Avow (18 page)

Unfortunately, the trees and bow he held brought memories along with their stability, and memories were something he’d not yet learned to cope with. He missed Scarlet with an ache that cut deeper than any cursed pain ever could.

Retrieving another arrow, he lined up and aimed again.

Jensen, God bless the nosey driver, reported to Tristan of Scarlet’s good health and Gabriel reported she was happy. It seemed the distance Tristan kept from her was working and, for that, he would endure however many more painful days and sleepless nights her life had to offer him.

From Nathaniel’s books, Tristan knew immortals could die if cut through the heart with the right weapon. And if Tristan could find a way to die while Scarlet
was
still alive, the immortal blood inside her chest would die as well, leaving her mortal.

So that was
his
new purpose: finding a way to die so Scarlet might live. He had dedicated most of his days to finding the right weapon, but being that he had no clue what type of weapon he needed, his hunt was tedious and long.

But time was something he had an abundance of so his new hobby was accumulating as many weapons as possible and eliminating them one by one.

He would find the right weapon and when he did, he would make sure his blood never stole life from Scarlet again.

He let another arrow fly and watched it split through the board far away as a tremor of agony raked down his spine.

CHAPTER 17

Charleston 1792

Scarlet stared at the flames in the fireplace; her mind wandering a thousand places that no longer existed as midnight drew near.

She was adjusting to her new life.

Nathaniel and his quirky ways were quickly becoming a piece of her heart and Gabriel had dedicated most of his days to making her laugh and showing her new things. The only person missing from her life was Tristan.

From the conversation pieces she stole while listening to Gabriel and
Nathaniel
—and she did, indeed, have to steal them—she knew he lived a good distance away, but aside from that she knew nothing about him. That was the point, she supposed.

She spent many cold nights in front of the fireplace, entranced by the blaze within. Something about the flames reminded her of Tristan, and something about the sparks reminded her of herself.

Sometimes Gabriel would join her, his easiness wrapping around her as he sat beside her in the firelight. She would sink into the warm calm he provided and be wonderfully distracted from any sorrowful thoughts. They would breathe, they would talk, and they would sit in silence. It was wonderful. Easy.

If Tristan was her fire, then Gabriel was her serenity; waiting her out, lighting her face, filling her heart in the slow, patient way only peace could.

He had told her to live, and so she did. She stopped wallowing. She made friends. She laughed at dinners. She even tied herself into corsets for special occasions.

And with every passing day, she felt less fire and more peace, until her heart no longer stung. Where once her chest would ache at the thought of Tristan, it now only echoed like a canyon filled with wind.

She had not fallen apart without her green-eyed Hunter—a realization that comforted her heart almost as much as it broke it—but she had become someone else in his absence.

She bit her tongue, she reigned in her temper, and she behaved like a lady. But more importantly, she was pleasant. Gabriel deserved a pleasant companion.

“I knew I’d find you here.” Gabriel’s voice held a smile as it met her ears.

She turned to look at the brown-eyed boy with Tristan’s face leaning against the archway into the study and smiled
.
“Fires are both destructive and beautiful. I find them terribly intriguing.”

“Of course, you do,” he smirked, and came to sit beside her on the sofa.

“How goes the state of your heart?” Scarlet constantly asked about his heart and his curse, always getting the same answer from him.

“Happy.” He grinned and his dimples pulled a grin from her face as well. “How about yours?”

She tilted her head. “Content.”

His grin softened as he reached for her hand and pulled it to his mouth, kissing her open palm. “I am glad. Now I can die a happy man.”

With Gabriel’s lips on her palm, Scarlet felt her heart flutter and the sensation surprised her. “You cannot die at all.”

He lowered her hand from his mouth but held it in his palm. “Then I can live a happy man.”

Scarlet rolled her eyes. “You are always a happy man.”

“Not always.” His tone was jesting, but a deep pain coursed through Scarlet’s veins as she thought of Gabriel’s life without her and the curse he bore.

“I do not want to die again,” she said. “I do not want you to be empty.”

He looked her over carefully, his pained eyes falling along the lines of her face as firelight flickered across his own. “You fear death for my sake?”

She nodded, realizing it was true. She was incredibly healthy and had not fallen ill in the three years she’d been alive, but death would surely come for her eventually. And the thought made her ache for Gabriel. He was full of good and her death would leave him empty.

“You are a silly woman to care so much for me. I do not deserve it.”

“You do.” She nodded. “Very much.”

He leaned over and kissed her cheek. “I love you.”

Scarlet’s eyes fell closed with the touch, remembering a time when she thought Tristan was gone and Gabriel had loved her fully and held her in his arms with great pride.

Scarlet opened her eyes. “I love you, too. Do you know that?”

He smiled. “I do.” He tilted his head to the side and sighed. “Come here.” He pulled her into him and leaned back on the sofa. Scarlet willingly tucked her head into the soft place between his shoulder and chest and inhaled deeply.

He smelled good. He was safe and careful, and everything about him was familiar and warm. She nestled in further and Gabriel wrapped his arms around her completely, setting his face against the top of her head as they watched the fire.

“Stay with me,” Scarlet said.

He ran his fingers down her arm and caught a strand of her long hair, wrapping it round his fingers. “I would not wish to be anywhere else.”

Scarlet suddenly wanted to cry. Not for her lack of Tristan. Not for her broken heart. But for Gabriel and his dedicated patience and unconditional love for her.

