Chapter Thirteen
Hours had passed since Gabriel and Ariah’s encounter. Abandoning himself to profound thought, he lurked beneath the archway while he watched Ariah and Emmaline contentedly sleep. Their bodies were pressed together and melded in a sweet spooning position. Exhaling a stiff breath, he leaned against the doorjamb and shut both eyes. Images from the nightmare flashed inside his mind: Lisette’s broken body, the blood-stained snow, her dark hair streaming across the ground, the wretched sound of his voice as he sobbed her name …
Papa will come home tonight, won’t he? He promised he would. He promised he would read to me.
His heart stirred, ever at war, as he recalled Ariah’s tender words: I see a man who is still handsome, who is noble, and who is, above all other things, a fighter.
Over the last few weeks, Ariah Larochelle had touched something deep inside Gabriel. Something he’d believed was long dead and buried. Her delicate beauty, her compassion, their strangely unified and kindred spirit … they’d stirred a dormant fervor in his soul. He wished for true intimacy and connection. Even more, he yearned for the comfort of a family – to no longer be imprisoned by the ghosts of his past. And Ariah was wounded like himself. He ached to uncover her secrets and guide her from whatever horrors she’d endured. He ached to tell her the whole, unadulterated truth … to disclose the horrors of his past and Jacques’s death.
Could she be mine?
Rays of hope glittered inside his heart and set his emotions ablaze. But first, he could no longer hide from himself. He could not move forward while held back by chains.
Turning away from Ariah and Emmaline, Gabriel wandered into the drawing room. Unblinking, he stared into the hearth as the firewood perversely crumbled, split, and blackened.
Heart beating at full force, he grasped onto the mantel and summoned his inner courage. He knew what had to be done.
As one of Napoleon’s renowned colonels, Gabriel recognized the intricate qualities that measured a soldier’s greatness: the wisdom to surrender and the courage to sacrifice.
Tonight, he would free himself.
Tonight, he would confront his inner demons.
•
It was half past two in the morning when Gabriel departed from the home. Fingers of darkness crawled through the dank alleyways and skittered across the cobblestones. Low-hanging clouds blanketed the skyline as streams of moonlight illuminated the jagged horizon. On this night, the rows of shops resembled soldiers awaiting their colonel’s command. Far in the distance, glimpses of Paris’s domes and spires jutted into pure darkness. Even with a kilometer or so between them, the grandiose monuments of the city dwarfed the slim alleyways.
Gabriel quickly found that his assertion had been accurate. Ariah’s district was a poor one. Homeless wretches clustered about a small fire as they fought off the chill, an abundance of garbage and stray animals littered the walkways, and wounded soldiers roamed the alleyway with outstretched palms and haunted eyes.
Steadying his nerves, Gabriel secured the satchel in place after it slipped from his shoulder. He absently tracked his right hand over the worn leather, paying sentiment to the items that lay within. With each step, his boots echoed and his heart raced. Swaying in the breeze, lanterns flickered overhead and tossed long shadows across the stone walls.
Soon the alleyway gave way to a wide boulevard. He was getting closer to home; with each step, the buildings appeared newer, bigger … fewer animals infested the walkways, and fewer soldiers were found.
Gabriel turned a sharp corner and nearly ran straight into a prostitute. She gasped and clutched at her chest. As she regained her composure, he instinctively moved backward several paces, easing into the surrounding shadows. He hadn’t bothered with the wretched bandages, and his entire deformity was in sight. The street lanterns flickered, encircling her within a faint illumination. She awarded him a decadent smile and allowed the moth-eaten shawl to slide from her shoulders. Her flesh appeared creamy and whiter than snow beneath those wavering pools of light.
“Where you off to in such a hurry, monsieur? Give me a few minutes of your time and I’ll make it worth your while.” She reached forward and playfully grabbed hold of his sleeve. Her eyes narrowed, drinking in the ornaments that decorated his greatcoat. “A soldier, eh? Allow me to repay your service in kind …” With an insistent tug, she attempted to reel him closer. But he planted his boots in place, remaining as coarse and immovable as stone. A husky laugh echoed in the darkness. Then she grinned wide – exposing a gap-toothed smile that was admittedly endearing. “Aw, why the long scowl, handsome? Wouldn’t you like a welcoming pair of arms to warm you on this cold winter’s night?”
