“I killed Lord Aston because he nearly killed one of the girls.”
Crecy let out a breath and smiled in the darkness, but she said nothing, hoping he would say more without her forcing the words from him.
“I didn’t know at first, they contacted the law, but of course no one was interested in helping a woman like that.” The anger in his voice was obvious and she moved closer to him, holding his hand within both of hers. “He beat her, oh, God, so badly, and then … he cut her face. She’d been beautiful before, but she knew she couldn’t work after that. The bastard had stopped short of killing her, but taken her ability to support herself. So I killed him.”
“Good.”
Gabriel gave a laugh, but it sounded almost as though he wanted to cry.
“You’re madder than I am,” he said, his voice rough as he covered his eyes with his free hand.
“In the first place, you are not mad, Gabriel,” she said, staring up at him and willing him to believe her. “You have a beautiful soul.” She ignored the sound of ridicule he made to that comment and pressed on. “You do, but you’re damaged, too, and in everything you do, you are always fighting your past. But you win out so often, my love. If only you could see that.”
Crecy wished the moonlight was stronger so that she could see his face clearly, but he would not look at her. She tugged at his hand, pulling him back to the bench and sitting herself in his lap this time. Leaning into him, she placed his large hand against the fullness of her stomach and covered it with her own. “Someone who could not protect themselves was badly hurt and you couldn’t bear it. So you took action. That is not the work of a bad man, but a compassionate one.”
“And you don’t care that your child’s father is a whoremonger?” The words were crude and designed to shock her, and Crecy sighed.
“When was the last time you visited them?”
“Just before Christmas,” he said, sounding satisfied in the fact that it had been after they’d met.
“And did you … did you take anyone to bed while you were there?”
She saw his jaw stiffen, even in the dim light, and knew her suspicion had been correct.
“Not that time,” he admitted, but implying there had been plenty of other times.
“When was the last time?” she pressed, needing him to see she didn’t care. It was now that mattered, not then.
He let out a frustrated sigh and she knew she’d won. Whenever it had been, it was before she arrived. Long before, if she was any judge.
“Why own a place like that, anyway?” she asked, not really expecting an answer and not in any way judging him, simply curious. That was it, of course. A place where no one judged him. For surely, if there was a place where the most base of human nature could be found … it was there. “They were kind to you,” she guessed, and Gabriel dropped his head forward, resting it against her, his big hand still splayed over her stomach.
“How do you do that?” he asked, sounding raw and unhappy and afraid. “It’s like you get inside my head, and believe me, that is somewhere you do not want to be.”
Crecy stroked his hair, leaning her head upon his.
“There’s nothing in there that frightens me, Gabriel.”
“Oh, there is,” he said, a dark threat lacing through his words. “Believe me, Crecy, if you knew …”
She raised her head and looked at him, putting her finger to his lips before he could say more. “I do know.”
“You can’t!”
He was tense and angry again, all at once, and he began to withdraw his hand from her stomach. Crecy grabbed his wrist, holding on tight.
“Your father wants you to return me to Edward once the child is born, so that he is forced to raise your bastard. Isn’t that it, Gabriel?”
He sucked in a breath and looked away from her, making a choked sound.
“But here’s the thing, my love,” she said, her voice soft. “I know you, and I know that it’s killing you. You don’t want to do it.” Crecy watched as the emotions chased over his face, revulsion and self-loathing, guilt and sorrow, they were all there.
“Why don’t you hate me,” he demanded, and she could see the glitter of anguish in his eyes as the words tumbled out, harsh and desperate in the darkness. “Can’t you see how vile he is? He’s in me, Crecy. He is me. He’s in my head and under my skin. Sometimes I think I can even see his face behind mine in the mirror.”
“Hush, love, hush,” she said, feeling heartbroken by his agony. “It’s all right.” She held him close, rocking him like a child even though he was stiff and angry and unbending, refusing to allow himself to grieve. “Tell me about that night,” she said, realising that if she was ever to truly understand him, she needed to know the horror of it, needed to hear exactly what had happened.
