To Tame a Savage Heart

by Emma V. Leech

  “You’ll return here tonight, though?” Gabriel nodded as she took his arm, and he escorted her out to the carriage. “Very well, then, I shall see you tomorrow,” she said as he handed her inside.

  She sat down and Gabriel leant in, quite unable to resist one last kiss.

  “Until tomorrow,” she whispered.

  Gabriel kissed her again, but said nothing, closing the carriage door and watching until she had driven away, out of sight.

  Chapter 31

  “Wherein Gabriel puts his final plan into action.”

  “Crecy!” Belle ran into the hallway of the great castle, her eyes alight with both joy and distress. “Oh, love, oh, I’ve been so worried.”

  Any anxiety that Crecy might have felt at being shunned or at least scolded evaporated as Belle threw her arms around her. She was hugged and squeezed and kissed until she was forced to protest, and then Belle put her hand on her stomach.

  “Oh, Crecy, love,” she said, her voice so sad that Crecy felt a burst of anger.

  “Don’t say it like that, Belle,” she said, unable to keep the irritation from her voice.

  “How else can I say it, love?” Belle asked, holding her hand and looking so utterly miserable that Crecy gave a tut of impatience.

  “We’re married. Happy now?” she said, with the quirk of one eyebrow. To her disappointment, Belle didn’t look much happier at all.

  “Well,” she said, and Crecy could tell Belle was being careful with her words. “I am glad, of course, for the child’s sake, but …” She could apparently not keep her thoughts to herself a moment longer. “But to such a man, Crecy? Why? Why DeMorte, of all people?”

  Crecy gritted her teeth. She should have more patience, she knew she should, but there had been something raw and fragile about Gabriel when she’d left him, and the more she thought on it, the more worried she became.

  “What, why stay with a man who beats me and drinks and gambles and visits whores?” she said, feeling a stab of satisfaction as Belle turned a deathly shade of white.

  “Crecy?” she exclaimed, obviously taking her words at face value. “Well, you’re safe now, love. He’ll not touch you again, I promise. You need not be frightened anymore.”

  Crecy threw up her hands and stalked into the parlour, leaving Belle to hurry behind her. “Did you actually read my letters, Belle?” she demanded as her sister closed the door behind her.

  “Of course I did,” Belle replied, sounding affronted.

  “And?”

  Belle held her arms about herself, and Crecy suddenly realised Belle had delivered her child. She must have a niece or nephew somewhere about the place. She felt a rush of sadness that she didn’t even know the child’s name, and her heart softened a little.

  “And …” Belle hesitated.

  “You thought perhaps I had to say such things? That Gabriel forced me to tell you that I was happy, that I’d gone with him willingly, is that it?”

  Belle said nothing. She didn’t have to.

  Crecy sighed, suddenly exhausted. She sat down and patted the seat beside her. Belle came to her and Crecy took her hand.

  “This is the truth, Belle,” Crecy said, looking directly in the eye the woman who had been more mother than sister. “Gabriel is the most loving, kindest, most wonderful man. He’s not who you think he is, he never has been.” Crecy swallowed, feeling a lump rise in her throat. “But he is damaged, Belle. Oh, if you knew what he’d gone through.” She blinked back tears and Belle squeezed her hands tighter.

  “Don’t cry, love. You’re back home now and … and if Gabriel is everything you say, then … well, I’m sure we can work things out. Together.”

  Crecy burst into tears and Belle gathered her up, rocking her like she’d done as a child when she’d scraped her knee or some ugly pet that she’d loved to distraction had died. She knew Belle didn’t believe her, not yet. But she knew that she’d try, and sooner or later she would realise that Gabriel was everything that Crecy knew him to be.

  ***

  Gabriel looked up at the elegant façade of the rather infamous house he owned in one of the more scandalous neighbourhoods of Bath, away from the more fashionable thoroughfares. He entered to be greeted by the lady of the house, who beamed at him, holding out both hands in greeting.

  “My lord!” she exclaimed. “What a lovely surprise.”

  Gabriel bent and kissed the woman on both cheeks. “Hello, Mary,” he said. “You’re looking well.”

