Undercover Cavaliere
Behind the Ranges, Book VIII
By
Judith B. Glad
Something hidden. Go and find it.
Go and look behind the ranges--
Something lost behind the Ranges.
Lost and waiting for you. Go.
Rudyard Kipling: The Explorer
Uncial Press Aloha, Oregon
2010
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and events described herein are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locations, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
ISBN 13: 978-1-60174-100-4
ISBN 10: 1-60174-100-6
Undercover Cavaliere
Copyright © 2010 by Judith B. Glad
Cover design
Copyright © 2010 by Judith B. Glad
All rights reserved. Except for use in review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the author or publisher.
Published by Uncial Press,
an imprint of GCT, Inc.
Visit us at http://www.uncialpress.com
For Neils Peter Anderson Glad
1920-2008
Life was Good.
Love was True
Chapter One
Boise City, Idaho Territory
June 1884
The hours-old babies were sleeping now, and so were their exhausted parents. The house was quiet, after the excitement of her parents' return from their world tour, the influx of relatives here to celebrate the birth of Lulu's and Tony's twins. That everyone had arrived in time was nothing short of incredible, but part of her would have been happier if they had all stayed away until tomorrow.
All but Aunt Flower and Uncle William, Silas and Soomey. These were their first grandchildren. It was right that they'd been here.
Regina was still too keyed up to rest. She had read all about childbirth, but assisting at one was an entirely different story. It had been astonishing, exhilarating, and terrifying, all at once.
The experience had also awakened old, carefully buried dreams.
Once she had wanted a child...children.
Time was running out for her. She'd turned twenty-eight in February. She was an old maid. Worse, there was no man in her life, no man she wanted in her life.
Be honest. There is one man...
He can't be the man I need. And I'm not the right woman for him.
She stood at the back window of the kitchen, looking down the gentle slope towards a pasture where three mares and their foals stood hipshot in the shade of a black locust tree, drowsy in the warm June day. A pile of kittens slept on the back steps and two puppies played tug-of-war with a stick in the back yard.
Babies everywhere. She closed her eyes.
Someone entered the kitchen behind her. Regina didn't have to turn around to know who it was. She always knew when he was nearby.
"What are you doing here?" she said without opening her eyes.
"Same as you. Saying hello to the twins. Now my mama won't be after me to give her grandchildren."
"Damn it, Gabe, you know what I mean You haven't been home in more than ten years. Why now?" Regina stared blindly out the window, wishing she could be somewhere--anywhere--else.
Or he could.
"I didn't have much choice. Buff all but shanghaied me." There was just a hint of anger in his deep voice, as if he'd not been altogether happy about coming home.
Good. She wasn't happy about it either.
"What happened to your leg?"
"Shot." She heard him ease himself into a kitchen chair. "That ought to make you happy."
She turned around so quickly that she banged her elbow on the window frame. "Shot? Oh, my God! When? How? Why?"
"The Ides of March." His wry tone told her just how unfunny he found the date. "In Florence. Somebody didn't like me." He sprawled in the chair, as if he were terribly tired. His gold-headed cane clattered to the floor beside him.
Even in the subdued light, she could see deep lines of strain around his sensuous, full-lipped mouth, between his thick, dark eyebrows. "Gabe?"
"Uh-huh?"
"When are you going to stop playing your silly spy games?"
He didn't open his eyes. "I'm not a spy. I'm an agent. There's a difference. The Coalition doesn't work for any nation. You know that."
"Oh, for heaven's sake. Stop splitting hairs and tell me what happened." She dropped onto the settee under the window, crossing her legs in a way that would have her mother giving her the dickens, never mind she was a grown-up spinster schoolmarm.
"It wasn't anything special. I was a courier, delivering a package. I didn't know what was in it, or why it was important enough to have me deliver it. When I got there--just a room off an alley--someone was waiting for me. He shot me when I stepped up to the door." His shrug showed disgust and perhaps a touch of defeat. So unlike the Gabe she remembered.
"Is...is the limp permanent?" She remembered how fleet and agile he'd been, how he had almost flown across the pastures, winning every footrace with her brothers.
"So they say." He swung his right leg, but the knee didn't flex as it should. Tendons snapped against bone. "They told me I was lucky not to lose the leg."
"Oh, Gabe--"
He held up a hand. "Stop it, Gina. I don't need your sympathy. I don't need anyone's sympathy. I'm doing fine."
She turned away, unable to bear the anger and pain in his expression. "Are you going to stay, now you're home?"
"Stay?" the word came out on a bark of laughter. "Of course not. I'll go up to Cherry Vale with the folks for a week or two, then I'll head back. I need to be in Athens in early August."
"I see." She stood, still not looking directly at him. "I wish you well, then. It's been nice seeing you."
"Gina--"
She ignored his reaching hand as she opened the back door and went down the steps. No one else had ever called her Gina. No one else ever would, if she had anything to say about it.
By the time she reached the riverbank, nearly a mile away, she was over most of her anger, but the hurt was still there, lodged in her heart where it had been for ten years.
