her hair over her aching head. Her eyes stung with unshed tears. “No.” She looked at Gideon, refusing to hide her distress just to make him feel better. “I’ll stay. I’ll stay because I love you and because you need me, whether you admit it or not. And I’ll stay because I agree with Charles. I think this is a mistake. But unlike Charles I understand why you are doing it and that only you can stop this madness.”

  “Madness?” Gideon inquired in a politely bored tone.

  Sarah stood up. “Yes, madness. For surely it is madness to risk what we have.” She couldn’t stop herself from making one last effort. “So few people have this, Gideon. This house is filled with love, and you are at the center of it. If you would only forgive yourself, you would see that.”

  “It is not forgiveness I seek,” Gideon said in genuine surprise.

  “Isn’t it?” Sarah replied as she walked gingerly toward the steps, avoiding the smashed china. She turned and faced him at the top step. “Charles does not blame you, Gideon. He does not blame himself anymore either. He accepted your forgiveness. Can you not accept his?”

  “I—”

  Sarah held up a hand and he stopped obediently. “No, no more. My head aches and my heart is breaking. Charles is right.” She turned with a sigh and took the steps down. She saw a groom bringing Charles’ mount from the stables and her heart constricted. If Gideon had finally driven Charles away, could she forgive him? Her uncertainty over the answer to that question was more dreadful than any harsh words spoken this morning.

  ———

  “Madam.” Dr. Jones bowed deeply to her with an ingratiating smile. She hated him already and he’d just walked in the door.

  “Dr. Jones.” She held out hand and he grasped her fingertips weakly. Ugh, he was insipid. A short, rotund little man with beady eyes and thinning gray hair. If he could remove disfiguring birthmarks and scars, why couldn’t he stop his own hair loss? Doctor, heal thyself, Sarah thought snidely.

  “Come in, doctor,” Gideon asked politely from the drawing room door. He turned and moved on his crutches over to the settee and Sarah watched Dr. Jones follow his progress. She didn
’t like the calculating gleam in his eye as he stared at Gideon.

  Dr. Jones took a seat with a great deal of pomp as he fluffed out his coattails before sitting. To add insult to injury he was a popinjay. He wore a bright yellow coat with a glaring red waistcoat and a neckcloth that combined the two. Really, he was an eyesore from head to toe.

  Sarah sighed at her thoughts. She didn’t recall being such a mean-spirited woman before. But Dr. Jones seemed to bring out the worst in her. At least she hadn’t voiced her feelings aloud. She looked at Gideon and winced. Apparently she didn’t have to. From the censorious look on his face he knew exactly what she was thinking.

  “When shall we begin the treatment?” Gideon asked immediately.

  The doctor seemed surprised at Gideon’s forthright manner but recovered quickly. “Immediately if that is your wish. So I shall be treating both of you? You did not make that clear in your letters.” His smile was unctuous and made Sarah want to wash her hands.

  “No,” she replied. She gave the doctor a look she had learned from Gideon and he gulped like a fish out of water. She raised her eyebrow in a superior way. “I am not in need of your treatment.” She paused for effect. “Doctor.” Scorn dripped from her tone.

  “Sarah.” Gideon’s voice had a warning in it. She disregarded it. She knew he would do nothing to her no matter how she treated this so-called doctor.

  “You mustn’t disparage those who try to better their situation through the miracles of modern medicine, Mrs. North,” Dr. Jones said, sounding alarmingly like her father when he was preparing to give a sermon. “Mr. North has been burdened by the scars of his heroic war service. It is our Christian duty to help him be free of their taint.”

  Sarah was so outraged at his comments she had no response for a moment. She looked at Gideon in consternation. Surely he wasn’t going to let this idiot masquerading as a man of medicine touch him? Gideon sat there with a pained expression on his face, his eyes closed. She turned back to Dr. Jones, who looked smug, as if he’d put her in her place.

  “Yes,” she agreed with an exaggerated nod of her head. “Gideon is shockingly reticent about his feelings.” She clasped her hands together and brought them to her chest. “Locked inside his maimed and scarred body.” She fluttered her eyelashes as if overwhelmed and heaved a great, tremulous sigh.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Siddons, that will be quite enough,” Gideon said drily.

  There was slow clapping from the drawing room doorway and Sarah turned to see a stranger standing there grinning broadly while he showed his appreciation of her performance. He looked exhausted and rumpled, as if he’d traveled all night. “Perhaps not the caliber of Mrs. Siddons, whom I had the honor of seeing on the stage in Bath, but a fine performance just the same.”

  Gideon had stiffened across from her and Dr. Jones was frowning darkly. She cast an inquiring glance at Anders who stood holding the door open. “Dr. Peters to see you, Mr. North,” Anders said blandly. The name was familiar but Sarah couldn’t place it.

  Gideon must have sensed her confusion. “Let me introduce you to Dr. Thomas Peters, Sarah. The man who saved my life at Badajoz.”

  “I was not aware you were under the care of another physician, Mr. North,” Dr. Jones said disapprovingly.

  Dr. Peters sauntered into the room, gazing around with avid curiosity. Sarah was not immune from his scrutiny. Indeed, she seemed to receive the bulk of it. “Under my care?” he said in astonishment. “Why, doctor, he owes me his life! The ancient Chinese believe that he now belongs to me.”

  “God bless his Britannic Majesty George,” Gideon intoned, “and my supreme luck to be his subject and not an ancient Chinaman.”