“I told you already,” he said and she heard a weary note to his voice now. He would retreat into himself and lock himself away with his compulsions unless she could get him to talk.
“You told me about finding your mother,” she said gently. “You said that you’d never seen so much blood.” He flinched, and she leaned her head against his once more, holding him closer against her. “You said your father had beaten her, and then gone back to confront Winterbourne. When he returned home, she was dead.”
He nodded, but said nothing.
“What happened then, Gabriel?” She kept the words soft but firm, he would tell her, he had to.
He drew in a breath, but it was a long moment before he spoke again.
“His grief was … Shakespearean,” he said with a snort of disgust. “I think he’d have done well on the stage. I always felt he was acting, always acting, always lying, professing how much he loved her … ‘I only get so angry because I love you so deeply and you hurt me so much’.” He shook his head. “He didn’t know the meaning of the word. He’d punish her for simply speaking, for expressing an opinion; good God, if she disagreed with him, there’d be hell to pay.”
Crecy waited as he gathered his thoughts, feeling as though she was bleeding inside for the pain he was in, wishing she could take it from him.
“He wept and screamed and lost his mind for … I don’t know, a long time,” he said at last, and she could hear the tension in his voice now as he tried to keep himself calm. “His shirt was soaked in her blood. I remember that. I remember thinking how strange that Father was wearing a red shirt, and then realising it was her blood.” He swallowed and she clung to him, only too able to imagine the horror of it. “He turned on me, then. He said it was my fault. They were happy before I was born, it was all my fault. He should have drowned me, thrown me in the lake before I had the chance to come between them.”
Crecy sobbed, and Gabriel put both arms around her now, pulling her against him, covering her stomach with his body and his arms, as if protecting the child within from the monstrous words. She held her tears back as best she could, knowing he would stop if she became too distressed.
“He said Mother’s death was on my conscience, and his would be, too, because he had to follow her. He could not live without his love. The only way that I could make amends was to destroy the Greyston line.” He looked up at her then, his eyes full of tears and confusion. “I was ten, Crecy. I didn’t know how to do what he wanted and ... and I said so.” His voice broke, and Crecy could do nothing but hold him, stroking his hair and whispering that she loved him. “He went downstairs in a rage, and I thought perhaps he’d changed his mind, but when he came back, he had a pistol.” Gabriel sucked in a breath and she could feel his big shoulders trembling now. “He held it to my head. He said that I had to swear, upon my life, that I would destroy Edward’s father and everyone that followed, or he’d shoot me before he killed himself.”
“Oh, my God.” Of all the things that Crecy had imagined, she had never realised how very black it was. That Gabriel had survived at all, let alone become a man capable of such love and compassion, was nothing short of miraculous. “Oh, my love, I’m so sorr
y. I’m so desperately sorry.”
“I did it,” he said, the words forced out now, though his voice shook with emotion. “I swore that I would do it, and he said that he would haunt me until the day I succeeded, that I would never be free of him unless I kept my word.” He swallowed, then, hauling in a breath, the next words halting and so vile that he clearly didn’t want to say them aloud. “He … he was standing right in front of me, pointing the gun in my face, pressing the barrel against my forehead, and then … and then he shot himself instead.”
Crecy buried her face in his hair, rocking both of them now, weeping for the poor, frightened boy and all the horror he had experienced. They stayed like that for a long time, until Gabriel had composed himself a little.
“He won’t let me be, Crecy. He’ll never let me be.” The words broke her heart completely as she heard the exhaustion behind them, the defeat. He was so tired of fighting.
Crecy sucked in a deep breath and took his head in her hands, forcing him to look up at her.
