He dropped to sit on the rock beside her, his thigh pressed against hers, and the heat of that contact flowed deep into her.
“I…”
“We…”
The began simultaneously. He waved her to try again, and she swallowed, suddenly unsure what to say. But she needed to speak. The words sounded hesitant when they came.
“I… I wanted to thank you. For saving me. If you hadn’t reached me in time…”
His eyes widened, and he shifted where he sat, as if uncomfortable with thanks. After a moment, he turned his eyes away from her, and spoke softly.
“There is nothing to thank me for. Any man would have done as much. Right now, I am most concerned with discovering why those men attacked you, and whether they acted on their own behalf, or were paid by someone else. Now that they are properly restrained, we are going to walk up along the road, and find the cart they arrived on. They have refused to admit to anything – but perhaps their cart will reveal something of the truth.”
Primrose swallowed, suddenly on the edge of tears again.
His almost offhand dismissal of her thanks hurt, and she felt bereft, confused – where was the man she had felt so close to, who had always seemed to understand her thoughts? She gathered herself, determined not to show how she felt.
“I hope so – for I am equally curious as to their intent.”
He touched her hand, an almost awkward gesture, and then stood, bowed, and turned, setting off with Luis moments later. She watched him walk away with the sense that something significant had just happened, yet not knowing what that might be.
<<<
Gabriel cursed himself inwardly, even as he strode up the rutted road beside Luis. He had not known what to say, how to accept Lady Primrose’s thanks. How could he have said what he truly felt – that for her, he would have given everything, would have put himself in the path of a knife or a bullet if it would protect her.
The intensity of his feelings confused him – he still shivered as he recalled the moment when he had turned that corner, and seen her in the ruffian’s grasp. He had not been rational, had simply reacted – and he was not sure that he liked that feeling of not being in control of himself at all – not that he regretted his actions, but the manner of them was disturbing.
When he had left her, just now, she had looked sad, curled in on herself in some way, as if his words had changed something.
He pushed the thoughts away – there would be time for reflection later – for now, he wanted to concentrate on the matter at hand. They trudged up the hill for some distance, until they came to the men’s cart, where another man dozed, sitting on the bench, obviously ready to drive off the moment that his co-conspirators appeared with their captive.
Gabriel and Luis eased forward, until they stood on each side of the cart, as close as possible. Then, in smoothly coordinated action, Gabriel grabbed the man’s arm, dragging him sideways, as Luis leapt up onto the cart from the other side, sliding across the bench to bring his knife to the man’s throat. The fellow jerked out of sleep, then froze, mid motion, his eyes going wide.
After some questioning had ascertained that there were no others, just this man, and the two they had already captured, Gabriel and Luis settled onto the bench on either side of him, and directed him to drive back down the hill to where their own cart waited. The knife held continuously pricking his side was enough motivation to ensure that he co-operated.
They reached Lady Primrose and Mary to discover them with everything packed up, and loaded back into the cart. Gabriel found himself smiling – he was sure that the practicality demonstrated was a result of Lady Primrose’s thinking, not Mary’s. Soon, they had rearranged things, binding the third man, and tying him in the back of his own cart. They set off, with Gabriel driving the attacker’s cart, and Luis his own, back down the winding road.
Every moment of the journey, Gabriel missed the sensation of Lady Primrose at his side.
Chapter Fifteen
Their arrival back at the villa resulted in great consternation, but by then, Primrose was so tired that she was barely aware of it. All the way back, as she sat beside Mary on the bench of the cart, she had missed Gabriel’s presence beside her, missed those hidden twinings of their fingers, missed the warmth of his body close to hers.
Now, as the men came out to take the attackers away to be locked up and interrogated, she made sure that her box of art materials was taken back to the room she was using as a studio, then gratefully followed a maid to the bathing room, and sank into the heated water with a groan. Every part of her now ached, having stiffened up during the hours of sitting still on the way back.
She nearly fell asleep in the water, as her mind replayed that last short conversation with Gabriel, when he had reacted so oddly to her thanks. Ever since, he had been distant, and she did not understand why. Tomorrow, she resolved, she would ask him about it, if she could contrive to see him alone.
She told the tale of the day to Sera, over a quiet dinner in her rooms, and then dropped quickly into exhausted sleep, to dream of Gabriel's kisses, oddly entangled with the grasping hands of the men who had attacked her.
<<<
Gabriel watched as Mary assisted Lady Primrose into the villa, a footman having come out to collect her art box and carry that in with them. Short minutes later, Raphael, Señor Pérez, and Señor Cristóbal came rushing out to the carts. Señor Pérez was horrified that such a thing could have happened to his guest, Raphael was his usual focussed self, instantly becoming analytical about what had happened, what they knew, and how best to investigate further. But Señor Cristóbal, Gabriel noted, was remarkably quiet for once, and looked very pale and shocked.
It was odd, for he had always seemed so brash and confident, yet now, confronted with something serious, he looked rather pasty and ill. It made Gabriel wonder if the young man had ever actually had to deal with anything unpleasant or dramatic in his life. If he had not, then his life was in vast contrast to Gabriel’s, which had featured a range of drama, including his sister’s kidnapping, arson at one of his brother’s businesses, and more.
