Upon Your Return

by Lavender, Marie

  “On one occasion, the merchant we were dealing with tried to cheat us out of our share. He pulled a gun on Grant and would have killed him had I not intervened. Capitaine Hill would make me out to be the hero if he told it, but it was simple. He had become a good friend and I feared for his life. That's all.

  “Afterward, he told me I'd earned all of his trust and respect and that I could leave if I truly wanted my freedom. For the first time in my life, I was allowed to choose for myself the kind of life I wished for. It was the hardest thing I'd ever done. I decided to stay though, and I don't regret it. I made my choice based on my own desires.

  “When the captain gained greater status in society, he presented me with the option of being his valet. He said regrettably a gentleman must have an aide to do the things he'd rather do himself. Of course, a lot of things Capitaine Hill still does for himself. He defies society to a point always.”

  She'd already noticed that about the man. “It is honorable that he allowed himself to befriend you as well.”

  “There was more to it than it seems, petite. I like to think that fate had a hand in it, that destiny brought us to that point in time and forged the bond we now acknowledge as friendship, not unlike the same power that drew you and the captain to one another last night.”

  “Oh, such idealism, Eric. Capitaine Hill was simply in the right place at the right time.”

  He smiled, but it did not reach his eyes. “There are no accidents in life, Mademoiselle. Only fate.”

  She did not reply, but part of her agreed with him. She had always believed in destiny, certain a stronger force existed that controlled the universe and its occurrences. Had something caused her to meet Grant Hill, or was it simply chance? She didn't know.

  As the sun rose high, blessing her face with its splendor, she thought of the unbreakable bond of friendship she'd not only witnessed but heard Eric speak of in reference to his employer. What would it have been like if she had formed a true affinity with a servant in the same manner as Grant and Eric's?

  Her relationship with Rosalie was the closest she had ever come to such a thing. Propriety and social awareness had prevented her from showing anything more.

  She had felt more, much more for Rosalie. Indeed, she would describe it as something very akin to friendship, but she could not express such due to their different positions. Friends were made within the same social circles. That's how it was.

  Deep down she knew otherwise. True emotions were not bound by social hierarchy but forged through connections. Eric and Grant had been lucky in forming such a bond. Custom might dictate that a person's title carry more importance than true and honest feelings. However, love -- either romantic or platonic -- wasn't subject to such custom. If love was real, it could not be broken. She'd always held out this hope for herself that no matter what happened, despite the obstacles, she would find that affinity with another human being. Love would prevail because it was beyond status, or pride, or anything people might use to deny it.

  However abstract, love was infinite and she would find it. Of that, she knew.

  “Mademoiselle!” A boy rushed up to them. “A carriage has arrived. The driver says he is Pierre.”

  Fara's stomach sank. “He works for my uncle. It seems he wishes my return. Eric, it is time you tell your captain I must leave.”

  He nodded and left to find his master.

  Fara shook her head desolately. This, too, was predictable. Things would return to normal as soon as she entered the house. Her uncle would not be happy with her absence either. It was not proper. It was very tiresome to always be so careful.

  “I hear you're leaving us.”

  She turned to see Grant approach her. “Yes, my uncle has sent transportation.”

  “It's a pity. I would have kept you longer.”

  “Oh?” Alarm ran along the back of her neck and raised the hairs in some kind of strange anticipation. What did he mean by that?

  “Oui. I'm sorry I was away so long. The business of being a captain has its moments of tedium.”

  “That's all right. Every position has its disadvantages.”

  He then took her by the hand. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Mademoiselle.”

  “Likewise, Capitaine.”

  “Your carriage awaits, my lady.” He gestured to the vehicle waiting down below at the dock.

  She nodded, barely glancing at her uncle's property, and looked up at him. His face relaxed into an expression of contentment, and she wondered if her departure was the source of it. Had she given him cause to want to be rid of her? The prospect didn't seem fair for she'd never been anything more than herself. Hadn't he just expressed otherwise?

  Fara chastised herself. He was a captain of a ship. His opinion should not matter to her at all -- but strangely it did, and she couldn't find a reason for it.

  She cleared her throat to cease the silence. “I regret to say I never quite thanked you for your most timely interference last night.”

  He grinned. “I think your show of gratitude this morning was quite enough. I require no more, Mademoiselle.”

  She flushed scarlet beneath his captivating gaze. No doubt he referred to that morning, when she awakened in his arms. Like a lady, she should have apologized profusely and probably should still for acting so familiar with a man, but she was certain he would not accept it.

  “Nevertheless, Capitaine, I am grateful for you truly spared me humiliation, if you understand my meaning.”

  He nodded. “I do. But, I suggest you forget the ordeal. They were rogues intent on doing any manner of harm possible, and it is just fortunate you got away.”

  “You are too humble, Capitaine.”

  He shook his head. “Now, Fara, I am sure you must attend to your duties as I must to mine.” He grasped for her hand and lifted it to his lips. “Perhaps we will meet again, Mademoiselle...”