  Mrs Wilkins - though she’d never been married a day in her life - grinned at him. “Come and have a drink,” she said, leading the way to her office. Gabriel passed a couple of scantily clad young women, who giggled and blew him kisses.

  “Hello, Lord DeMorte,” they chorused, affecting a shy demeanour that neither of them owned.

  Gabriel nodded to them, closing Mary’s door behind him. “I’m not stopping, Mary. I just have something to give you.”

  “Oh?” She looked around at him, her expression curious. Gabriel thought she was still a handsome woman, despite the ugly scar that marred her left cheek, perhaps even because of it. She was a strong woman, a fighter, and she wore her scars with the pride of one who had looked into the abyss and survived. Gabriel envied her.

  “Here,” he said, putting a thick envelope on her desk. She looked at him, frowning a little as she reached to take it. “It’s the deeds to this place, Mary. It’s yours.”

  The woman before him stared, gasped, and then sat down heavily in her chair, still staring at him, and for once beyond speech. That was amusing, at least.

  “You’ll also find an annuity in your name. There ought to be enough for you to be comfortable and to help set the girls up doing … well, something else,” he added. “If that’s what they want. You’ll know what to do, I’m sure.”

  Mary’s eyes filled with tears, her hand covering her mouth as she gave a sob, and Gabriel looked away, uncomfortable with such a show of emotion.

  “Why?” she asked, her voice thick now.

  Gabriel shrugged. “Because it’s the right thing to do.” He gave a twisted smile as he glanced back at her. “I was curious to know how it felt.”

  Mary got to her feet and crossed the room, holding out her hands to him, and then paused as Gabriel didn’t move. She gave him a curious look, realising he did not wish to be touched. “In the first place, you’ve been nothing but kindness to us, my lord. You gave us a safe place to be, and as for what you did for me …”

  Gabriel waved his hand, an impatient gesture that clearly showed he had no desire to hear any more thanks.

  “A business venture, nothing more,” he said with a shake of his head. “Any good businessman protects his assets,” he added, his voice hard now.

  Mary snorted. “I’m pretty good with numbers, my lord, and I know full well that most of the profits have been used on improving the building, doctor’s bills, those two big fellows who keep order, heating this huge house in the winter, clothing and feeding us, and sending the kids to school.”

  Gabriel frowned and wondered how he could leave now without offending her.

  “How is Sarah’s child?” he asked, hoping to get her off the subject so he could make good his escape.

  Mary’s face softened and she smiled at him. “The doctor said he’d make a full recovery.”

  Gabriel nodded. “That’s good.” He turned away, moving to the door.

  “I heard you’d run away to France with some beautiful blonde chit,” she said, and Gabriel’s head snapped around, fury rising at hearing Crecy spoken of in such a manner.

  “Have a care, Mary,” he said, his voice a growl. “That’s my wife you speak of.”

  Mary’s mouth fell open, her eyes wide. “Well,” she said, the word little more than a whisper. “That explains a lot.” She smiled at him with such warmth that Gabriel felt the desire to just run from the room and slam the door as he went. The last thing he wanted right now was kindness or gratitude. “It’s about time. I�
�m so happy for you.” Her head tilted as she regarded him. “Is she very beautiful?”

  Gabriel frowned, not wanting to discuss Crecy with her but quite unable to not reply. “Yes. Very,” he said.

  A broad smile curved over the woman’s generous mouth now as her eyes lit up. “You love her.”

  It was more an accusation than a question, and Gabriel took a breath, the ache in his heart so intense he could hardly breathe.

  “Yes,” he agreed, his voice rough. He turned, looking Mary in the eyes. “More than life.”

  ***

  Frederick Bainbridge had been Gabriel’s man of business, and his father’s before him. He was getting on in years, now, but was a jovial-looking man - for a lawyer - with a heavy jowled face and thinning grey hair. Today, however, his ruddy countenance was filled with concern.

  “I don’t understand the hurry, my lord,” he said, pushing the papers towards Gabriel. “May I enquire if you are in good health? You’ve not received any … any bad or worrying news?”