Gabriel obliged, stepped forward, and said nothing – allowing his face to speak. He felt the glow illuminate his marred skin. The whore squinted her eyes, as if not quite believing what she saw. With an uttered cry, she freed his coat and stumbled backward. As if fighting off a chill, she grasped onto the shawl and fisted the ragged material between quivering fingertips.
She behaved as though she’d seen a monster.
Gabriel rewarded her with a twisted grin. “Where’s your bravado gone to so suddenly? Hmm? It’s a cold night indeed, and I’d pay handsomely for a few hours of mindless fucking.”
She blessed herself with the sign of the cross and muttered a jumble of incoherent words. Gabriel leaned forward and plucked a chain from her bodice. A small crucifix dangled in midair. Swallowing the nearby beams, its grimy surface absorbed the lanterns’ light.
“Why am I not surprised? Allow me to impart a little secret: you can’t be saved. None of us can.”
What had compelled him to ridicule her so? God’s teeth, he certainly had no right to judge – he wasn’t grander than a common whore by any stretch of the imagination. It was the disgust in her face, he concluded. And the judgment in her eyes.
The blasphemy was too much for the whore to bear. Anger shadowed her eyes, and red-hot rage splattered her cheekbones. Scoffing, she wrenched the crucifix from his fingers. “The devil take you! You are a demon!” Then she turned away and receded down the alleyway without another glance.
Walking alongside the River Seine, Gabriel plunged both hands inside his pockets and continued on his way.
It would be several kilometers until he reached his destination.
•
Thirty minutes later, Gabriel’s breath hitched as he gazed upon his former home. Mon Dieu, he hadn’t stepped foot on this soil for over eleven years. And yet the memories remained crude and raw.
Though slightly dilapidated, the property was every bit as grand as he remembered. The chateau was located just off Élysée, one of Paris’s wealthiest arrondissements, and had much to show for it. Pale stone walls ascended into a velvet sky and scraped against the heavens. Vines strangled the columns in a deathly embrace, twisting up the smooth stonework like serpents. The grass was many years overgrown, cloaking the façade beneath a vast, untamed wilderness.
One of the chateau’s charms and curses was its seclusion; the nearest home was over an acre away, leaving the hustle and bustle of high society far from reach. Shortly before departing for the war, he’d sold the chateau to the government, who seemed to have forgotten about it. He’d needed a way to detach himself from the memories, to purge himself of its horrors. Afterward, Gabriel had sentenced himself to a self-imposed, personal exile. When he wasn’t fighting and ascending the ranks, he’d contented himself with shabby inns, whores, and mindless travel.
Gabriel’s breaths misted the night air. They grew increasingly labored as he edged closer to the chateau. Without any lights, it was impossibly dark … and yet he felt secure within the dank void. He circled the premises, stepping over the wild brush and weeds, tracking the mansion’s looming curves. The chateau had remained vacant over the years – its dilapidated, unkempt appearance told Gabriel as much – and it stood as a poor imitation of its former glory.
Heart banging against his rib cage,
Gabriel drew to a dead standstill. He cocked his head back and gazed at a pair of enormous windows. The house was pitch black inside, and those windows returned his stare like two empty sockets in a death’s-head. One of them had been shattered – likely the result of a break in. A morbid idea bloomed inside Gabriel’s mind. Digging a hand into the satchel, he withdrew a gilded flask, downing a swig of brandy for courage. Then he adjusted his satchel and continued his pursuit.
His boots seemed to be filled with lead as he paced toward the broken window. He fetched a rock from the ground, approached a lower window, and smashed in the glass. It shattered, leaving a gaping hole in its wake. Gabriel threw the rock aside, inhaled two more mouthfuls, and climbed through the opening.
Darkness swirled around him as he wandered through the endless corridors. Shafts of moonlight speared through countless windows, illuminating his pathway like lighthouse beacons. Broken furniture, amputated tables, and tattered rugs hulked within the darkness. The planks emitted eerie creaks as he edged up the winding spiral staircase. Gripping onto either side of the railing, his hands slid across the wooden banister with each step. Thick dust caked his palms. He clapped them together and gave a sharp cough as the debris filled his lungs.
