by Judith James
Ducking his head in embarrassment, absurdly pleased by her words, he managed a grunt and a slight squeeze in return, before beating a hasty retreat, back to the world of violence, flashing steel, and ironhard control, back to somewhere safe.
Late that afternoon, tired from a sleepless night, muscles aching from a particularly grueling session with Davey, Gabriel hurtled down the beach, his horse's hoofs pounding through the surf, the damp cold invigorating him and clearing his head. Stopping by a large outcropping of rock, slick and accessible at low tide, he dismounted, and made his way over barnacles and shells to perch on the edge.
As the wind buffeted him, he closed his eyes and opened his senses. He listened to the dull rumble of the waves as they advanced and receded, hissing and sizzling and whispering deep secrets, and for the first time that day, he allowed himself to think of last night. His lips curled in a blissful smile. He felt like dancing, like singing. He felt as if he could fly. He thought of Sarah, and her laughing eyes, her welcoming smile, and her gentle touch. Her generosity astonished him. Everything he'd asked of her, she'd given freely, with openness and kindness. Kind, yes, but God, those kisses! They were the kind of kisses a woman gave her sweetheart. For the first time, he allowed himself to hope that maybe, as unlikely as it seemed, she was beginning to care for him in the same way he cared for her.
When he was younger, he used to pretend he'd been left at Madame's by accident, and pray that someone was looking for him, would come to find him soon and take him home. He'd learned the way of things quickly enough, and soon nothing could shock him. He'd stopped pretending, and he'd stopped praying after that. He'd looked for no mercy and held no expectations. Now he thanked a merciful God for sending him something so achingly sweet and beautiful as Sarah and her kisses, and he prayed earnestly that she would allow him to kiss her again.
She did. He kissed her often after that, every chance he got, slow, sweet kisses stolen under the moon and stars; hot, breathy kisses when he greeted her; and quick and furtive kisses in the kitchen, the stables, and on the stairs. He fully employed his talent for sensuality and seduction to master this new art, to fashion with slow hands and sweet mouth, a heady intoxicating communion each time his lips touched hers. He knew he pleased her, and it thrilled him when she moaned and clung to him, returning his passion with her own. It was joyous, innocent, a first for both of them, and each kiss became a memory, untarnished and pure, belonging only to them.
Chapter
12
Sarah watched Gabriel move as he practiced with Ross thrusting and parrying as the wind whipping his hair round his shoulders. The months of working with Davey had sculpted him. Powerful and lean, his body was corded, sleek with muscle and sinew, his stomach ridged and hard. He moved like a dancer, lithe, graceful, and deadly, and as she watched him, mesmerized, she unconsciously licked her lips.
"You like what you see, little cousin?" Davey whispered in her ear, startling her. Growling at him, her face a deep crimson, she didn't answer. With a knowing smile, he tugged on her hair and made to leave.
"Wait! Davey?"
"Yes, querida?
"Do you ... do you like him?"
He smiled sweetly. "Why, yes, cousin. I like him. I like him very much. But not as much as you do, I think." Giving her a wink, he moved away.
Over the next few weeks, the house filled with noise and laughter as Jamie returned home to celebrate Christmas. Cheerful and enthusiastic, he regaled them with stories of adventures with his new chums, pranks played on the stodgy schoolmaster, and the foolish escapades of Sidney s silly daughters. He'd grown in size and confidence over the past four months, and while he was clearly delighted to be home, there was a new reserve in his manner, reflecting his growing sense of himself as a young man, rather than a boy. Inclined to forget a past that had no place in his new life, caught up in the excitement, short memory, and endless joy of youth, the immediate was all that existed for him. He had friends his own age now, and for the moment at least, they were far more exciting to him than Gabriel, Ross, or Sarah.
Gabriel couldn't fail to note that Jamie no longer sought him out as he used to, and he wondered if he was becoming an embarrassment to the boy, an unwelcome remembrance of dark times. It reminded him that he was neither a guest nor a member of the family, but a paid employee whose services would not be required much longer. Stubbornly determined to enjoy whatever time he had with Sarah to the fullest, he buried all such hurts and fears, and let none of his worry show.
