Upon Your Return

by Lavender, Marie

  Suddenly, the front door burst open and a gust of wind flowed into the great hall. It had stormed for most of the day.

  Madame Devereux glanced up immediately. “Monsieur Hill, how kind of you to make an appearance! Come and say hello to some nice gentlemen. Of course, you and the lady are already acquainted.”

  Grant shut the door and met Madame Devereux at the edge of the library. His dark and questing eyes roved over Fara's blue silk gown as she stood before the fireplace, his gaze touching lightly on her exposed shoulders. As the mistress of the house made her introductions, Fara felt the tension rise inside of her as she noticed the gray of his eyes was more prominent. Her stomach muscles clenched tight on fear as she saw the danger lurk in his stance, and noted the missing button from his navy overcoat and a purplish stain appearing on the line of his jaw.

  Something has happened. She forced herself to smile as one of Lina's guests made a jest. She wondered if anyone else had noticed Grant's disheveled state. Fara assumed if they did, they were too proud and much too proper to admit it. Conversation turned to a carefree tone, touching on subjects like people Madame Devereux had seen in the market the previous day, and Fara began to wonder when Grant would tell her what had happened. She had her answer a moment later when he moved to her side and slipped a casual arm about her waist. She was so focused on the tension she felt in his body that her head spun when he said his next words.

  “Madame Devereux...I was just about to propose that I accompany Mademoiselle Perét about the gardens, if you do not mind.”

  Lina's smile was answer enough, and perfectly obvious of what she expected to happen while they were away. Most respectable gentlemen might propose marriage in such an instance. “Of course. You are all my guests,” she said easily, as if it explained everything. Fara had to admit she was the perfect socialite.

  Grant nodded and guided Fara away from the group. Once they reached the back steps of the house that led to the gardens she'd wandered about on her first day there, he turned to face her. “I must speak with you, Fara. It is urgent.”

  “I know. You made that quite obvious.” She sighed. “You missed the evening meal. I was worried, Grant, that something...oh, never mind. Have you eaten anything?”

  For the first time since he'd entered the house, a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “I've dined. I am sorry to have caused you any concern. Tis' nothing.”

  “Nothing!” She reached up to touch the bruise, lying like a bluish substance on a healthy surface. “You call this nothing. I'd like to know what something is.”

  Grant seemed to flinch at her touch, and then he caught her wrist gently. He pulled her back into the gardens. “You need not be concerned, Fara. I've been on my own a long time.” He dropped her wrist resolutely.

  “I'm well aware of that. But, I think you'd better explain yourself.”

  For a moment, he didn't speak. He watched her quietly, seeming intent on the movement she'd made by crossing her arms over her bosom. He sighed. “I'm not used to answering to anyone, Fara. No one. I am certain you can understand that. I didn't want to frighten you with how I entered the house tonight, but it seems I did. Mon Dieu...you should have seen your eyes when I joined the group. I wanted to crush you, hold you against me until that look vanished and something pleasant replaced it. I've never seen such fear.”

  “Oui, I am sure you have. You've at least felt it before, and don't deny it.” She felt for somewhere to sit, and settled for the rim of the fountain, which encompassed a single statue of cherubs. When she was seated, she looked up at him. “Grant, perhaps you should tell me who hit you.”

  “Tis' nothing.”

  “If you do not treat me as someone worthy of your time, Grant Hill, then I will leave you in this garden and you'll not find a way into my bedchamber again.”

  He chuckled softly at her threatening tone. “I believe you, Mademoiselle. However, there is much more at stake.”

  Dear God. It was something indeed if Grant would dismiss the physical side of their relationship. Her anger quickly turned to resolve. “They…found you?” The authorities were after him now in full force; it was not a comforting thought.

  He nodded. “This,” he indicated the bruise on his face with a single index finger, “was a mere warning...which is why I need to see that you are safe.”

  “You said it was nothing,” she reminded him.

  “They are, however, accusing me of the treachery you mentioned before. Many men are often punished and sent to their deaths in their innocence.”

  It was an attempt to justify his actions, but she already knew he was not innocent of what he was incriminated of. “You're leaving...soon.” She felt lost, that idle heart inside of her suddenly straining to break free. “I was afraid of this.”

  “Oui, at dawn. By tomorrow at dusk, they will have searched Madame Devereux's dwelling in order to find me. It's the only way...”

  “Then, of course, I will come with you.” She was silenced as his finger rested upon her lips. When he met her level, he sat back on his heels to balance himself. “I am being foolish. I know you cannot take me...” she broke off, close to tears.

  “We are still at war, this Godforsaken country. It is best now that you stay with family, my love, with someone who may care for you if you are ever in need.”

  “Lina does not know I'm her family, Grant!”

  He caught her face between his palms. “Then, perhaps you will tell her of that relation, only if it is entirely necessary,” he answered softly. “I will, of course, provide for you in the meantime.”

  “Provide?”

  “I have arranged an account you may have use of and I will leave the information with you before I go. There is a man I trust who you can contact if you need anything.”

  “I don't want your money. That's not why I'm with you.”

  He shrugged. “It is still there if you have need of it.”