Heart racing, he tracked down the corridor. It was blacker than pitch, only the occasional window relieving the darkness. Then he eased inside Lisette’s bedchamber and held his breath.
As if in warning, the door gave a defiant creak. Cobwebs hung from every corner and dust particles covered the strewn toys and furniture. The draperies were sprawled across the floorboards like a pair of unfurled, torn wings. Most of the items hadn’t been looted by trespassers. He wasn’t surprised. After all, children’s toys were hardly valuable commodities. And yet, through his eyes, each one was worth more than all the king’s gold.
He eased toward the small bed and ran his fingers over the faded sheets. Sitting on the edge of the mattress, he shut his eyes and imagined tucking his daughter into bed for the night. Swallowing deeply, he pried open the satchel and removed one of the keepsakes: a miniature of Lisette.
Moonlight illuminated her smiling features and brought her eyes to life. With a profound ache, Gabriel passed a trembling fingertip over the smooth glass. His hand violently shook as he fought to steady his breathing. Then his fingers took the form of an unyielding fist and burrowed into his palm. His nails grated back and forth, back and forth, slicing through the scarred flesh. Blood welled the crevices and dirtied his finger pads.
Then a flash of light ensnared his attention. Gabriel set down the miniature and adjusted his languid posture. In the center of the nightstand stood Lisette’s favorite toy. His heartbeat picked up pace, and a nostalgic smile curved his lips. Barely breathing, he scooted forward and trailed his bloody fingers over the ornate music box …
Chapter Fourteen
December 1804
The night was a black and unforgiving void. No stars dared shine overhead; no beams of moonlight illuminated the barren walkways. Even the trees were naked and vulnerable. They stood as sparse, skeletal silhouettes among an eternal darkness. The ghostly breath of winter wafted through their limbs, manipulating the branches with devious caresses.
Tucked behind an apartment’s remote walls, Gabriel and his mistress entwined their bodies in a torrid twist of sweat, sex, and brandy. Cigar smoke clouded the atmosphere in a dense haze, obscuring everything. The headboard moaned as the entire bed was violated by a volley of deep thrusts.
Drunk out of his wits, Gabriel stared down at Charlotte’s splayed form with numb detachment. Fiery red hair was slathered across the pillows and drenched with sweat from root to tip. Crimson lips were drawn into an expression of mingled pain and pleasure as purrs rang inside her throat. With each thrust, her voluptuous, pale breasts jostled in time with Gabriel’s lovemaking. If one could call it such a thing.
“Mmm … oui … baise moi …”
Slender arms snaked around his torso, forcing his sweat-lined chest firmly against her own. She arched her body into a taut bow and clamped onto his shoulders. Her muscles tensed. Long nails clawed at his back, digging into the undulating skin, as she reached her crescendo. A growl resonated inside Gabriel’s chest. Then he shoved her against the mattress and increased the force of his thrusts. Rivulets of sweat rained from his brow and stung his eyes like acid rain. In a hasty, detached motion, he wiped them away with the back of his wrist. An exotic blend of moans and screams erupted from Charlotte’s lips as he plummeted into her very core – once, twice, three times a charm.
A satisfied groan rose in her throat. When the task was complete, he rolled off her body. He sat on the edge of bed in thoughtful silence for several moments, running his fingertips through the glossy strands of his hair. He tensed at the pressure of Charlotte’s breasts against his nude back. Caressing his sweat-lined torso, she rested her chin atop his shoulder while her breathing regained its normal rhythm. He shrugged her away and reached for his slick boots.
As he stepped into each one, she said, “Must you leave so soon? I was rather enjoying your company.”
Her voice sounded light and airy – though Gabriel knew she fought to keep the desperation at bay. A tinge of guilt welled in his gut. Barely a day over eighteen, Charlotte was young and impressionable; she’d been forced into marriage with a brutish, vile man several months earlier. His and Charlotte’s dalliances had begun as a sort of escape – something that Gabriel continued to perceive as such – and he’d found a decent amount of pleasure in her companionship. She was unfashionably passionate and expressive for a woman, if not a bit selfish, and Gabriel had enjoyed their playtime well enough. Unfortunately, Charlotte was not so detached. Feelings were blooming and he needed to set her straight.
