Fear and Honor

by M. S. Parker

  And still, he continued to use his mouth on me, coaxing orgasm after orgasm until I was practically sobbing his name. Only then did he slide back up my body, his erection hot and hard against my hip. I shuddered as another aftershock rocked through me. I felt like my skin was buzzing, like every cell had been infused with electricity. Any pain I might've felt was gone, absorbed into the bliss that he'd given me.

  “I swear to you, Honor, I will never let anyone hurt you again.” He brushed hair back from my face.

  I rolled onto my side, hooking my leg over his hip and pulling him to me. He started to shake his head, but when I wrapped my hand around his cock, he moaned, all of the fight going out of him. He moved forward, joining us together with one smooth stroke. His mouth found mine as we rocked against each other. Our tongues explored, teased, and we took our time with each other, relishing the feel of each other's bodies, the knowledge that we were alive and together.

  When I finally came, Gracen's cry mixed with my own, his body stiffening as he followed me over. He pulsed inside me, filling me, reminding me that I was his. The way he clung to me was also a reminder. One that said he was mine as well. We'd deal with things as we had to, but not right now. Now, it was about simply being together.

  Chapter 26

  Though it was a difficult pill to swallow, the reality was that Gracen and I needed to lay low for a while. While looking for support for the colonies wasn't illegal, murder and theft was, and Gracen had killed a man. It didn't matter that he'd been protecting Celina. We discovered that she'd been an indentured servant which meant Celina was considered enough like property that we could be arrested for removing her from the house, and since her masters had given permission for Harry to do as he wanted with her, he hadn't really been breaking any laws. Not laws anyone would enforce, anyway.

  So we needed to stay hidden until we figured out what we were going to do next.

  Celina was recovering quickly, physically at least. Her emotional scars...those were going to be harder to mend. With Alize at her side, however, I thought it might go faster than it would have otherwise. I couldn't deny that my respect for the girl had grown over the past couple days. Gone was the flighty, flirty brat she'd pretended to be. She was caring and attentive to everything Celina needed, gracious and grateful to Gracen and me. She was far more mature than I'd ever thought she could be.

  Her father had come to visit, but Gracen and I had made ourselves scarce, giving them the privacy they all deserved. I didn't know how much Alexandre knew about Alize and Celina's relationship, but I didn't see how anyone could see the two of them together and not know they were in love.

  My own injuries were healing as well. Since none of my cuts had been deep, as November gave way to December, they turned from wounds into scars, and I found myself believing that they may eventually fade altogether.

  What wasn't fading was the feeling that we'd failed, Gracen and I. We'd come to France to find help but ended up making a mess out of things. Or, rather, I had. If I hadn't left the house that day, then Harry wouldn't have grabbed me. None of this would've happened.

  Every time I started to think like that, I reminded myself that Harry had been abusing Celina long before I'd come along. If my presence had made him get more violent than usual, it had also led to us rescuing her. Not that it made anything she'd gone through any less horrific.

  It was strange, the four of us strangers being bound together by something so awful. Well, two couples who were strangers to each other anyway. Strangers who were stuck together while we waited to decide what to do.

  Waiting was boring. It didn't matter if it was being done in a tent in the desert or a house in the past. When the only changes were slight variations in diet, and which maids scurried out of which rooms, boredom was inevitable.

  Then, on the second of December, a paper came with the first major news of the war since the burning of Falmouth.

  I couldn't read enough French to know what the article said, but the expression on Gracen's face told me that it was important.

  “On October twenty-sixth,” he summarized, “King George met with Parliament and officially declared that the uprising in the colonies must be dealt with. England has officially acknowledged that they are at war with the colonies.”

  A moment of silence fell between us, and I knew that he was waiting for me to make some comment about how I'd been right all along, how his doubting me had hurt. How if he hadn't said those things to me, I might not have been out on the street to be taken by Harry.

  I didn't say a word. I didn't need to. Not when the proof of everything I'd said was right there in black and white. I turned to look out the window.

  He set the paper down and came up behind me. “You have every right to be upset with me. I did not believe in you, and I had no right to doubt. Not after all we have been through.”

  He reached for me, and though I didn't return his embrace, I didn't resist either. I let him wrap his arms around me, pull him back against my chest. He pressed his lips to the spot behind my ear that made me shiver.

  “Forgive me, my love.” His words were soft in my ear. “I never should have doubted you, and I never will again. We may argue – I can almost guarantee that we will – but I will not doubt.”

  I let the air out of my lungs with a sigh and closed my eyes. “Of course I forgive you, Gracen.”

  “Thank you, sweetheart.” He kissed the top of my head. “Now, come with me.”

  “Where are we going?” I asked as he took my hand and turned me around.

  “To bed,” he said with a mischievous grin. “I have a lot to make up for, and plenty of time to do it.”

  Chapter 27

  Alexandre returned from a visit to court a week after Gracen and I read the headline that solidified the things I'd said would come to pass. I wasn't entirely sure what the relationship between Monsieur St. James and King Louis XVI was, but I knew it was close enough for Alexandre to have spent time with the king and his advisors. Which meant that when he asked to speak to Gracen and me the day after he'd arrived home, a knot formed in my stomach and stayed there as I quickly dressed.