Under Señor Pérez’s guidance, they took the men to the city magistrate’s gaol cells, to be locked away until they could be interrogated the next day, and left Luis making a statement to the magistrate, having been paid well for his work that day.
As they walked back through the evening streets, Señor Cristóbal spoke for the first time.
“Father, why do they bother to ask questions of men like that? Surely, they know that they will lie, will say anything, to evade blame?”
Señor Pérez looked at his son curiously, then answered in a considered fashion.
“It is true that they may lie, but with enough incentive, one may choose to tell the truth, in exchange for a pardon, or other advantage. With three of them, if they lie, it is most likely that their lies will not be consistent – so the more questions they are asked, the better chance there is that those lies will be discovered. Do not fear, we will find out who has done this, who has so attempted to dishonour our family by threatening our guest.”
Señor Cristóbal swallowed, looking even paler.
“Yes Father, I am sure that they will do their best for us.”
“I will make certain that they do. I will not rest until this is understood, and whoever might have instigated it is revealed. I will not have our name besmirched like this.”
With that, the conversation ended, and the four men walked in silence, until they reached the villa. They went to the dining room to belatedly eat the meal they had been about to sit down to when the arrival had caused such chaos. That meal also progressed in silence, but Gabriel could feel the tension which underlaid it. Raphael would want to discuss the events of the day with him, very privately, and he got the impression that Señor Pérez would be discussing it further with his son.
There was some underlying worry there which he did not entirely understand, albeit that the father
had expressed it in terms of family honour, it seemed to Gabriel that the son’s concerns were different.
He shook his head, pushing those thoughts aside, as likely being the whimsy of tiredness, and took himself to bed. Tomorrow morning would be soon enough to speak of it with Raphael.
Sleep was slow coming, even after the drama of the day, and when it did arrive, it was filled with strange dreams where Lady Primrose kissed him, then was torn out of his arms, to fade into nothingness.
He did not wake refreshed.
<<<
The next morning, Primrose woke slowly, discovering that every part of her ached. Mary helped her to dress, and she went down to the breakfast room feeling disconsolate and out of sorts. The attack of yesterday had cast a pall over her enjoyment of this sojourn in a new and different place, and Gabriel’s distance and dismissiveness of her thanks had left her uncertain of everything.
She was not sure that she wanted anyone’s company that day – perhaps, once she had eaten, she should simply shut herself away in her studio and paint. That should be a safe enough situation, and the act of painting would be soothing to her.
Sadly, her wish for no company was not to be granted. It seemed that everyone else had also risen late, and the breakfast room contained the entire household when she arrived. Señor Pérez spoke, as soon as she entered the room.
“Doña Primrose, come, be seated. I must apologise, again, for the fact that you were attacked whilst our guest. It is a slander upon our hospitality which I will not accept. I will not rest until the perpetrators are brought to justice – not just the men who attacked you, but also whoever may have incited them to their actions. Let me know of anything you need, and I will ensure that you receive it.”
Primrose felt her cheeks heat with embarrassment. Everyone had turned to look at her, as if such study might reveal the secret of the situation, might uncover the reason for her to have been so targeted. She scanned the assembled company, unsure what to say. Politeness demanded an answer. As she searched for words, she met Gabriel's eyes, and, for just a moment, there was warmth and sympathy there. Then he looked away, and she felt that as a rejection deep within her.
She swallowed. Señor Cristóbal was watching her, his face hard and almost angry, and she shivered, wondering why he disliked her so. But Sera smiled encouragement, and she managed to force out some suitable words.
“Thank you, Señor Pérez, I am grateful for your concern. For now, I would simply like to break my fast, and then spend the day quietly. But I will be most interested to hear whatever you may learn from those men who accosted me. For I admit, I have no idea why they would do such a thing.”
There was a general murmur of agreement to her words.
She went to the sideboard, and was served the foods which she chose, then took the remaining seat at the table – which was between Señor Cristóbal and Gabriel. It was not a seating arrangement which she would have chosen.
Primrose was acutely conscious of Gabriel – of the warmth of him, the scent of him, and of the fact that he was not looking at her. It hurt – far more than it should have, for she had always known that desiring him would not be an easy path. Señor Cristóbal was taciturn, casting sideways glances at her from under lowered lashes, and she shivered, finding that surreptitious regard almost threatening.
Silence descended, and Primrose fought the urge to simply flee the room. She needed to eat, needed to attempt normalcy. Food she achieved – normalcy, not so much. As soon as she had finished eating, she rose, excused herself, and hastened up to her rooms. She donned her painting apron, gathered her other materials, including the sketches she had done up in the hills, and went to the room she had been given to use as a studio.
With the door shut, the shutters open, and nothing but her paintings, and the warmth of the sun through the window, she felt herself relax. Turning to the half-finished painting which stood on her easel, she resolved to think of nothing else.
<<<
All through the morning, as they spoke to the magistrate, and watched as the three men were questioned, Gabriel’s thoughts were with Lady Primrose.
