The Dreamer (The Fall Series)

by Abbey, May Nicole

  His brows descended. “Why? So you could run back to Tucker?”

  I said nothing.

  “You’re infatuated with him, aren’t you?” His voice became fierce, though I suppose he thought it could be mistaken for jealousy.

  “Infatuated!” I laughed. “How can you ask that, knowing me as you do? Infatuation is not in my makeup, I assure you. My attachments to other people are never very strong. The treasure down there, now that I understand.”

  “Don’t deny it. You’ve made it plain enough. I would be a fool not to see it. The way you hide behind Finley every time I try to get close to you.”

  “Alright,” I said evenly, gently disengaging my arm from his fierce grip. “What if I told you I do love him? And I want to return to him. You have your treasure, all that you want, so you can let me go now ….”

  “Non! I don’t have all I want,” he bit at me, and seized my arm again, a thin, white ring around his tight mouth.

  I shrank from him, and he immediately froze. He released me and walked away a few steps before returning, his hands gripped behind him.

  “Forgive me, Rachel,” he pleaded. “The last thing I want is to frighten you.”

  “I’m not frightened,” I answered, following the script. I could hear ringing in my ears, and my hands began to tremble. In truth, I was terribly afraid.

  He struggled. “If Tucker were a different man … if I could hope you would find happiness with him, I would let you go, caring more for your happiness than my own. Bien sur. But don’t ask me to stand aside and watch you throw your life away on a man who will make you miserable.”

  I was glad he said that. It made me angry, and I was able to forget my fear a little. “He’s the best man I’ve ever known.” Now that was the absolute truth.

  He held up a ringed hand in supplication. “Don’t be angry with me, Rachel. I am only trying to warn you, petite.”

  “Warn me of what?”

  “Not to throw your love away on a man who cannot return it. Who won’t return it. Captain Tucker will never marry you.”

  “Perhaps I could change his mind,” I answered evenly.

  He shook his head.

  “You don’t know what he’s like with me. He’s so … kind.”

  He bit his lip as though deliberating on the next painful words. “Look at all you’ve put him through, petite. You’ve practically forced yourself on him.”

  I flinched visibly, and he touched me. This time I didn’t pull away.

  “He hasn’t asked you to stay with him, to marry him, has he?”

  I thought of him leaving me at Lady Alistair’s without once looking back. For the first time I genuinely thought of the words I was saying. Thus far I had followed a script, convince the duke I loved the captain in order to escape. But now I seriously wondered if I could get the elusive Captain to marriage if I wanted. The thought was immediately rejected. Even if I wanted him, it was impossible. But I didn’t want him, I reminded myself.

  My silence was enough answer for the duke. He stepped forward and gently touched my shoulders, forcing me to look at him. “Chérie, I know you don’t love me. But I will always protect you. I have enough love for the both of us. Marry me. I will cherish you, and maybe in time, you could learn to love me a little, too.”

  “But ….”

  “Tucker has trailed after you, putting himself and others in danger for you time and time again. For pity’s sake, release him from his obligation, and place your safety in the hands of a man who longs for the duty. To be able to look after you is all I want. All the gold in the world is nothing to it.”

  His speech was impassioned, and, incredibly, I found myself considering it. Marriage, surely, would save me from pain from these men. Even, perhaps from the duke. He would think far too much of his honor to mistreat his own wife … if what he was saying was true.

  The duke felt me waver, and the beautiful lips curled. He gently pulled me close and touched his lips on mine.

  My body rebelled immediately, and I struggled against him. “I can’t!”

  He ended the kiss, but did not release me. He held me close, and I could hear his heart pounding, and his hands trembled as they held me. He seemed genuinely full of suppressed passion. I froze. Was it possible? Could it be I had been wrong about him? Did he really love me after all?

  “Rachel,” he said in excitement. “You know what we can accomplish together? All the things you must know — hundreds of years into the future. How did you do it? How was it possible?”

  I pulled away. “What?”

  “With you by my side, there is nothing to stand in my way!”