  The best part of us having been essentially housebound for weeks was that I hadn't needed to put on all the under-shit on when I got dressed. I'd been fine with a shift and dress. For this, however, I went all-out. It took me longer than usual to get it done, but when I was finally ready, Gracen was still patiently waiting.

  He held out his arm, and I took it, falling into step next to him as we made our way down the hall, down the staircase, and into the front parlor. My fingers were cold in his, and he squeezed them as we went, a gesture I knew was meant to be reassuring. Considering what was on the line, however, I could only be reassured so much.

  Alexandre was waiting when we entered, but he wasn't the only one. To my surprise, Alize and Celina were sitting on the nearby loveseat. They weren't holding hands or anything like that, but they were sitting close enough that their knees were touching. Celina looked nervous, and I didn't blame her. I had no idea how much Alexandre knew about the relationship, or what he thought of what he did know, but he hadn't kicked her out, so that was something.

  “Please, sit.” He gave us both warm smiles. “We have much to talk about.”

  Gracen sat in a chair while I perched on the arm next to him. He took my hand, and I could feel the tension in his touch.

  “Tell me what progress you have made gathering support for the colonies.”

  I automatically stiffened but reminded myself that Gracen and I couldn't get in trouble here. Not for this. And Alexandre had been supportive before, so there was no reason for me to be nervous. Especially since he'd let us stay at his home without question.

  I only half-listened as Gracen explained the things he and I had gone over half a dozen times in the past couple days. I had all of it memorized, but it was the first time Alexandre had heard most of it.

  “England and France do not have the best relationship,”
St. James said as Gracen finished. “And there are many who are hoping that the English will receive a, how do you say, comeuppance.”

  “Do you?” I asked.

  “I cannot deny a part of me would enjoy that.” He smiled, his eyes sparkling. “But, despite my position, I do not believe that the wealthy are entitled to more than the poor.”

  “Does that mean you are willing to provide support for the colonists?” Gracen asked. “Official financial support?”

  “There are many at court who want to see the English lose,” Alexandre said. “Both for vengeance and to weaken their power, but there are just as many who fear that if the colonies win their freedom, revolution will spread to France.”

  I could almost hear my brother's voice, filled with his usual exasperation, as he explained to me the role the American Revolution had had in sparking similar uprisings, including the French Revolution. The loss had not only weakened the British Empire, but had set off a chain reaction that changed the world, showed people that power wasn't always connected by money. There were the rare people in high society who had wanted change, but they'd been exactly that. Rare.

  I couldn't, however, come right out and say what all I knew. I needed to be more subtle than that.

  “I understand the need to be cautious.” I chose my words with care. “But can we really blame people for wanting equal treatment? For their voices to be recognized?”

  Gracen squeezed my hand, and I felt his unspoken warning to tread carefully. There was a huge difference between colonists supporting a rebellion against English rule, and saying things that could be taken as a recommendation to overthrow all ruling governments...including the French monarchy.

  “Being ruled by a king who is an ocean away means that his choices aren't always going to be in the best interest of all of his people,” I said as I glanced at Alize and Celina. More than two hundred years, and even a government selected by the people still didn't command equal rights for all of its people. I continued, “Yes, what happens in the colonies will probably spread. And yes, it might cause some...unrest, but we can't allow the fear of what may happen to prevent us from doing what we know is right.”

  Alexandre studied me for a moment, then looked over at his daughter and the still-healing young woman next to her. “Others may not believe that the colonies have a chance of winning, but I do. And I believe that revolution will come to France as well. Because of my family's ties to royalty, I fear for my daughter's safety in the years to come.”

  “Papa,” Alize started.

  He smiled at her, a sad look in his eyes. “There are those who would want to take your happiness from you because they do not understand it. In society here, you are too visible, but in the colonies, you could be safe.”

  It hit me before the others, and I watched the realization dawning on their faces one by one.

  “Papa, no!” Alize rattled something off in French, but I didn't need to understand the language to know that she was begging her father not to send her away.

  “You want us to take Alize with us when we return,” I said.

  “She and Celina. I would consider it a great personal favor.” He looked at his daughter. “I want you to take them somewhere they can be safe. Together.”

  Alize stifled a sob, and Celina put her arms around the other girl.

  I glanced at Gracen to make sure we were on the same page, and he gave me a nod that spoke volumes.

  “It wouldn't be a favor, Sir,” I answered honestly. “Your daughter is the reason I’m alive today. And you have shown us such kindness by sheltering us here. We would only be repaying you the service of taking care of us. Of course we'll take them with us.”

  I felt as if I’d been waiting for days even though I knew I’d only arrived at the base hospital a couple of hours ago. I watched doctors and nurses shuffling back and forth, none of them bothering to look at me. The activity never seemed to slow down. The medic who’d come with me when we'd heard the news that James Dobkins was in critical condition had left some time ago. The charge nurse had already explained that there was a possibility that we wouldn’t even be allowed to see James today and certainly not until he was stable. But, I'd wanted to wait. Needed to see him with my own eyes.