  Like a perfect gentleman, she thought, and was grateful he hadn't done something impulsive.

  “Oui, Monsieur. Perhaps we will. I bid you farewell, Capitaine Hill.”

  He released her hand, and she turned to go, but with a sudden tight grasp of her wrist, he reeled her back. Crushing her against the wall of his chest, Grant covered her lips with his. It was too late to pull away for he held her against him and Fara was lost in the sensation of his kiss.

  Lord, if she'd found the man aesthetically pleasing, his kiss was so much more. She parted her lips on a sigh as he burned her, igniting a fire deep inside in her body.

  She had no time to respond to him completely though. Before she knew it, he'd set her away from him. Gasping for breath, she searched his eyes, expecting to see something akin to triumph. There was only brightness. The deep and dark charcoal she'd witnessed before turned soft and subtle, appearing as the land when the sun comes up and light spills to the ground, staining every surface and contour.

  Fara cleared her throat again, aware that propriety should have mandated she slap him, but she couldn't muster the will to do it. “Goodbye, Grant,” she whispered as she made her way down the gangway to the ground below. Pierre assisted her into the carriage and she turned to stare up at the tall figure of Grant Hill. She wondered if he really was pleased to see her go. Certainly a kiss like that could only mean the opposite.

  * * * *

  Grant frowned. He hadn't been able to resist kissing her, but the main reason for doing so was to see if he could rouse her to anger in a way that repulsed her to the degree she never wanted to look at him again. She had not been angry, only shocked.

  He grinned to himself. It seemed she was a lady, for passion was a new feeling for her. He also knew she couldn't deny their physical attraction for one another. For all her cutting words due to her wounded pride, the woman wanted him regardless of what society might say. The look in her eyes and the way she responded to his kiss told him everything.

  He wondered how her uncle would respond to what had happened to his niece the previous night. From time to time he parti
cipated in higher social circles, and he'd heard stories there. Michel de Bellamont was not a man many people could win over. He was harsh and very serious with his acquaintances and business partners, and Grant could only assume that carried over into his relationship with Fara. Being a blood relative made no difference.

  Though France was mainly Catholic in its beliefs, it was a country where people from many backgrounds merged, exchanging ideas and entertaining new forms of thought. At least, for the most part.

  On the other hand, Michel de Bellamont's position, he had heard, stemmed from his harsh Catholic background and his deep social awareness. He was an impenetrable kind of man; Grant's sources had given him that much information.

  From what he knew of Michel de Bellamont, the man reminded him much of his own father.

  He’d come from a mixed background. His father, an Englishman, had met his mother, a young French woman straight from the convent, while on a tour of duty as a lieutenant for the British army.

  His family lived in England until, at a tender age, he lost both parents to a bout of cholera. Up to that point in his life, he had been partial to his mother for she had doted on him immensely. His father seemed indifferent, viewing his son as a hindrance to his lifestyle with the military and his social position.

  Unfortunately, he was too young when his parents died and could not take over his family's title or estate.

  The local orphanage practically threw him out into the streets; however, their negligence gave him a taste of both sides of the social scale.

  He found he did not like many of the aspects of maintaining one's position in society and soon developed a tendre for the maritime industry.

  When he was of age, he had the option of joining the military. Though it would increase his social status, he scorned the idea of becoming his father and worked doubly hard to attain a position as captain. He apprenticed for years under a man he grew to respect regardless of his dislike for French half-bloods. Captain Smith had, despite the struggle he endured, taught him everything he needed to know to survive at sea and within the business of trade.

  As soon as he acquired his own ship and a crew, he worked as a tradesman in several ports and returned to France as often as possible. He'd always carried an affinity for the shores, somehow feeling closer to his mother through his dealings in her homeland. He preferred it over England anyway. Since he'd lost his parents, he hadn't had a real home and France, he felt, was as close as he could get.

  Now, as he stood at the bridge, looking out over his crew and beyond to the endless fathoms of sea, he could admit he loved France even though there were some things about the culture of which he disapproved. For one, it was incredibly hard to attain any kind of status in French society.

  Maneuvering among the upper crust had its advantages and disadvantages. Through no extra effort on his part, he had acquired the respect of the emperor when he had visited France the first few times after leaving England. He'd done some favors for the man, and that small act opened up a world of opportunity with regards to his trade dealings. He had even attended a masque and was invited to the house of an aristocrat a time or two.

  He usually found most of the events a bore.

  The other thing that bothered him about France was the overall ethnocentric belief in the culture -- that the French had the best culture of all in the world, and it could not be questioned.

  He had been around the world, though, and he could not agree. Some kind of eclectic immersion of different cultures would do them good. However, because of this snobbery, he refrained from drawing any attention to his English heritage, not to mention he would rather forget that portion of his life.

  When people inquired of his past, he only mentioned his mother's origins in France and nothing more.

  Often he wondered, though, if repressing everything about himself in order to function in society was worth it. Probably not.