Over the course of the Yule, the house was decorated with greenery, and there were feasts, visits, dances, and much merrymaking with the townsfolk and the local gentry. Gabriel was surprised, embarrassed, and deeply moved when Ross and Davey presented him with the gift of a fine Toledo blade, made to match his height and reach. He was speechless when Sarah gave him a beautiful violin made by an old Gypsy fiddle master. He was embarrassed that he didn't have any gifts to give in return. He'd never celebrated any holiday before, hadn't known what to expect, and he'd certainly never been given gifts.
Sarah eased his discomfort by claiming he had given them the gift of music, and so it was that he found himself the center of attention at soirees and dances throughout the holidays, delighting family and guests with his artistry and skill. Not used to attention or applause, he found it distinctly discomfiting at first, but soon learned to manage a gracious, if somewhat terse reply, to the congratulations and admiring comments.
When Ross hosted a gathering of friends and neighbors for Twelfth Night, Gabriel was eagerly sought after by the local young ladies, much to his chagrin, and the household's amusement. Goodnatured and polite, he danced with several country misses, providing more than one with fodder for dreams for years to come. He was, nevertheless, uncomfortable in such gatherings, and relieved when the season wound down and he could resume his training with Davey, his sparring with Ross, and his evenings with Sarah. His only regret was Jamie's return to Sidney's.
The quiet was welcome to everyone after the bustle of the holidays, and Davey and Ross sat enjoying a brandy in the library. Ross could see Gabriel and Sarah through the open door across the hall, heads bent close together as they played a duet on the violin. He couldn't fail but notice they were practically inseparable these days. Only halfattending one of Davey's scandalous stories, his glance flicked from his sister to his protege.
To his credit, Gabriel appeared to be behaving like a gentleman, somewhat surprising under the circumstances. He was clearly considerate and respectful of her, and doubtless head over heels in love. As for Sarah, she practically glowed whenever he was in the vicinity. Ross sighed and rubbed his temples. The lad was badly damaged, entirely unsuitable, and he didn't want to see her hurt.
"They make a pretty pair, don't they? He's mad for your sister. You realize that, don't you, Ross?"
Ross blinked, giving Davey a sour look. He'd forgotten he was in the room. "He pants after her."
"Well, at least you know he’s not a catamite."
"Blast you, man; that's not amusing!"
"It is to me. You're as ruffled and missish as some ancient spinster. She's been alone a long time, Ross. She's not found a man to interest her since that travesty of a marriage five years ago."
"I had thought, at one time, that perhaps you and she..."
"Ah, yes, well...these things happen. A man waits too long, you see, and some other fellow seizes the prize. She only has eyes for him. You're no more blind than I am."
Ross sighed. "I've feared it*
"Why? What's to fear? He's a likely lad, treats her well enough from what I can see."
"The thing is, Davey...he's not exactly what he seems. His circumstances, his background, through no fault of his own, have been horrendous. I fear he's been damaged ... badly."
"Aye, well, so have we all, my friend. Life does that. What of it?"
"Christ, man, we found him in a brothel! He grew up there and he wasn't employed as the potboy or the cook. He'd been looki
ng out for James, and Sarah insisted we bring him home with us."
"And so? The girl has good instincts and you've never been one to judge a man by what he can't help and had no part in creating. Or was he happy there?"
"No, I think not. I believe he stayed to protect Jamie.”
"Hmm, so you owe him a significant debt, hence his welcome to your home."
"But not to my sister! I don't fault him for it, Davey, but if you knew the things he's been through .. . what he's done."
"Maybe I do; maybe I don't." Davey shrugged and poured himself another brandy, offering one to Ross. "What's your point?"
"I'm afraid he's damaged in ways that can't be mended, and that she'll have her heart broken trying "
"She's a woman, my friend, not a child, and a widow at that. It's for her to decide, isn't it?"
"I'm fairly certain that he's killed before."
"Well, heavens, Ross! So have we! It will certainly help with his training."
"You've had him for just over four months now. What do you make of him? Do you like him?"
"Aye, well enough, old friend. He's a good lad. Sharp as any I've trained. Hungry, curious, agile as a cat, and very quick to learn. I'd as lief have him at my back as any of my crew."