  Pain filled her entire being, and she only wanted to beg him to take her with him. She detested her weakness and refused to let him see it. Instead, she latched onto pride. It was all she had left if she could neither have the man she loved nor the father of her unborn child. Fara blinked back her tears. Grant no doubt expected her to be a prima donna...to plead, to faint, to burst into sobs at a whim if not anything else, and then expect him to seduce her...to give up her body in the name of protection. She had always despised such ladies, the dramatic senselessness of it all. Mon Dieu, she had almost played the part. “All right,” she agreed softly, still regaining her composure.

  A frown gathered between his eyebrows. “Fara... you know I am leaving you behind and nothing is certain? That if I return, it may not be soon at all?”

  She swallowed back the rise of tears. “Oui, I know. I am not stupid, I do happen to be educated.” Her voice sounded cold, even impersonal, and she hoped he hadn't heard it.

  He lifted a brow. “You did not drink too much wine at dinner, did you?”

  In fact, she had had nothing besides flavored water to drink. “I'm not drunk, Grant.”

  He was silent for so long that she began to worry. “Is there someone else...another man?”

  This idea repulsed her. That he would actually think she might be disloyal to him was preposterous. But, was it better to send him off on a voyage thinking he'd miss a lover or much better to send him brewing up a storm because she would have him think she no longer had need of him? If he left his lover behind, there would always be a reason to come back. But, if he left a cold-blooded wench with no thought in her head except causing pain to all men by breaking vows, then he would move on.

  There was also the child to consider. The little one deserved a father. If Grant left and planned to return, she would wait and wait for years without word from him and definitely have no father figure for her son or daughter. By the time he returned, he would see her and a child. He would not know whose it was. On the other hand, if he was told she'd deceived him in any way, he would move on and she
would be free to roam in social circles, perusing the land for a potential husband. The latter seemed truly selfish, which was something she'd tried hard to avoid. So, she was left to think of her child and lover. Grant and the unborn babe needed each other in the end. He would make an exceptional father someday, she mused. But, she could not tell him that yet.

  “No,” she finally answered.

  He pulled her up from the fountain bench with infinite strength. “You're keeping a secret, my love,” he murmured as his lips found hers, seeking and inevitably finding that sweet bliss which could only be found in a kiss. Against her lips, he said, “No, you're not seeing someone else, but it is a secret nonetheless...” When he pulled away, his forehead rested against hers. “It's all right. We all have secrets. Let us hope yours isn't too serious.” He sighed. “Tell me you will miss me...”

  Lying to him about the child is enough; I cannot lie to him about everything, she thought. “I'll miss you.”

  “...and that you'll need me even while I'm away.”

  “I will.”

  “Wait for me, Fara...” he breathed shallowly, as if it was his last breath.

  Tears filmed her eyes. For all the fight she'd put up, she couldn't have held it in any longer. That moisture ran like tracks down her cheeks. “I promise,” she wailed. “Oh, damn you...go already, will you!”

  * * * *

  She tried to turn away, but he reeled her back in.

  “Not so fast.”

  Grant pressed her young body against his. He'd had time to see that those last words had not been in anger but in self-contempt. To think that she'd tried to mask her pain with pretense all so that she could look strong and then hated herself for failing only warmed his heart. He regretted having had negative thoughts of her, if only for a moment. And he regretted having to leave her so soon before he got to know this woman inside and out. He'd met her almost five months ago, but every moment he spent with her was like the first. He wondered if he would ever tire of her; exposing each section of exquisite flesh was too new for words. He'd wondered if he would ever know her body completely, know her mind, her heart, her soul. It seemed now futile, however, since in mere hours he would sail away again and long to be back in her arms.

  Grant scooped her into his arms, his lips clinging to her own, and carried her back into the house. In her bedchamber, he loved her as well as he knew how, took more time with her than he'd ever taken with a woman. With each piece of clothing he removed, he trailed his lips reverently over her until she sighed. He kissed her softly, moved his body over hers so deftly, the union so perfect that even he was undone. When she reached the pinnacle, she cried out. As soon as he'd pulled them both to release and he shuddered with the aftershocks of such passion, he eased her beside him.

  Grant looked down at Fara. She lay curled into the bedclothes and a soft smile played on her full lips.

  She was dreaming now; he could tell by the way she moaned and mumbled in her sleep. He held her close for some time, muttering confused thoughts, before he rose to fulfill his duty as captain once more.

  * * * *

  Fara stirred upon the large bed and stretched. The sunlight streamed through the dark red curtains covering the doorway onto the balcony. They seemed to bounce in the breeze with something akin to childlike wonder. She, however, felt far from delighted. The vulnerable skin beneath her eyes felt tender and swollen. In an instant, she was taken back to the previous night. She'd shut her eyes against the pain of his departure as Grant had held her in his arms long after they'd made love. Her breathing had slowed to the soft, contented and occasional sigh of a sated lover, and she'd assumed he thought her asleep. He was still breathing rapidly and alarm ran along her supposedly numb senses. She kept her eyes closed, almost afraid if she opened them he might be gone.