  I wrenched away from him and stared at him.

  He held his hands out to me. “Together we would be invincible.”

  “Charles, you seriously can’t believe ….”

  “It’s the only explanation! And how noble. What you must have gone through, all you’ve sacrificed. You amaze me. Tell me how you did it. I think I could worship you.”

  His words sounded ludicrous. “You’re crazy.”

  “Teach me. We can do it together. No one could stop us. There is nothing we couldn’t accomplish.”

  “Never!” I cried. “I would never do that. I didn’t come for power.”

  He smiled. “But for me.” He reached out to me.

  “No ….” I resisted him.

  “I know you feel something for me, petite,” he declared. “The way you’ve responded to me these last days, even while you struggled with your feelings for Tucker. I can make you love me, and you will forget him at last. He cannot appreciate you. Don’t you see? He is a fool!”

  I refused to hear him. “Let me go this moment! I will never agree. I can’t.”

  There was silence. He saw that I was immovable.

  His lips hardened into a firm line, his eyes viewing me with speculation. “It’s no use, petite,” he finally said gently. “I didn’t want to tell you this, but you must learn of it sometime.”

  I stopped struggling and looked at him. “What?”

  “I’m afraid I wasn’t truthful with you before. I saw how lost you were, and I feared for your sanity, petite. I told you what I thought you needed to hear to continue to live, to bother with living. But I’m afraid ….”

  I stared at him. “What? My God, what are you saying?”

  “Tucker … he is dead.”

  I stared at him. “I don’t believe you.”

  He hesitated, and then spoke gently. “He drowned in the battle, petite. He is gone now. You must let him go, I’m afraid.” He looked pained.

  I shook my head. “But you … you said you saw him ….”

  “I never said I saw him,” answered the duke coolly.

  “I saw him.”

  I turned and saw Looper, his greasy hair and blackened smile, watching me with a look of evil satisfaction on his face.

  My heart sank, but I tried to push the feelings away. They were both liars. They were both cruel and wicked and wouldn’t think twice of lying to break a woman’s heart. I looked back to Charles. “No.” I said matter-of-factly. “No.”

  His face creased in concern. “Poor child.”

  “You’re a liar,” I screamed. “It isn’t true.”

  Looper laughed. And then he held something out to me. It was the captain’s hat, shredded and destroyed by musket balls.

  “Poor petite,” Charles murmured.

  I cringed. The past few weeks I had barely held on to sanity as it was. By the skin of my teeth I was functioning hour by hour, minute by minute, and all due to the hope that the captain would come. That he was alive.

  But he hadn’t come, and the only way he would not have come would be because he had died. My shriveled hope died too. “No, no, no!” I ran my hands down my face. Anguish and sorrow consumed me, and I began to sob. Charles pulled me close and cradled my head gently.

  “No … no …” I moaned into his shoulder.

  “I am sorry, petite,” he murmured in my e
ar. “But he is gone. I know you mourn. You feel you will never recover now. But in time …. I’ll be here to help you. You don’t have to ever forget him, petite, but you must eventually learn to let him go and allow someone else in. Someone who longs for you. Someone who loves you ….”

  “No!” I cried.

  His arms tightened around me. “You can move on with me,” he told me firmly. “I will help you to heal. I know that you care for me. I know it ….”

  Suddenly something inside of me snapped. I began to laugh. I pulled out of his arms and looked him in the face. He seemed sadly surprised and confused, and that made me laugh harder. I laughed hysterically and wrenched my hands away from his grip. “I care for you? Is that what you said?”

  He froze.

  “You thought you fooled me again, didn’t you Duke? But the truth is, I fooled you! And boy, you were easy to fool.”

  “What do you mean?” he asked quietly, dangerously.

  But I did not heed the warning. I was insensible to everything. “The glamorous duke who leads the world by the nose. But your asset was your downfall. Your blessing, a curse. I’ve been playing you since the beginning. It was your arrogance, Charles. Your arrogance. Who, after all, could possibly resist your charms? Am I right? And yet I tricked you, pretended to be fooled by you so that I could stay alive long enough for the captain to come and find me.”