  “My health is no concern of yours,” Gabriel said, his tone sharp as he signed the papers. “You’re sure this is enough to tie things up?” he demanded, knowing he could not act until he was quite certain.

  Bainbridge sighed, obviously knowing Gabriel well enough to realise he’d not answer any questions that he did not wish to answer.

  “It is a most unusual arrangement, and it has taken me a great deal of difficulties, but, yes, I believe so. Your wife will inherit everything on the event of your death, and even if she marries again, the wealth and properties will remain in her hands and then go to your child, be it male or female.”

  Gabriel let out a sigh. Crecy and the child would be safe. They had everything they needed to live a good and happy life, without his toxic presence to taint everything.

  “Thank you,” he said, his gratitude so obviously heartfelt that he earned himself a look of surprise from the man before him.

  Once all of the papers had been signed, he got to his feet. There was no point in delaying.

  “Goodbye, Mr Bainbridge.”

  Bainbridge stood, hurrying to open the door for him, but paused, his hand resting on the door knob.

  “My lord?” he said, his voice hesitant and full of concern. “I’ve known you for a long time now, and it has been my privilege to serve you.”

  He ignored Gabriel’s grunt of amusement at that. Gabriel well knew he’d been a thorn in the man’s side on many occasions. Bainbridge shook his head and carried on.

  “I know much about you that most do not,” he continued, apparently determined to say something, whatever on earth it might be. “The good you have done alongside the …”

  “Wickedness?” Gabriel supplied for him, his voice deadpan.

  Bainbridge smiled a little. “I can’t help but think that most who fell afoul of you got exactly what they deserved, but nonetheless, perhaps after so many years, you will allow an old man the privilege of sticking his nose in where it’s not wanted.” To Gabriel’s horror, he moved forward and clasped his hand between both of his. “Don’t do anything foolish, young man. I know that your life has been a hard one, but you have a child now, a wife … Do you really think all the riches in the world can replace a father and husband?”

  Gabriel withdrew his hand from the man’s grasp, shaken by the affection in his voice, the concern in his eyes. “You are right, Bainbridge, it is not your affair, and as for that … it rather depends on the father or husband. Speaking for myself and my mother, we would have happily buried my father in the ground and danced on his grave. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have things to attend to.”

  Gabriel left before the old man could say anything further. It had occurred to him that his intentions might have been suspected, but that the fellow would actually care one way or another had been a surprise. He hurried back to his carriage, lost in thought, mentally checking off all of the items he’d had to accomplish that had been written so carefully in the small notebook he’d been guarding. All that remained was to write some letters of explanation, as best he could, at least.

  Gabriel was so lost in thought that he almost didn’t hear the furious voice that rang out across the street.

  “DeMorte!”

  Gabriel looked around, in no mood to be delayed, and gave a snort of amusement as he saw his cousin, Edward, striding towards him with murder in his eyes. He, too, had inherited the Greyston stature and breadth, and looked a little like a raging bull as he advanced. If there really was a god, he had a damned twisted sense of humour. Gabriel didn’t doubt the fellow wanted his blood and would call him out now. After so many years of wanting it, now he could not allow it. For with him gone, he needed Edward to protect Crecy and the child. So Gabriel could not kill him even if he wanted to, which he was startled to find he didn’t in the least. It would be an easy way out, too, to get Edward to kill him. Nice and neat, but then Crecy would never forgive Edward. No. He couldn’t do it.

  “You bastard!” Edward growled, giving Gabriel a hard shove. “You filthy, evil bastard. You just had to have her, didn’t you? I don’t care what you do to me, but to use an innocent like Lucretia …”

  “Keep your bloody voice down,” Gabriel hissed, aware that they were drawing curious looks from passersby.

  Edward gaped at him, his green eyes incredulous. “Now you think about her reputation? When it was shredded months ago? People have done nothing else but salivate and chew over the story of how you seduced and ran off with my sister-in-law.”

  Gabriel flinched but said nothing. There was no time now. There was too much to be done and too little time to do it.