  Dr. Peters laughed as he came to a stop in front of Sarah. He bowed low before her. “Mrs. North, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” He stood up and took a step back, perusing her with a puzzled look on his face. “From Borden’s drunken description I expected you to reside permanently atop a marble pedestal, a golden halo floating above your head.”

  Sarah’s laughter burst out in unabashed glee. “You’ve seen him, then?” she asked eagerly. “Is he all right?”

  For two days she had worried, waiting for some word from Charles. He had stormed off with his satchel not long after he and Gideon had their argument in the gazebo. He’d left with a passionate goodbye for Sarah and a terse “I’m going to London.”

  “Compared to what?” Dr. Peters answered noncommittally.

  “I see,” Gideon drawled as he leaned back in his chair. “Charles has sent reinforcements.”

  “Hardly,” Dr. Peters grunted as he fell onto the other end of the settee where Sarah sat and laid his head against the back with a sigh. He really was exhausted. “If I am the cavalry come to save the day, you really are a lost cause, North.” He opened one eye and looked at Sarah. “I apologize, ma’am. But Borden poured me into a carriage and I’ve been jostled nonstop from London. I am tired, thirsty, dusty and weary beyond comprehension. The last before I even entered the carriage, truth be told. I’m afraid my manners were left on the roadside.”

  Sarah turned to Anders. “Send us some tea, Anders, and some food for Dr. Peters.” Anders nodded and closed the door.

  Dr. Jones frowned harder as the implications of refreshments being ordered for Dr. Peters and not for him sank in. He stood abruptly. “I shall leave you to greet your old friend properly, Mr. North,” he said with a slight bow. “If you would have someone show me to my room?”

  Sarah did not need him to ask twice. Before Gideon could answer she rang for a footman.

  After Dr. Jones had made his irritated exit, Dr. Peters turned to her. “Again, excuse my rudeness, Mrs. North, but may I speak to your husband alone?”

  Sarah hastily rose. “Of course, Dr. Peters. I hope you will join us for dinner? And of course you shall stay with us.”

  “You are indeed the angel Borden made you out to be,” he said sincerely.

  Sarah smiled at him. “Nonsense,” she scoffed. “How absolutely boring that would be.”

  The doctor laughed and she gave Gideon a saucy grin over her shoulder. His return smile was genuine if reluctant. “Be nice,” she admonished him before she closed the door.

  “I am not an angel either,” he muttered, “thanks to Dr. Peters.”

  She was still chuckling at Dr. Peters’ fervent “Truer words were never spoken” as she walked away.

  ———

  Gideon wasn’t sure whether to be angry or amused. Charles really had been desperate to send Peters. He was uneasy, however, at the fact that Charles had not returned.

  “What in the bloody hell do you think you’re doing, North?” Peters asked in annoyance. “I was unaware that along with your other infirmities you had become feeble in the head.”

  “You are still as droll as you were before, I see,” Gideon told him. “And I am hardly infirm.”

  Peters glared at him. “If Borden brandishes another sharp object at me in order to force me to save your life one more time, I will not be responsible for the consequences.”

  “Dare I hope the consequences will be your failure to appear?”

  “It won’t work.”

  Gideon sighed. He’d attribute Peters’ haphazard conversational style to exhaustion, but the fact was the doctor always talked like this. One minute he was talking about one topic, and the next he’d moved on to another. And he was always starting his conversations in the middle, as if he’d been carrying on the conversation in his head and suddenly decided to make it public. “I assume you are talking about Dr. Jones’ treatment?”

  “No, Faraday’s experiments with electrical currents. Of course I mean Jones’ treatment.” Peters sounded disgusted with him, which was not unexpected. Peters had always sounded disgusted with him.

  Gideon sighed again. He had always done that in response to Peters’ disgust too. How odd to fall back onto old habits. “I know it won’t work. One look at him and I could see he was not to be trusted.” Pet
ers rubbed his hands over his face and then gave Gideon a sympathetic look. It shocked Gideon and increased his unease. “What?”

  “Even if Jones’ treatment managed to get rid of the scars, it wouldn’t erase the past, Gideon. I know.” He laughed bitterly. “Trust me, I know. There is no erasing the past no matter how we try.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Gideon said nothing. He just clenched his jaw and refused to look at Peters. The doctor fell back wearily in his seat again. There was a knock on the door and they both sat silently as Anders came in with the tea tray and poured them each a cup. He left and it took a moment for Peters to resume their conversation.

  “How many men do you think I saved in the war, Gideon?” he asked quietly.

  Gideon shot him a wary look. “I don’t know. A great many I would think.”

  Peters was nodding. “Yes, a great many.” He sat slumped on the settee, staring at his hands as he rubbed one thumb repeatedly with the other. It was clearly an unconscious gesture. “And how many do you think I failed to save?”

  Gideon was uncomfortable with the turn in the conversation. “Just as many.”

  Peters was still nodding. “At least, yes.” Then he looked at Gideon and Gideon noticed how bloodshot his eyes were, and how bleak. “I remember them all, Gideon. Each and every one.” He stood, his weariness palpable, so heavy that Gideon began to feel it himself. He walked over to the window and stared down at the paddock where the grooms were walking some of the newer horses yet to be trained. They pulled at the leads, pawing the ground. “I’ve stared at the bottom of too many empty bottles since the war. And not one of them helped me forget.”

  “They were not your responsibility, Peters,” Gideon told him gruffly. “Just as I was not and am not now.”