  Shrapnel wounds, they’d said. I'd seen enough in my time in the service to know that those could range from minor injuries easily treated in the field, to fatal ones that wouldn't stand up to any doctoring, no matter who was doing it.

  Still, I couldn't help but think that if I'd been there, I could've done better. It was a shitty thing to think, I knew, but the thought was there, telling me that it would be my fault if James died.

  Another doctor exited from the direction they’d taken James, but I didn’t even look up. My cheek began to slide off of my palm as my head nodded with the suppressed urge to fall asleep. Dimly, I was considering heading to the cafeteria for a cup of very strong, black coffee when a voice spoke near me.

  “Miss? Are you the one who’s waiting for news on Private Dobkins?”

  My head shot up to find the doctor standing only a few feet away from me.

  I stood up quickly. “Yes. How is he?”

  The doctor’s expression was blank, and the nerves that had been bouncing around in my chest for the past half dozen hours turned into a knot, settling in the pit of my stomach.

  “I’m sorry, but he didn’t make it.”

  I stared at him, not believing the words I was hearing.

  “One of his lungs was completely crushed, and a number of other vital organs were severely damaged in the crash as well. We kept him going as long as possible on a ventilator, hoping we might be able to pull him through if we could stabilize his pulse and repair the damage, but it was too much.”

  The walls felt as if they were closing in. If I’d been there, I could have saved him, I told myself. If only I’d been there. I could have saved him...

  I jerked awake, releasing a short, harsh gasp. In a moment, strong arms were around me, Gracen's voice softly murmuring my name.

  It had only been a dream, albeit one that had been based in an excruciating reality.

  Gracen pressed a kiss to my forehead. “Were you dreaming of that man?”

  I shook my head. The feeling of helplessness, lack of control, I'd felt in both situations had been similar, but there had been no terror in my memory of my friend's death, only grief.

  “You are safe,” Gracen whispered. “You are here with me, and you are safe.”

  I was safe, and so were Alize and Celina. I was going to do for them what I hadn't been able to do for James. What I hadn't been able to do for Celina in that house. I refused to accept anything else. I would move heaven and earth to make them as safe as I was in my husband's arms.

  “I love you.” I pressed my face into his neck, inhaling his familiar scent, letting myself relax into him, letting him comfort me.

  The worries would come, I knew, but for right now, this was enough.

  Chapter 28

  I remembered a time when a man from my unit had been shipped home, told that he’d done his duty, that his service to his country was over at the ripe age of twenty-five. I'd sent him back to the States knowing that most of the work had still been ahead of him. Physically, he'd had a hard road ahead, but the most challenging part, I'd known, would be the mental recovery that would take far longer than the healing of physical afflictions.

  The same was true for Celina. She’d suffered bodily harm, but the emotional effects were far worse. I’d never dealt in the psychological side of things, but I hadn't made it through six years in the army without learning a thing or two, so I tended to her mind as well as her body as best I could as the days inched by.

  Her fractured fingers had been stubborn to heal, but they were looking far better. Without traditional plaster for a cast, I'd fashioned a brace of sorts that kept her fingers immobile. I wasn't sure if her slow progress was due to the lack of a real cast or simply due to how much her malnourished bod
y needed to repair.

  “It's looking good,” I said as I fastened the brace in place again.

  “Thank you, Madame.” She gave me a soft smile.

  Even without Alize around, smiling was finally becoming increasingly more familiar to Celina. Not that I could blame the girl for being skittish. Over the past couple weeks, I'd learned more about the life that she'd come from, and it had been enough to make me grateful that I'd been kidnapped so I could rescue her. What I'd endured at Harry's hand in those two days was nothing compared to what she'd been through.

  After her father had borrowed money to feed his family, they'd been indebted to the couple who owned the boarding house where we'd been kept. After managing to owe far more money than they’d ever be able to repay, both of Celina’s parents had passed away within two months of each other. Though they’d been doing whatever they could to keep Celina and her younger brother alive, it had meant she'd been left with life as an indentured servant or imprisonment as being her only options. To keep her brother alive, she'd essentially sold herself to the couple, supporting her brother from the age of thirteen until he also died.

  Harry had abused Celina from the moment he'd taken up at the boarding house a few weeks ago, and the only time she'd gone to her masters, she'd been told to keep her mouth shut and do whatever Harry wanted of her. She didn't know what he did for a living, but he would leave for days at a time, then return and spend a few days hurting her before repeating the process. I didn't have to ask her to know that my presence had made it worse. Though there was nothing I could have done about it, I still felt somehow responsible.

  “I would have died there if it had not been for you and Gracen.” As she had before, Celina displayed an uncanny ability to read what I was thinking. “And it would have destroyed Alize.”

  Some may have dismissed that as romantic nonsense, but I saw how the two of them looked at each other, and I knew how I would have felt if I'd lost Gracen. As it was, I knew Harry's death was weighing heavily on Gracen's mind, despite everything he'd done. I reminded myself to tell him what Celina had said. Killing someone was never easy, especially when it wasn't during a battle. He'd done it in defense of Celina and me, and he needed to be reminded of that.