  “Go and speak to Crecy,” he said, feeling suddenly all used up and worn to a thread. He had no energy left for Edward. His anger had left him, and all that was left was a bone-deep sorrow what for he had to do. He moved away, but Edward’s big hand grasped his arm hard.

  “No, you’ll answer for this,” his cousin growled, fury vibrating through him. If it wasn’t for the people thronging the streets of Bath, Gabriel didn’t have the slightest doubt that he’d try and murder him with his bare hands. His alternative was hardly a surprise, however. “Name your seconds.”

  Gabriel laughed, but it was an exhausted sound. “Go home to your wife, Edward.”

  “You bloody coward!” Edward raged, his face more filled with hatred and fury than Gabriel had ever seen it. Edward had always been the golden son, beloved by all, hale fellow well met. Until after the war, of course, but even then, everyone had loved and admired the fellow, despite his temper and glowering looks. He’d never been reviled or hated or shunned. Gabriel had envied him for that. “You’ll meet me, tomorrow,” Edward snapped. “The lake at dawn.”

  “For God’s sake, Edward,” Gabriel said, shaking his head. “If you think me afraid, then you really don’t know me at all, but you have a wife and a child to think of now.”

  “Like you care?” Edward snapped, his fury palpable; the man was alive with tension and anger and it rolled off of him in waves. Gabriel felt suddenly relieved by it. This was a man driven by the desperate desire to protect those he loved. He would do the same for Crecy and the baby, for the only two people Gabriel had ever loved since his mother had died.

  Gabriel nodded, knowing it made no difference now. “You are right, of course, Edward. I don’t care,” he said, too aware that time was slipping away from him. “Very well. Dawn tomorrow.”

  Edward gave a taut nod before turning away. Gabriel watched him go, feeling a sudden sense of regret that he hadn’t known Edward better. He wondered what his life might have been like if Edward had been a friend rather than an enemy, but Edward’s father had taught his son to shun his cousin, just as his own father had blackmailed Gabriel into destroying his.

  Well, it was too late now and it was growing late. Gabriel turned away and hurried back to his carriage.

  Chapter 32

  “Wherein sunrise brings terror and the threat of bloodshed.”

 
Crecy woke in the room she had called her own at Longwold, feeling disorientated. After an emotional few hours with Belle, she had been exhausted and gone to have a nap, and now it was dark, apart from the bright moonlight that flooded the room through the open curtains. She lit the lamp beside her and hauled her heavy body upright. She was hungry, she decided, and Edward’s wonderful cook, Puddy, was bound to have something delicious in the kitchen if she hunted about.

  With a yawn, she shuffled out of the bedroom door, realising it was later than she thought, as the castle was in darkness and none of the staff about. Pausing in the corridor, she felt a stab of alarm as she heard a furious argument coming from Belle’s room. Feeling like an eavesdropper, but anxious for Belle, she moved closer to the door just in time to hear a baby’s high-pitched wail. Ah, that would be Eli. The little baby boy certainly had a fine set of lungs, though he had been all smiles for his aunty Crecy earlier on.

  “Now you’ve woken the baby!” Belle’s exasperated voice snapped.

  “I wasn’t the one shouting,” Edward retorted, though he sounded rather chastened in Crecy’s view, which was quite amusing.

  “I wouldn’t have been shouting if you hadn’t ruined everything, Edward. You must go and see him, call the whole thing off!”

  “Damned if I will!” Edward shot back. “After what he did? Besides, it’s a matter of honour now.

  “Honour be damned! Edward Greyston, if you kill Crecy’s husband, she’ll never forgive you, and if he kills you …” At this point, Belle’s voice broke and she began to cry as hard as Eli. Crecy couldn’t hear anything past a loud buzzing in her ears, though. Belle had said Edward had gone to Bath that day to meet an old army friend. He must have run into Gabriel. Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no. She had to stop this.

  She raised a fist, about to pound on the door, when the front door bell began to ring and didn’t stop, accompanied by someone hammering on the door.

  “What the devil is that?” Edward exclaimed, pulling open the door and nearly running into Crecy.