“You just listen to me, Gabriel Greyston. I’m not afraid of your wretched father, and I won’t let him hurt you anymore. We are going to get rid of him. You and me, one way or another. Do you hear me, you bastard?” she screamed, raising her voice to the skies, knowing it was ridiculous, but shouting into the darkness all the same. “I won’t let you have him. He’s mine now, and I’ll fight you until you’re burning in hell where you belong!”
Gabriel gave a startled laugh, staring at her with wonder, and they stayed there until the dawn came up, safe in each other’s arms.
Chapter 29
“Wherein a surprise and a return to England.”
If Crecy had hoped that the events of that night would mark a turning point, she was sorely disappointed. On the one hand, Gabriel was changed. When they were together, he was more attentive and loving than he had ever been, more demonstrably affectionate than ever before, as though he had given up fighting his feelings and accepted them. Though he refused to divert from the blasted doctor’s instructions - much to Crecy’s frustration - their lovemaking was a joy and a time where she knew they were both as happy as two people had any right to be.
Outside of this, however, there were times when she could feel him withdrawing into himself. With increasingly frequency, he seemed to be lost in the dark, so full of sorrow and despair that she found it hard to reach him. He spent long periods of time alone in his study, writing letters and dealing with things he would not tell her about. There was an almost feverish quality to his work, whatever it was, and he was forever jotting notes down in a small leather bound book which he kept in his coat pocket. Try as she might, Crecy couldn’t get him to explain what the book was for, and the one time she dared to try and take a peek, his anger had been quite something to behold. On top of this, his compulsion to arrange and tidy and straighten was no better, and he would struggle to keep his temper if Crecy tried to persuade him to leave things be.
This morning, she sighed as she stretched in bed, wondering if she dared to ask him again what he was going to such lengths to arrange, as surely he had something in mind? She suspected it was preparations for the baby, but he had done so much already that she couldn’t fathom what else could possibly be required. At this rate, it would be the most indulged child in the history of England. Crecy smiled at the idea, stroking her hand over her belly and feeling the twitch of a tiny foot pushing against her skin. Turning over on her other side, she reached for Gabriel and looked up, blinking in the morning light as she discovered he wasn’t there.
Gabriel slept very little, but he was always beside her when she woke. Flinging the covers back, Crecy got out of bed with a groan, rubbing the small of her back and fetching her wrap, neatly folded and put away, of course.
The day was already warm, but at least not the sticky, sultry heat of the past week, which had made her feel so uncomfortable. Padding on bare feet, she headed back to her own room to discover Beth crouched beside a large chest and surrounded by more open chests as she packed Crecy’s belongings. Crecy stared for a moment, a strange and unsettled feeling of foreboding stealing over her.
“What on earth is going on?” she demanded of Beth. The girl looked up, blowing a dark lock of hair from her face, which was already rosy and shining with perspiration. Judging from the scene around her, she must have begun at dawn.
“Why, miss, you’re goin’ back to England?” Beth sat back on her heels looking up at her with a frown. “Didn’t ‘e say nought to you?”
“No,” Crecy replied, feeling suddenly cold and frightened despite the warmth of the day. She turned around, needing to see Gabriel, to discover what on earth was going on. Hurrying down the stairs as fast as her now generous proportions would allow, she looked up as Gabriel appeared in the hallway.
“Slow down,” he ordered, looking furious with her. “How many times do I have to tell you to be careful on the stairs?”
“Gabriel!” she exclaimed, ignoring his words completely and throwing herself into his arms. “Tell me you’re not sending me back,” she said, fear a bitter taste in her mouth as she wondered if his father had won after all. She realised she was trembling, tears pricking at her eyes as she grabbed at his lapels and held on tight. “Please, Gabriel?”
She stared at him, seeing sorrow in his eyes even as he smiled and shook his head.
“Don’t be foolish. Of course I’m not sending you back, you ridiculous creature.” He gestured for her to follow him into the library and away from prying eyes, where he pulled her into his arms. “Crecy, you’re trembling,” he exclaimed, holding her tight and rubbing his hands up and down her back. “Come now, stop this nonsense. You’ll upset the baby.”