  “Fara?” Grant asked softly. He sighed, and then asked, “Mon trésor?”

  My treasure, a sweet and loving endearment. For some reason, she could not answer him. Her emotions warred inside of her. She felt a sigh of relief go through him, and she felt his lips at her temple.

  “This is going to be hard for you and for me as well. I have to leave and God help me...I cannot seem to let you go. It hurts too much. I wish I could make you a promise, something to improve your current status. I would like to give you the protection of my name before I leave, but I don't see how it would help if something happened to me. Besides, your pride would neither tolerate a marriage vow in the name of protection or convenience. If you happen to find another suitor...perchance you meet someone, a man who is willing to give you everything, perhaps even love, I would not blame you if you took a lover or a husband. No, I would not blame you.” His lips grazed each eyelid. “Sleep well...and live well, my love.” He gently eased away from her.

  She fought the onslaught of tears and unbearable pain as she heard him dress. When the close of the door signaled his departure, tears ran freely down her cheeks but the tightness around her heart remained. Wrenching sobs defeated her and she curled into a tight ball and cried into a pillow that served to remind her of the love they'd just made. She wasn't sure when she'd fallen asleep, but it was obvious now that she had. She remembered staring at that door in the darkness of the room only lit by a slit of moonlight through the curtains, praying that Grant might come back. Her heart had refused to realize his current obligations, but now she knew them well.

  Fara would miss him with an ache she was certain would take an eternity to ease away. He didn't have to worry about her finding someone else. But, he did have duties to fulfill, those which didn't involve her and surely hadn't before they'd met. And the law still considered him a traitor. Both facts did not help to ease the wrenching pain she felt now that Grant was gone.

  There were still many hours left before Rosalie would attempt to wake her, many hours before her duties as guest would apply. Because it was too painful to reflect on past events even more, she rose, washed and dressed in a gown of lilac hue with ivory trim. As she passed the vanity, a white glint caught her eye and she turned back to see a note he'd left with the name of an accountant and where she could find him. Shutting her eyes against the pain that he had indeed tried to protect her from even as he left, she proceeded downstairs to the kitchen, where she requested a meager breakfast from the cook. Crying had made her appetite lessen.

  After leaving with her meal wrapped in a linen napkin, she explored the gardens, taking note of the statues she hadn't had a chance to observe the night before. Though a few icons of saints were strewn about, she noticed the perversity of the other statues. Each one displayed acts that would only be performed in the privacy of one's bedroom. Perhaps Monsieur Devereux, her aunt's husband, had been a passionate man as well. This was indeed a garden for couples. It was no wonder Grant had been enticed to make love to her, though he had exhibited such behavior in the past for no reason other than her mere presence.

  Fara sat down on a stone bench. She felt numb, lost even, at the thought of him being gone. Would she ever feel anything again? She'd had a similar experience after her uncle's death, but now, heartbreak had been added to her loss -- a heartbreak so severe it could not be healed by a few months of mourning.

  The difference between her grief for the loss of her uncle and Grant's leaving was staggering. She had loved her uncle, but she never felt close to him. She tolerated his impassive behavior. While the absence of his presence was strange, her life was easier without him continually dictating to her.

  With Grant, there were a few things about the man that frustrated her: his persistence, his teasing manner when she was serious, and the strange fact that he was now a traitor to his country. Everything else about him she admired and loved. His passion, though intense, was somehow welcoming. The respect he showed toward his men was inspiring. The way he never let society dictate his actions; instead personal convictions motivated what he chose to do. Even though she didn't condone it, she would always admire the courage it took to trade with the enemy despite
the risks. She feared she would never know how he'd felt about her, and perhaps it might have only been desire that made him stay with her, but it didn't matter. She still loved him.

  Hours later, Madame Devereux pulled her from the gardens, requesting her presence at tea. There were many guests curious about Grant's proposal. Somehow, Fara hadn't thought about the questions to be asked because of his invitation to the gardens. Yet the guests need for details seemed insatiable, and she had none with which to supply. A small measure of the truth would perhaps suffice for now.

  “Monsieur Hill has left the city for a while on business. I'm not sure when he will return.”

  The ladies in the room offered their comfort, but it did not ease the ache she felt inside. She felt that idle words never would.

  That evening, as she and Lina sat down to dinner alone, since the others had diverse affairs to tend to, there was a commotion in the house.

  “What on earth is going on?” At the sound of breaking glass, her aunt rose and slowly walked into the other room.

  A few minutes later, two men in uniform appeared in the doorway of the dining room. Fara's stomach rolled. So, they knew he had disappeared. Nothing would ever be the same again. Her heart leaped into her throat as they stepped toward her with purpose.

  * * * *

  It had been twenty-four hours since Grant's departure and now she was being interrogated. It was not uncommon for authorities to resort to questioning a woman, but surely her social status meant something. The man before her was the same officer who had confronted her in the carriage. “Come, Mademoiselle. Cooperate with us. What did Capitaine Hill say to you before he left? Where did he say he was going?”

  She frowned. “I do not know what you're talking about. He told me nothing.”

  “You saw him last. There were witnesses…”