Somehow, there had grown a distance between them, from the moment that they had returned to the cart after the fight with her attackers. He did not know what to do about it – he wanted to rush to her, to pull her into his arms, to kiss her, to go back to the way that they had been – but he did not know how. For now, he contented himself with answering, as honestly as he could, the magistrate’s questions.
Raphael and Señor Pérez had accompanied him to the magistrate’s office, but Señor Cristóbal had not. Gabriel wondered, again, if the young man had really led so protected a life as to be squeamish about a matter like this.
The questioning proceeded, and it rapidly became clear that the man who had driven the cart did not wish to suffer for the actions of the other two, to which he had been only an accomplice. He claimed not to have known exactly what they planned, when they had first engaged him to drive them. It was unlikely to be true, but accepting it was convenient, if it meant that, by offering him a pardon in exchange, he would tell everything he knew of the others.
That arrangement was made, and the man became expansive in his provision of information. The magistrate’s clerk took down every word he said – none of it was, at first, at all surprising. The men had been paid to follow the cart which took Lady Primrose up into the hills, and to abduct her, then take her to a location where their employer’s representative would be waiting for them.
The man gave the location, and Señor Pérez exclaimed, startled.
“But no – how could that be? That is one of my warehouses!”
Gabriel and Raphael turned to him in shock.
The magistrate shrugged, and went back to speaking to the cart driver, who confirmed the direction of the warehouse as being where he had been told he would be going. He did not know what was supposed to happen to Lady Primrose once she had been delivered to that location, and it seemed that he told the truth there. He was taken and locked away again, by himself, and the other two brought out to be further questioned.
When confronted with everything the magistrate now knew about them, they roundly cursed the cart driver, but admitted the truth of his words, then claimed that they were only underlings, doing a job, because they had families to feed, that all fault in the matter should lie with the man who had paid them to do this. The magistrate looked at them, disgusted, but spoke calmly.
“If that is what you believe, then name him, and I will consider reducing your punishment. You will still be punished, mark my words, but it will go better for you, if you name him now.”
The two men eyed each other, still strangely nervous as they looked at the four men who stood waiting. Then one of them swallowed, and lifted his hand to point at Señor Pérez.
“It was his son, that Señor Cristóbal. The one who came here last night, with them. He swore that if we told anyone who had paid us, we’d be hunted down. But I suppose he can’t get us hurt if he’s locked up too.”
Señor Pérez staggered, collapsing into a chair, and the magistrate’s clerk rushed to bring him a cup of wine. Gabriel’s thoughts were whirling – why would Señor Cristóbal do such a thing?
Señor Pérez’s next words echoed the thought.
“Why? Why would he do such a thing? What could he possibly think to gain?”
The magistrate shook his head sadly.
“I do not know, Señor, but we will find out – for we must take your son into custody, and question him. You have always been a pillar of the community, Señor – I am sad to see this day.”
The magistrate asked a few more questions of the two men, but their answers did not make things any clearer, and they were taken back to their cells. Señor Pérez looked at the Magistrate.
“What now?”
“I will come with you, to your villa, I do not wish to allow any chance of your son escaping, before I can question him.”
<<<
Señor Cristóbal had watched his father leave with the two Englishmen, pretending to be calm. But inside he was panicking. What would happen? Surely those ruffians he had hired would blame him, would reveal the truth. And if they did, unless he had a bargaining position, all was lost.
In his desire to prevent the Englishman from taking advantage of his family, from convincing his father to sign an agreement that vastly disadvantaged the Pérez family, he had trapped himself. Perhaps he had chosen the wrong path, for he had hoped that compromising the girl would give him control.
Unfortunately, she had proven elusive in the house when he had tried to get her alone, and he certainly had not expected her to fight off two grown men.
But… maybe he could still achieve his aims. After all – the other men were not in the house now, and Doña Primrose was. If he took her now… then when the others returned, what choice would they have? They could allow her reputation to be ruined, allow both families to suffer the disgrace, or they could arrange a hurried wedding. Which would give him the leverage that he needed.
The more he considered it, the more it seemed the only course of action. He rose, and went to gather the items he would need. She would be in the room she was using as a studio, alone – which would serve him very well indeed.
Chapter Sixteen
Primrose was bent over, close up to the easel, a palette knife in her hand as she scraped off tiny segments of paint which were not quite right. The knife was not too large, with a long flat blade which sharpened to a wicked point which was only slightly rounded, and with a sharp edge on one side, near the tip – it was designed so that the most minute sections of paint could be removed, or scraped thinner, without damaging the work around them. The morning had disappeared into the focus of painting, and she was not really aware of the time passing.
Around her, the house was quiet, and only the change in the angle of the sunlight as it came through the window gave any indication of the day progressing. Behind her, towards the door, her as yet unused canvases were stacked untidily, where she had pushed them out of the way so that she could get the easel as close as possible to the window, for the best light. Tidiness could come later, once the light had shifted past the ideal point.
A Minx for a Merchant : Book 5: Primrose: Clean Regency Romance (A Duke's Daughters - The Elbury Bouquet) Page 12