Crecy gave a hiccoughing laugh, looking up at him and not feeling as reassured as she perhaps ought by his words.
“W-why are they packing my things, then, and not yours?”
Gabriel smiled at her, one big hand cupping her face. “Because I didn’t want you to be disturbed. John will do mine now you’re up. We’ve a long journey ahead and I don’t want you to get tired.”
“But where are we going?” she demanded, feeling more perplexed than ever. “I thought I was to have the baby here?”
A look of guilt crossed his face and he didn’t meet her eyes. “I know. But I am going to put things right, Crecy. I’m going to do what I should have done months ago.”
Crecy stared at him, bewildered and anxious, as he too looked like he was scared to death.
“I don’t understand,” she whispered, turning her face into his hand and covering it with her own. Why did she feel so frightened?
“Well,” he said, his voice suddenly taking on the rather gruff tone that always meant he was anxious. “Assuming … assuming that you’ll have me, I’m going to marry you.”
Crecy blinked as the words seemed to float around her, but her brain didn’t seem to be able to catch up. The hand that was still clutching his now ruined lapel held on tighter as she felt suddenly a little dizzy.
“W-what?” she stammered, needing to be certain she really had heard him correctly. “What did you say?”
Gabriel frowned, his blue eyes troubled now. “Dammit, Crecy, you heard me,” he growled, looking so tense she thought he might bolt from the room at any moment. “Will you marry me or not?”
She gave a startled laugh and threw her arms about his neck, getting as close as her stomach would allow her, and pulled his head down for a kiss.
“Yes,” she said against his mouth, smiling as she kissed him. “Yes, yes, yes, yes, a thousand times yes, Gabriel.”
He snorted, but looked rather pleased all the same. “Well,” he said, leaning down a little so she didn’t have to strain to reach his lips. “That’s all right, then.”
Crecy sighed with relief, leaning her head on his chest. “But why England?” she said, looking up at him again. “We could marry here.”
Gabriel shook his head. “I want to marry you at Damerel, and …” He let out a
breath, looking a little shifty.
She stared at him, narrowing her eyes. “Gabriel, what have you done?” she asked, wondering what he was hiding.
He scratched his head, not looking at her. “I … may have bribed the reverend there into putting a false date in the register.”
Crecy’s mouth dropped open in shock. “You never did!” she exclaimed, gasping at his audacity. “How ever did you manage it?”
He snorted, looking relieved that she wasn’t cross with him. “I think the fellow believes he’s made a deal with the devil, but … well, the village church will have a new roof before Christmas, put it that way, and no one will be able to say anything to you, Crecy,” he added, his voice growing stern all at once. He stroked her face, staring at her with such a look that she felt utterly cherished, and for some reason still very afraid. “The register will show that I married you before we left England. You can hold your head up and our child will be legitimate.”
She blinked, wondering what it was that felt so wrong when he was trying so hard to do everything right.
He frowned at her, perhaps sensing her unease.
“Does this not please you?” he asked, the anxiety returning to his eyes.
“Yes,” she said, trying to smile as tears fell down her cheeks. “Yes, you’ve made me very, very happy, my love.” Swallowing, she clutched at his arms, staring into his eyes. “But I feel like you’re hiding something from me.”
Gabriel’s gaze slid from hers and he let her go.
“Don’t be foolish,” he said, his voice harder now. “It’s just you being overemotional. You know how you’ve been at times with this child.” He looked around then, a rather fond look in his eyes. “You’ve become a regular watering pot.”
“I have not,” Crecy objected, despite the fact she was wiping her face dry with the sleeve of her wrap.
He snorted, clearly disagreeing with her on that point.
“Go and get dressed, love,” he said, sounding softer all at once. “I don’t want you rushing about. We’ll take our time getting back so you don’t need to spend so long in the carriage, but I would like to leave by mid-morning.”
To Tame a Savage Heart Page 25