Ross's eyebrows raised in surprise. "High praise, indeed, Davey! He's that good?"
"Aye, brother, as good as you were at that age, and I reckon he'll be better than both of us before too long. IT1 tell you something else. I know strength when I see it, Ross, and that boy has a core of steel. He seems decent enough to me, and not only because of what he did for Jamie. We've both seen lads no older than he is, born to fortune and privilege, given every opportunity, and what do they do with it? They debase themselves and others. Why? Because they're spoiled and bored. Because they can. Gabriel may have grown up in a hellhole, but I'll measure a man by how he's dealt with adversity, and from what I can see he's done all right for himself. He's a decent lad, Ross. More so than many I've met. If living a life like you say didn't destroy that, I can't imagine anything will."
Ross let out deep sigh. "You're right, Davey. I like the lad, too. It's just hard .. . one's sister. I daresay it would have alarmed me equally if she'd set her cap for you."
Davey threw back his head and roared with laughter. "Blast it, man! We need to find you a woman before you turn into a crotchety old crone. I swear! I am here to rescue you. Come, let us hie ourselves off to the widow Creswell's and lose ourselves in skirts and liquor,"
"Aye, let's, but there's a matter I'd like to discuss first. It's come to my attention that there've been several smuggling runs recently."
"Indeed? And how did that come to your attention? Might it be the wine we had at dinner? Your afternoon tea? Or is it that cigar you're smoking?"
"I'm serious, Davey. I'm aware you've been taking Gabriel with you, and I would rather you didn't.”
"What? You ve given him to me to train and you don't want me to take him to sea?"
Ross laughed. "You want to take him to sea? You mean you want to turn him into a smuggler, Davey, and introduce him to piracy, as well, no doubt."
"Tsk-tsk! Privateering, child. Do make an effort to get it right."
"Regardless, Davey, I didn't bring him here to have his head end up in a noose."
"The lad's learned a lot, Ross. He needs a chance to put it into practice. It won't hurt him to learn seamanship. He's not likely to be one of those pretty, puffedup courtiers you see in London, prancing about with a sword dangling between their legs pretending it's their prick, sticking themselves with it and tangling it in the ladies' dresses. He'll be wanting a trade, and I can promise you he's not suited to being a bloody bookkeeper, or somebody's bailiff!"
"I say again, smuggling and piracy are not options."
"Well I'm sorry to hear you say that, and it's privateering, mind. The lad loves the water. He's at home on a ship, and he's an able seaman. I've a mind to promote him to midshipman soon. If he continues as he's begun he'll be a captain one day. You know as well as I what a nice prize can do to help a young fellow get a good start in life."
"Do you know, I've never quite understood exactly what kind of privateer you are, Davey. British? French? American?"
"Well, now, that depends, doesn't it, Ross? When I'm down in the Americas...well, you don't want to know about that. If things become uncomfortable here, I may head back to the Mediterranean. It's proven to be a highly lucrative hunting ground in the past, and I've a letter of marquee against the French. Since the Corsican appears to have abandoned his fleet there in search of glory closer to home, it should prove an excellent time to pluck a juicy French prize or two. You should join me, Ross. It would do you good. You're reminding me more and more of my old spinster auntie these days."
"I'm done with all that, Davey. I've lost my taste for mayhem. It's a dangerous game you play, and you've no right to bring Gabriel into it. Lieutenant Brey is scouring the coast with the Hindy looking to make a name for himself. He intends to put an end to smuggling in this area, particularly since the murder of one of his men. You are well connected. If you were taken you might walk away, but the lad would be hung or transported. Leave off the smuggling for now. Take him with you when you're on legitimate business. Perhaps we can make him a merchant captain."
"If you would have my aid, I suggest you don't insult me. That popinjay, Brey, and his slovenly scow are no match for the UEsperance, and well you know it. I'll be hoping to pluck a juicy French pullet or two come spring, but in the meantime, the free trade with Guernsey is fat and lucrative enough to pay my men and fund their retirements. You re doing well enough by it yourself. The lad's of age and he has no wish to be beholden, Ross, and as much as I value your opinion, I will do my training as I see fit."