“Come now,” she persisted, “there’s no need to rush off. Gustave won’t be home till morning. He’s wasting away at the tables again.” Then she added with a wry grin, “I’d bet my life on it.” She giggled at her humorous attempt and jabbed Gabriel in his side. “What do you say? How about another tumble?” Her lips slid across his neck, leaving a hot, damp trail wherever they touched. Wetting her palm, she reached southward and coiled her fingers around his manhood in a viselike grip. They slid up and down his turgid length, nursing him back to life. “Mmm. Look at you,” she crooned into his ear, “strong as a God, eyes as warm as brandy on a cold winter’s night, and hair like melted drinking chocolate. When I was a girl, that was one of my favorite things, you know. I would devour it each and every night …”
“No, Charlotte. Stop.” Grabbing her wrist, Gabriel shook his head and detached her hand as it worked him. “Enough now.” The command was muttered beneath a stiff breath. Folding both arms over her breasts, she pulled back and narrowed her gaze. An oversized mirror was centered above the vanity. Gabriel observed her reflection as various emotions crossed over her features. “I won’t be returning,” he mumbled at length.
“What?” Her fiery brows knotted in concern. She scooted forward until the curves of her breasts grazed his back. “Am I not to your liking anymore? Is that it?”
Gabriel released a dejected sigh and shook his downcast face. “You are young, chérie. Young and beautiful. Try to understand. I have a family at home. They are my duty. I must – ”
“Family? You speak of your cold-hearted, cunning wife, do you?”
“I speak of my little girl. You shall understand one day, when you have children of your own.”
She scowled as he turned away and gathered his clothing from the floor. The alcohol burdened his movements, making them erratic and unsteady. He cursed and spared a moment to sober himself. If he made haste, he’d return well before Lisette awoke. Perhaps he’d surprise her with a trip to the stream. Gabriel shrugged the dress shirt over his head with an inward smile; he reckoned Lisette would take an instant shine to fishing. While she was a bit timid of new ventures, she had her mother’s curiosity and ambition. Thank God she hadn’t inherited Sybil’s other traits.
&nb
sp; Tense silence poisoned the room as he met Charlotte’s mirrored reflection. Her jade eyes grew wide with disbelief and heartache. Slithering into her night rail, a blush sprinkled her cheeks and accented the fine architecture of her bones. “I am but a dalliance to you, am I not?” Gabriel offered no reply as he worked the clasps of his coat. “I shall resent you forever.” Once more, their gazes merged in the mirror. He saw the pain in her eyes – and realized for the first time that Charlotte had fallen in love with him.
“It’s for the best. I promise you this.” She responded with silence. Cold, wounded silence. Tears tracked down her cheeks as she clasped onto the vanity’s edge. Her nails dug into the polished surface, embedding crescent moons in the intricate design. “You knew it was going to come to this.”
She spun toward him and shoved at his chest with surprising force. “Don’t you dare patronize me! You are a damned hypocrite – nothing more. Now get out! Out of my sight!” Alas, she spoke truth. He was a hypocrite. And a drunk and a liar and a cheat. Gabriel ducked as an exotic perfume bottle sailed past his head. It crashed against the wall, permeated the atmosphere with a nauseating scent, and stained the rosewood panels. Several more bottles somersaulted through the air in rapid succession. Crash. Crash. Crash. “Get out! Get out of my house, you miserable knave!” She grappled with the bejeweled chain around her neck – a present he’d gifted her a month prior – and tore it from her throat. “And take your precious jewels with you!” she yelled, hurling the necklace at his body.
Charlotte’s cries echoed through the apartment as he raced down the winding stairwell and into the night. Never again. From that moment forward, he vowed to become an honest man and a worthy father.
He inhaled the crisp night air. His senses sobered, and relief consumed his mind and body. Preemptively arming himself with a dirk, he climbed into the phaeton’s box seat, intending to arrive home well before the sun ascended.
Finding Gabriel Page 19