  His face went white.

  “He would never have been fooled.”

  And then his face quickly changed to red and contorted with rage. “Whore!”

  “But I can tell you the truth now, Charles Dubois, Duke of Norcross. Every time you touch me, I shudder with revulsion. And you never had a clue, did you. The famous duke, and you had no idea.” I burst into laughter.

  All pretense had fallen from his face, and he looked ugly again, uglier than I had ever seen him. Without a word, the Duke of Norcross reached for his pistol and leveled it at my heart.

  My hysterical laughter disappeared. All the anger and injury was instantly replaced by terror. I took a stumbling step back.

  What had I done?

  He pulled the trigger, releasing an explosion of fire and smoke.

  I closed my eyes, waiting for the searing impact of the bullet.

  But it never came.

  A body fell against me, nearly knocking me down. I opened my eyes and caught John Finley in my arms, slowing his descent to the floor, blood splattered on his shirt, his old, weary face contorted with pain. My eyes were wide, disbelieving.

  “John?” I whispered.

  He smiled up at me, and blood trickled out of the corner of his wrinkled mouth. “I did it. I did it, Miss,” he choked.

  I looked up wide-eyed at the duke who was watching us in disbelief. And then his expression hardened and he said, “How touching. All that dramatic sacrifice, and for nothing. I have another bullet, bien sur.” He held out his hand, and Looper passed him another gun.

  There was a faint whistling in the distance that quickly became louder, and the duke turned. Suddenly the world exploded before my eyes, smoke billowing before me, and I could see nothing.

  “Battle stations!” The words were shouted loud and long.

  Another whistle, another explosion, and the men on board leapt into action, forgetting us.

  “Hold on John! Hold on! I won’t leave you,” I cried, the smoke choking me. With all my might I dragged him by his clothing across the wooden deck desperate to find a safe place for us. Men ran, men fell around me, and smoke and screaming filled the air. I looked for anything, any means of protection for us. And I found it. An unlocked cabin.

  I dragged Finley’s heavy weight towards it, struggling to push open the door with my shoulder, and heaved us both inside.

  Blood covered John’s shirt, and I tore it open revealing the oozing wound at his abdomen. I straightened and ran to the bed and began tearing the bedding into strips desperate to stop the blood, desperate to save him. “Oh, John,” I cried. “Why’d you do it you fool?”

  I put padding on the wound and pressed it hard, but the material was soaked through before I could hope to tie it off. I stripped it off and tried again. Then again. And again. All the while the cruel things I had said to him and thought of him ran through my mind, screaming up at me accusingly in the form of that ugly, gaping wound. I had to stop the bleeding.

  He stilled my hands. “Don’t, Rachel,” he said. He’d never called me Rachel before. “It’s no use.” The words were calm.

  “I can do it, John! I can save you. I can stop the bleeding. I must stop the bleeding.” I burst into tears.

  He reached up and gently touched my face. “Don’t cry dear,” he soothed. “Don’t cry. I did it. I did it at last. This makes up for everything, doesn’t it?”

  “What do you mean, John?”

  “After what I’d done to you.”

  “Done to me?” I couldn’t understand him. Those memories seemed far away suddenly, as though they’d happened in another lifetime, to somebody else I didn’t like much anyway. I clutched his wrinkled hands with my own. “Oh, why’d you do it, John? I’ve been so cruel to you.”

  “Mallory has come. You will live. All is planned for us. Do you believe me now?”

  He closed his eyes and groaned, and I pressed my face to his chest, shame washing over me. “Forgive me,” I begged. “Forgive me.”

  I felt his hand on my head, and I looked up to find him watching me carefully, as though he were surprised. “You don’t hate me, Rachel?”

  Fresh tears sprang to my eyes. “How could I? I never would have done this for you.” I sobbed openly. “I’m sorry … I’m so s-sorry!”

  “I am not sorry. I want you to live. To marry. To love. I am happy to pay the price.”