Gabe had been her model for a dashing corsair, an adventurous explorer, a gallant knight, when she was a romantic youngster. His appearance had fit him well into all those roles, a handsome blend of races, yet not obviously belonging to any particular one. His inherent agility and grace had made him a convincing hero.
She and her brothers and sisters had envied the King children their interesting parents. Aunt Flower was the daughter of a fur trapper and his Nez Perce wife, Uncle William the son of a Negro slave and probably her white master. Their children, Gabe, Lulu, and Micah were so different in appearance that they might not have been related. Micah took after his father in coloring and features. Lulu had hair the color of antique gold and skin like heavily creamed coffee. Gabe could have stepped out of an Italian Renaissance painting, with his thick, wavy black hair, his swarthy skin and a nose as elegant as any Roman's. Both he and Lulu had inherited their mother's gray eyes.
The Lachlan children, on the other hand, were boringly ordinary in appearance. She and her older brother resembled their father in height and coloring, although Buffalo's hair was a darker blond than hers and curly instead of merely wavy. Katie and Rhys were like their mother, short and slight, with dark brown hair. The others were somewhere in-between, neither striking nor unusual. Now that Regina had been out into the world, she realized that their pa
rentage had made her friends' lives more complicated than hers would ever be, and had learned to be grateful that she was clearly of European ancestry.
She still thought Gabe was the most beautiful man she'd ever seen.
* * * *
Gabe watched her stride rapidly down the slope behind the house. She walked almost like a man, her long legs eating up the distance, her arms swinging freely, instead of held decorously close to her body. Sunlight caught in her bright hair, piled untidily atop her head, turning it to a blaze of gold. She had no patience with fancy hairstyles, and usually wore a coronet of braids. He supposed she'd not had time to fuss with it this morning.
The gazebo halfway down the slope was new. And empty. With any luck, she'd come back the same way and he could catch her there.
He had something to say to her, something long past due.
* * * *
She sat on the riverbank for a long time, watching the swiftly flowing water, letting its song soothe her troubled heart. Her thoughts tumbled over one another, chaotic and confused. Just seeing him again brought back all the old hurts, all the old dreams. She'd hoped he'd stay away forever, and at the same time she'd wished he'd come back, even for a little while.
Well, he was here now. "I love him," she told the restless water. "I still love him," she whispered to the fitful breeze.
Neither answered.
The sun had sunk out of sight when she finally rose, stiff from sitting still so long. She knew better than to stay here in the dark, even though an almost full moon would show her the path clearly. Pa would lambast her, never mind she was full grown and had been living on her own for nearly two years, while he and Ma had traveled. He didn't cotton to his girls putting themselves at peril. Stiffly she rose and started toward home. The mile-long path seemed endless.
"Gina... Regina." He stood in the gazebo's entrance.
For a moment she ignored the summons. But just for a moment, for she'd never been able to resist him, no matter how angry she was. And now she was no longer angry, but just sad, mourning the lost years, the missed opportunities.
His stubbornness.
Hers.
The gazebo had weathered nicely in the three years since she and Pa had built it. It was her special place, where she wasn't Miss Lachlan, terror of Adams Normal School, or Regina the spinster daughter who'd turned down every likely man who'd ever come courting. "What do you want?"
"You." The word held worlds of meaning. Looking into his eyes, the color of winter rain, she saw frustration, irritation, desire. "I've always wanted you."
And I've always wanted you. If only the price weren't so high. "We don't always get what we want."
Before she realized his intention, his arms were around her. Gimp leg or no, he was still a powerful man, strong of arm, strong of will. His hand caught her chin, tipped it up. His mouth covered hers.
She should have resisted.
She melted.
The kiss awoke the love she'd kept safely banked in her heart. Regina could recall no time when she hadn't loved Gabriel King. Childish devotion had grown into first love, and then to a desire so strong that sometimes she thought she'd die of longing.
A desire still unslaked.
As his lips moved against hers, she moaned. Her hands, of their own volition, crept up to cradle his head, her body cleaved to his, breathed with his. His erection was hard against her belly, a promise and a temptation. Outside, in the summer twilight, an owl called, a lonely sound that echoed the loneliness in her heart.
Again his cane clattered to the floor. "Damn," he breathed against her lips. "Let me--"
She felt his unsteadiness. "Sit down, you idiot, before you fall." She held to him while he stepped backwards to the wide, padded bench.
He pulled her with him, so that when he sat, she tumbled atop him. Before she could move, he had her across his lap, held firmly in his arms. "There was another reason I came home."
"Oh?"
"Later. If I say what I want to, we'll both get mad. Tonight let's just be the friends we used to be."
"I'd like that." She snuggled against his chest. "Tell me about Paris." While she'd somehow missed the itchy feet most of her family had inherited from Pa, she'd always wanted to see Paris.
"Never been there."
"What? You're joshing." She sat up, turned on his knees to face him. "How can you live in Europe and not go to Paris?"