  * * * *

  Fara let out a long breath as the carriage stilled its movement and Pierre helped her down. She headed toward the house with its tall, foreboding columns and halted when Rosalie opened the door to greet her. Fara found herself enveloped in the woman's arms.

  “Bébé, we were so worried about you!”

  She pulled away with a slight smile. “All of you?”

  The woman hesitated, and they both knew that one person probably had not been all that worried, at least not on an emotional level. “Oui, of course,” Rosalie said. “Come now. Your uncle is expecting you.”

  Fara nodded and reluctantly followed the woman inside the house. She led her to the library, where her uncle was attending to business.

  He had a pile of papers before him, and he seemed to study them closely.

  When she stood before his desk, he looked up at her.

  “Please be seated, niece, while I have a look at you. We have much to discuss.”

  She obeyed him. His method of discussion would involve a reprimand for her actions during the previous night.

  He stood from his chair and rounded the desk to approach her. “You left so soon after dinner last night, Fara.”

  “Oui, oncle. I received a message from someone.”

  “And yet you neglected to tell me of this. You denied me the obligation of escorting you as well.” He frowned. “It is not very ladylike of you to do such a thing, to go to a place alone. Imagine how it must look to others.”

  She had to refrain from rolling her eyes. The man was always concerned with how society might view him. “I understand your concern, oncle. But, I was to meet someone who could be trusted to play the escort for me.”

  “This is not the theatre, niece. It is an obligation to escort a lady; it is not a role.” He sighed. “If this person was kind enough to escort you, you could have come straight home.”

  “I had no say in the matter. Besides, La Capitaine Hill sent you a message of my whereabouts.”

  “Oui. But staying with a strange man aboard his ship? It's unacceptable. And how are you acquainted with him?”

  “I only met him last night. We had not known one another before.”

  “I suppose you remained in his cabin as well?”

  She knew it was a sarcastic comment, but she could not lie to him. She swallowed audibly. “Oui, oncle.”

  “Mon Dieu, child! Why, the prospects of such a liaison are...are...”

  “What?”

  He narrowed his gaze at her. “Scandalous!”

  “I realize that, but the man deserves some gratitude for keeping me. He was the perfect gentleman.” She tried to forget about that abrupt kiss; he certainly hadn't acted indifferent toward her. And he certainly was not the kind of man to apologize for stealing a kiss, however tempting that kiss had been. She shook the thought from her head.

  “Oui, I'm certain the captain of a trade ship knows about gallantry.”

  “Your sarcasm is misplaced, oncle. He saved my life last night as well as my reputation.”

  He frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “Mon Dieu! Do you really think I would accept that man's proposal without reason? You must be mad!”

  “Lower your voice, niece. I am the law in this house and you will bend to me.”

  She looked down at the floor. “I am sorry. Forgive me, oncle. I only mean to say I have better scruples than that, and you are not aware of the circumstances.”

  He shook his head as if disappointed. “What happened last night then?”

  “I received a note to meet Monsieur Le Croíx at the docks. When I showed up, he was not there. Perhaps you would like to call upon him to find out why he set me up.”

  “Set you up for what?”

  “To be ravished or worse…even murdered. Two men appeared and they were quite rough. My fiancé, the man you seemed to approve of, supposedly hired them. Or so they said.” She looked up to see his eyes widen with something like fear. “Nothing happened, for Capitaine Hill showed up to rescue me.”

  “I see. These men accosted y
ou. Obviously you needed protecting and I owe him for that. Why did he not escort you home then?”

  “It was impossible. I was unconscious, for one of the men had hit me. When I woke, I was on the ship. The captain had known nothing about me and yet he chose to take me in.”

  “To tend to his own pleasures, I am sure...”

  She gasped, infuriated. “I assure you he has better morals. He is more of a gentleman than you think. I was dressed like a lady, so it is not as if I tempted him.”

  He shook his head sadly. “You are naïve, child…”

  “I was left untouched except for this obvious wound from the attack.” She gestured to her jaw.

  His eyes narrowed, as if suddenly studying it, and she wondered how he hadn't noticed it before.

  “So his intentions were honorable...?”

  “Oui.”

  “It makes sense that you defend your hero, but I advise you not to lose sight of reality, niece.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Do not confuse your gratitude with something else. I shall look into Monsieur Le Croix’s part in this charade. If he's guilty, I have other suitors lined up for you. I haven't given up yet. This Capitaine Hill is just a man...a stranger who rescued you by the mere coincidence of his presence during a random attack. That is all he will ever be to you. A stranger.”

  “Why? Because he is not my suitor?”

  “He is a captain, my child, and nothing more. He is only invited to socials because he has done a favor for the emperor a time or two. His family is not alive; no one knows of his financial status. He could never make you happy when his trade continually calls him away. You would only be miserable the rest of your life. Also, I will not forget that you refrained from informing me of your plans last night. Do you understand?”

  She lowered her head. It was evident that during the time she'd been absent her uncle had gathered as much information as he could about Grant Hill.