  “But what of you?” I asked wretchedly.

  He smiled tenderly at me. “I will rest at last,” he said with relief, his face becoming very white.

  “Oh, John!”

  He caught his breath. “Rachel, listen,” he cried, looking up. “Do you hear? The angels … they are singing. I hear them at last. Do you hear them? Do you?” He looked around eagerly.

  Explosions and screams filled the air. I looked around at the dark, dirty cabin. Then I looked down at the man in my arms, waiting for my answer.

  “Yes. Yes, I hear them,” I said.

  “They are singing for me, aren’t they?” he breathed.

  “Yes. For you.”

  He gasped, his waxen eyes looking up exultantly above our heads. “They beckon me,” he whispered. “I will go to them.”

  My heart contracted. “No, John, you are not to go with them!”

  “They want me to go. I must.” And then suddenly he looked at me, fear touching his eyes. “You will come, too, won’t you, Rachel?” he asked, seizing my hand and squeezing it with more strength than he’d ever shown before. “You will bring Mallory to me? I will see him again? He is all that I have.”

  I gripped his hand. But I choked on my words. I didn’t know what to say. I was convinced we wouldn’t see each other again.

  “I must have your promise. I will be waiting for him. At the gates. You must bring him there, and I … you must ….” His voice was fading and he still needed my answer. Was waiting desperately for it.

  I held my breath and plunged headlong: “Yes, John. We’ll be there. At the gates. Come and meet us when it’s our turn. We will want you to show us the way.”

  His grip slackened. He was calm, relieved, and I saw the blood had pooled on the floor now. His blood was on my dress and all over my hands.

  “Tell the captain,” he whispered a plea. “Tell him what I did for you. He will be grateful, and he will think of me with fondness.”

  “He already thinks of you with fondness. You helped make him the man he is.”

  “Have I?” he asked with some surprise. “No. I hung on … held him back. I was a burden to him.”

  ”You weren’t. You cared for him. Taught and counseled him, faithfully
tended to him. You were kind. You showed him how to be good.”

  He shook his head.

  “It is the truth, John,” I said with conviction. “He told me. You were there for him when he needed you most. He would want you to know.”

  The doubt slowly faded from his eyes, replaced with belief. He breathed a sigh of peace. And then there was silence.

  “It is time,” he told me. “You must go.”

  “No. I will stay with you.”

  “You oughtn’t … see it happen.”

  I shook my head. “But you will be alone if I go, John, and have no one to comfort you.”

  “Rachel ….”

  “I won’t go, John,” I said, clinging to him.

  He smiled gently and patted my hand to calm me. “Alright then.”

  I lay down next to him, impervious to the blood, and I wrapped my arm around him and laid my head on his shoulder. The frantic feeling within me slowly began to ebb away. There were still shouts from outside, the explosions of cannons and pistols. Men screamed, but the noise slowly receded away from me as I lay there next to the old man. I felt myself relax, and I surrendered to this strange world of his, this elusive peace.

  “I am suddenly frightened,” I whispered, bewildered.

  There was no answer. “John?” My voice broke. “John, you can’t leave me. Please, not now!”

  He opened his eyes and touched his cross, the heavy cross that I had always thought mocking. It wasn’t mocking now. It was solid and safe like a heavy, reliable anchor.

  “You cannot be brave without first being afraid,” he whispered. “Take it.” He opened his hand.

  I took the heavy cross and clutched it to my heart. “Thank you, John,” I whispered. “I will use it to remember.”

  There was another explosion close to us. John looked to the window. He squinted.

  I heard a voice from outside, ringing loud and clear in the distance. My heart leapt in response. I jumped up and ran to the window.

  “John,” I cried. “It’s him! He’s alive. He’s here. Look.”

  But there was no answer.

  I turned and saw him lying there. He was gone. He was off with the angels that beckoned him, safe at last from the weight of fear and sin and pain. I went to his body and clutched his cross to my heart. “I will remember! I will meet you, John. I will see you again.”