"The luck of the draw. That and the fact that I was originally posted to Athens, so my Greek got better. Then I went to Rome, and brushed up on my Italian. I can get by in French, but it's pretty obvious I'm a tourist." His hand stroked up and down her spine.
Regina wanted to purr. Instead she forced her voice to be light, her tone to be merely curious. "Is that bad?"
"More or less. It's important for me to be able to blend in, and being an Italian or Greek tourist in Paris isn't blending in. So I've never been posted there." His hand slowed its stroking, then settled at her nape. "Do you still enjoy teaching?"
A little shiver tingled its way down her spine. "Mostly. I've been fortunate that every year there have been one or two students who honestly want to learn natural history or chemistry. It makes everything worthwhile. This past year-- What are you doing?"
"Playing with your hair. What about this past year?"
"One of my students--" She gasped as his fingers slipped inside her collar, warm against her skin. "Ga-a-abe!"
"Gina." Once again he covered her mouth with his. But this time it was no simple kiss. His mouth opened over hers, his tongue invaded.
She knew where this could lead, and she knew she should resist. But this was Gabe. The only man she'd ever dreamed of being with for the rest of her life.
Even as her better judgment demanded she repulse his advances, her heart--and her senses--cried out for more. When his hand closed over her breast, she arched against it.
He nibbled, he stroked, he caressed. Everywhere he touched, she burned. When his hand found her knee, bare under her petticoat because she hadn't taken time to put on stockings this busy morning, she moaned with pleasure. Nothing had ever felt so wonderful, so soothing, so exciting.
Nothing had ever scared--or thrilled-- her like this. Why have I waited so long?
Because there had never been anyone like Gabe.
Her legs, clamped together until now, fell apart. And his hand slipped between, found the tender, sensitive skin of her inner thigh.
He touched her, where no one but she had ever touched. The pressure of his fingers was light, but every butterfly touch drove her closer and closer to some unknown territory. When he probed at the entrance to her secret place, she spread her legs even more widely, inviting, pleading him to enter.
And then he stopped, withdrew his hand. Pulled her skirt over her knees.
"Gabe!"
"Shhh. This is no place to be... Where can we go?" His lips hovered scant millimeters from hers.
"Nowhere." Common sense re-established itself. She slid off his lap, stepped to the window that faced the river. "When Lulu told me she and Tony were getting married--having to get married--I was outraged. Not that they'd...been intimate. But that they'd been irresponsible. I vowed I would never be that careless."
"There are ways--"
She spun back to face him, her fists clenched at her sides. "I know that." With a deep breath, she forced voice back from the shriek that threatened. "I seem to have discovered a straight-laced streak in myself, Gabe. Right there beside the wanton one."
His teeth gleamed in a quick grin. "Wanton? I like the sound of that."
"Don't count your chickens." A flutter of white caught her eye from the direction of the stables. The barn owl she'd seen before, most likely, out for his nightly hunt. Keeping her head turned so he couldn't see her eyes, she said, "I won't deny that I am curious. That you made me feel...hungry. That I've begun doubting I'll ever marry. I don't think I want to die a virgin."
His chuckle sounded strained. "Well, I hope
you know I'd be happy to help you remedy that."
He sounded so hopeful, so much like the boy she'd loved since before she could remember, that she had to smile. "I'm sure you would."
"Gina, come here." He held out his arms.
She hesitated, then went to him. Once she was comfortable on his lap again, she leaned her head on his wide shoulder. "Gabe?"
"Hmmm?"
"No one ever comes here. It's my private place. Everyone knows that. I needed somewhere of my own, and Pa didn't want me to move away. So he and Ma promised that they'd never come here without an invitation. Neither will anyone else."
His body went taut. "You're sure?"
"Of course I'm not sure. I'm terrified, if you want the truth. Tomorrow I'll probably feel as if I should be wearing sackcloth and ashes."
He said nothing, but his body lost none of its tension.
"Kiss me?"
He did, with a gentle thoroughness that brought a lump to her throat. How could she ever doubt that he loved her?
He hadn't been home in a long time. What if he never came back again?
Whatever she decided, she would be hurt. So would he.
With that realization came decision.
I won't regret this. Or maybe I will, but... It's time.
Gabe wasn't sure he believed her about the gazebo being private. Even if it was, the windows were merely screened, and anyone standing close could see inside. Yet how could he resist? He hadn't seen her naked since they'd been children, swimming in the river. A lot he'd cared then, for her body had been skinny and straight and no different from a boy's, except she hadn't had a dingle.
She was neither skinny nor straight now.
His fingers were clumsy on the small buttons of her shirtwaist. Hers stumbled at the buttons of his shirt. Whenever their mouths met, time stopped, hands clung.
The sky was full dark and filled with stars before their clothes lay in an untidy heap on the floor. Gabe reclined on the bench, with her half covering him, like a warm, living blanket. The bench was too narrow for them to lie side by side, not that he was complaining. He fought back the imperious demand of his body and resumed stroking her back. "Gina, be sure. If we-- This will change everything."
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