Like a weary warrior after battle, Scarlet let herself relax into the arms of the man who had loved her deeply in her darkest times and cherished her heart. Not just the parts that were undamaged and beautiful, but the entire mess.

And slowly, like it had never left, love seeped in.

CHAPTER 18

Charleston 1793

Scarlet was happy, her heart was full and life was pleasant. She and Gabriel spent nearly every day together.
Nathaniel
was pleased with her health and rarely stopped over to check on her anymore. And the only socially-unacceptable thing Scarlet was guilty of were her fighting lessons with a Frenchman named Pierre.

She hired Pierre in secret, insisted they train in the forest where no one would see her, and had slowly begun collecting weapons for these occasions.

Gabriel never questioned her fascination with blades and bows, but he did raise a suspicious eyebrow every now and then when Scarlet returned home claiming to have enjoyed a brisk walk through the property. For three hours.

She refused to give her secret away. She wanted something that was just hers, and fighting in the trees suited that purpose.

Other than the fighting, Scarlet had become a true lady; curtsying, taking tea, and managing not to spew sarcastic comments at pompous men who annoyed her at parties.

The fiery girl she used to be was dead, replaced by a polished lookalike. She barely recognized herself, but perhaps this was a good thing.

She loved her life, she loved Gabriel, and she had almost completely rid her heart of Tristan.

But then she misplaced her dagger.

This was not such a grave dilemma, for she had several other weapons and could easily replace the dagger if she chose to, but this was her lucky dagger. Its handle was unique and heavier than most and it fit her hand perfectly when she was sparring with Pierre.

It was because of this that Scarlet found herself prowling on hands and knees behind the sofa in the front room—where she had last remembered sheathing the knife—and heard Nathaniel’s voice in the adjacent dining room.

“Tristan is not well,” was all it took for Scarlet’s ears to perk up and her thief-like senses to keep her on her knees and hidden.

Nathaniel’s voice came again. “He is in a great deal of pain and, might I add, dreadful company.”

Scarlet crept along the sofa and crawled through shadows to stand behind a tall cabinet, where she could see Gabriel and Nathaniel seated at the dining table.

“Yes, well. Nonstop pain does that to a person,” Gabriel said.

Scarlet’s heart started to pound.

Nonstop pain? Tristan was hurting without reprieve because of her?

Well, that was unacceptable.

“He hasn’t been able to sleep for months.”

Gabriel scratched his chin. “Should we take Scarlet to him, just to give him a break?”

Yes. Yes, they should take Scarlet to them.

“No,” Nathaniel said.

Damn him.

Gabriel nodded. “You’re right. We shouldn’t risk Scarlet getting sick. She’s lived for so long this time.”

“Yes, that. And also Tristan would kill us if we brought Scarlet to
Hilldoor
. He would actually kill us,” Nathaniel said.

Hilldoor
.

Just like that, the fiery girl rose from the dead.

“He would not kill us,” Gabriel scoffed.

“He would try to.”

“I doubt that.”

Nathaniel said, “You didn’t just spend a fortnight in his manor filled with weapons and his tendency to punch things.”

“True. What shall we do with him?”

“I think,” Nathaniel sighed, “that you should suggest he move closer to us. Not anywhere Scarlet would know, but just close enough to keep them both healthy.”

“And why should I suggest this and not you?”

“Because it’s your turn to suffer his miserable mood.”

“My turn? I went to him last week.”

”Yes, but you’re his brother. He is less likely to hit you.”

“You’re his doctor and he actually likes you. You go.”

“No. You go.”

No, I’ll go
, Scarlet thought, already planning a trip to
Hilldoor
Manor, wherever that was. And all because she had misplaced her dagger.

It was her lucky dagger after all.

***************

The next night, Scarlet bustled out the front door and tried to act like she had pertinent and very-much-approved business to tend to as she approached Jensen.

“Good evening, Miss Scarlet.” Jensen tipped his hat in the moonlight as he stood beside the carriage.

She gave him her best smile. “Good evening, Jensen. Lovely night, is it not?”

“Lovelier with you under the stars.” Jensen was always good for a compliment. “Where can I take you this evening, Miss?”

Gabriel and Nathaniel had been invited to a gentleman’s dinner, leaving Scarlet under the scrutiny of only the household staff. Which, based on the interrogation she’d just endured by Beatrice, was almost as detouring as Gabriel himself.

“I need to get to
Hilldoor
Manor.” Scarlet kept her smile in place, knowing this was the critical moment.

Jensen rubbed at his chin. “I seem to recall Mr. Archer insisting on you never traveling alone. I believe my job—and quite possibly my life—was threatened at the thought.”

Scarlet waved a hand. “Gabriel would never harm you, Jensen. I know he adores you and he really is nothing but soft.”

Jensen looked at the ground with a knowing smile. “Gabriel was not the Mr. Archer I was referring to.”

Scarlet dropped her flirty act and scoffed. “Well,
that
Mr. Archer is a pain.”

“That Mr. Archer insists that your presence is unwanted at
Hilldoor
and I have no intention of angering him.”

Scarlet rolled her eyes. “Why does everyone fear Tristan so? He is more harmless than Gabriel, I swear. Take me to him.”

“I’m afraid that will not be possible, Miss Scarlet.”

“Jensen.”
She
set her mouth straight. “Tristan is in severe pain, is he not?”

“I am not supposed to know about any such pain.”