"Times are changing, Davey. You weren't here last year when those fools on the Lottery murdered a customs officer. It was a bad business, soured things all the way around. Those who used to turn a blind eye, or take their cut took it personally. I've met this fellow, Brey. He's no fool, and you'd be wise not to underestimate him."
"Ross, my boy, let's not argue. I promise you I'll think on it, but for now, what say we put it aside in favor of a warm woman and a cold beer."
"Aye. A man has needs. Give me a moment to finish this cigar and I'll join you."
"Fair enough. I'll check on the children, shall I?" Davey wandered out to the music room to join Sarah and Gabriel while he waited.
Ross watched them thoughtfully through the open door. His thoroughly unconventional widowed innocent of a sister was deep in conversation with a beautiful, doeeyed and deadly ex-prostitute, and a charming, roguish, undeniably attractive sea-captain-cum-smuggler-cum-pirate. Ah, well. He shrugged his shoulders, readying himself to leave. If anyone tried to harm her, they'd be filleted and fried before they hit the ground, and with that, he must be content.
Chapter 13
Whatever notice Davey took of Ross's warnings, it didn't stop him from the lucrative free trading that kept his ship at the ready and his crew content. Gabriel had been out to sea several times now. On occasion they were gone for several days, flitting back and forth across the channel running wool from England to France, stealing back from Guernsey under cover of night with shipments of brandy, gin, and tobacco. He'd grown familiar with the system of caves and tunnels that made this stretch of coast a smuggler's paradise, and a nightmare to the many ships that foundered on her reefs. His cool head, quick wit, and willingness to lend a hand won him the respect of Davey and the crew, and promotion to midshipman, and his lessons now included navigation, nautical astronomy, and trigonometry. As his lessons in seamanship and swordplay continued apace, he found himself responding to the approval in Davey's eyes with a growing sense of accomplishment and pride.
Bright and teasing, ferocious and deadly, cobalt, silver, or phosphorescent green, Gabriel loved the ocean in all her changing facets, but Sarah claimed his soul. She was never far from his thoughts, and the adventures that fu
eled his days came truly alive when he was able to share them with her. Having spent almost two years with Davey and his men, Sarah had her own stories to tell of exotic ports and wild nights of music and dancing on faraway shores. Although she loved the ocean as much as Gabriel did, she'd known little joy at the time, consumed in those dark days by guilt, her grief for her parents and Ross, and her fears for Jamie. As she listened to Gabriel tell his stories, she found the old longing and excitement return, and it didn't take much for him to convince her to accompany them on some of their shorter jaunts, much to the delight of Davey and his crew.
***
Training, sailing, kissing and talking with Sarah, everything seemed to be going well for Gabriel as winter edged to spring. He was at a loss to understand why his dreams, which for several months now had receded to the odd or occasional nightmare, had returned to haunt him with a vengeance. He dream of de Sevigny, cold and terrible in his anger, waking him from his sleep, Reveille toi, mon ange, determined to punish him, mark him, debase him for daring to leave, then passing him to his friends as a thing of no value. He dreamt of cruel hands holding him down, strong arms binding him tight, and brutal invasion. He dreamt of blood and savage hatred, and once he dreamt he was walking on the moon and could see the earth, impossibly beautiful, bright with warmth and light, far in the distance, beyond his reach as he wandered a stark landscape, frigid and completely alone.
Some nights he didn't dream at all, but lay in bed awake, contemplating his future, sick dread knotted in his chest. With the coming of spring his contract with Ross would be complete and there'd be no reason for him to stay. Jamie had adjusted to his new circumstances so well no one would ever have guessed he hadn't been raised in them. He didn't need Gabriel anymore. In truth, they hadn't spent more than a few hours together over the past six months.
He knew he should be making plans regarding where he would go and what he'd do with his money, but thinking about it made him decidedly uncomfortable. He didn't discuss it with Ross, fearing to remind him, worried it might hasten his departure, something he was rinding increasingly difficult to imagine. He'd come to feel he belonged here, but he wasn't some distant relation or a friend of the family, and it would soon be time for him to go. He was being handsomely paid and he'd be able to arrange his life as he pleased. He should consider himself fortunate, but all he wanted was to stay with Sarah.