Broken Wing (16 page)

Well, here he was now, by the sea, as he’d always wanted. The boy was safe and happy. It was past time to leave. What kind of idiot had he been to imagine,
even for a moment, that there was any other way? Moving from a back alley, to a brothel, to a country estate, didn’t change what he was, but God curse it, why did he have to tell her? What sick, sad compulsion had driven him to reveal any of it?

Because you’re lonely
, he answered himself. So damned tired of being alone. Well, he’d guaranteed it now. Milady sunshine, Sarah, had been suitably shocked, and in fairness, one had to admit she didn’t shock easily. At least now she knew. There were no more illusions left for either of them.

Tilting back his head with a bitter laugh, he tipped the bottle and let the remainder of the wine drain down his throat before abandoning the empty container in the sand. The wind had picked up. Clouds studded the sky and moonlight illuminated the jagged rocks along the shore. His skin pricked with excitement, and he was filled with a curious elation. Bending down to remove his boots, he continued along the beach, closer and closer to the water until he stood in it, knee-deep. The cold seared him, sharp as a knife. He winced in pain before deliberately closing his eyes and submitting to it, waiting until he could feel the sensual pull of the surf as it tugged at his ankles, caressing and coaxing, drawing him farther, one step, then another.

Caught in its spell, he swayed with the waves, embraced by the cold sea and the cool night air. Looking out, he could see clouds of phosphor and foam. He took another step forward, wanting to be a part of the
great mystery frothing and humming around him. He wanted to swim, as far and as long as he could, half-convinced that if he had the courage, if he was strong enough and swam far enough, he might reach some distant shore where he’d find welcome and peace.

“Gabe? Gabriel?” Her voice floated above the water, insistent and concerned. “Gabe?” a little sharper now, cutting clearly through the hiss and swoosh of surf on sand. He turned slowly in her direction, swaying with the force of the water, confused, as if he didn’t recognize her.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it? Grander than any cathedral.”

He answered her with a bemused nod.

Barefoot, holding her ridiculous nightgown above the waves as best she could, she stepped into the water, hissing with pain. She held out her hand. “Come. Let’s go for a walk.”

He watched her in silence, his haunted eyes distant and confused.

“Gabriel, please come. I’m freezing!”

He extended his hand slowly, until the tips of his fingers brushed hers. A frisson pulsed through him, starting his heart pounding.

Entwining her fingers through his, Sarah took him in a firm grip and tugged him toward the shore. “Let’s walk,” she said again.

He looked into her eyes, startled, focused now, and managed a sardonic salute with his free hand. “As
my lady commands.”

She smiled as he stepped from the water, and something strung bow-tight inside her, eased. He was back. Back from whatever dark and faraway place had tried to claim him. She didn’t release her grip on his hand as they walked back toward the house, not even as he bent to retrieve his boots.

“You followed me, mignonne?”

“No, Gabriel. I felt like a stroll and a quick dip in my bedclothes on a freezing night. Of course, I followed you, you dolt! You’re lucky you didn’t break your neck coming down here drunk as a—”

“Why?” he rasped.

“You frightened me,” she said simply. “I didn’t like the way you looked, as if you were lost, not really there. I was worried about you. I also wanted to apologize. I had no right to pry, Gabe. I keep saying I’m going to stop, yet somehow I never do. I
am
sorry.”

“Don’t,” he pleaded. “Please, Sarah, don’t … I …” he struggled to find words, to let her know how grateful he was that she’d cared enough to come after him. No one, except Jamie, had ever given a damn if he lived or died. It meant everything.

Sarah squeezed his hand, then wound her arm through his and pulled him closer. “You’re shivering. Let’s get you back before you catch your death.” Leaning into him, she tried to share what little warmth she had. She could feel the rapid beat of his heart, the blood pulsing through his arm, vibrant and alive, but
his skin was clammy and cold. He smelled of wind and sea and she wanted to kiss him, to slap and shake him. Impulsively, she stopped and flung her arms around his neck, pulling his head down into a scorching kiss, before pushing him away. “Fool! Idiot! Stupid, stupid man! What were you thinking? Don’t ever frighten me that way again! Promise me!”

“I promise,” he whispered, soft against her lips. He returned to her room, by the stairs this time, lips blue, and shivering with cold. Businesslike and efficient, she tossed him a blanket and turned to stoke the fire, briskly ordering him to remove his wet clothes and get into the bed. He did as he was told, climbing onto her bed with the blanket wrapped around him for modesty’s sake as she spread his wet clothes in front of the fire.

“Under the covers, Gabe,” she said, pulling the blankets back and plumping the pillows. Warming a glass of brandy in her hands, she came to sit beside him on the bed. “Drink this.” Her fingers soothed his brow.

Gabriel was chilled to the bone, and shudders racked his body, but he was enjoying the novel experience of being taken care of. He swallowed the fiery liquid and settled into the nest she’d made for him, turning onto his side, and closing his eyes to avoid her gaze.

Concerned that his shivering continued unabated, Sarah dropped her sodden nightdress on the floor and
crawled under the blankets to warm him. With only the sheet between them, she pulled him tight against her, vigorously rubbing his shoulders, arms, and back, as his body shivered with cold and delayed shock.

She’d been relieved when he’d left her chamber, overwhelmed by his pain and frightened by the anger and the barely controlled violence that simmered beneath his surface. She’d also glimpsed the desolation in his eyes, and had been terrified at the thought of what he might do, alone and lost, this night. She clutched him tighter, her nose pressed into his damp hair, glad she’d followed her instincts, glad to have him close and safe beside her, feeling as if she’d won some battle, snatched him back from the hands of some unseen, malevolent, and utterly merciless foe.

Gabriel relaxed against her as the room warmed, and the brandy and her heat began to chase the chill from his body. Speaking into the silence, he answered the question she’d asked him a lifetime ago. “Sometimes I feel nothing at all, Sarah. Sometimes I feel so empty I think I’m dead. When I feel the pain, when I see the blood, I know that I’m alive.”

Hugging him tight, she answered, sweet and husky in his ear, “If you feel like that …
When
you feel like that, come and see me, and I’ll give you a kiss that will curl your toes and you’ll know damn well you’re alive, Gabe.”

With a soft laugh, he pulled her hand to his lips and kissed it, and then placed it snug against his heart.

“What did you mean, earlier? When you said you were leaving?”

He shifted uncomfortably, and sighed. “I’ll be gone from here in two months, mignonne, a little less.”

Alarmed, she pulled herself up, leaning over him, trying to read his face in the dim light. “Gone? Why would you leave? Where would you go? I thought you liked it here. I thought you were happy.”

He did. He was. “I don’t know yet, Sarah. I haven’t given it much thought. London, perhaps.”

“I don’t understand. Why do you want to leave us, Gabe?”

“I don’t.”

“Then why would you?” she asked, resting her hand on his shoulder.

“I signed an agreement with your brother, Sarah. It’s March already, and our agreement ends in May. He’ll not want me here after that. That’s always been understood.”

“By who? I want you here,” she said, relaxing and giving him a hug as she settled back against him, “and you’re wrong about Ross. He wants you here, too. He can be a little high-handed, and I don’t suppose he felt the need to discuss it with you. He just assumed you’d learn to like it and would want to stay. He and Davey have great plans for you. Davey wants you to be a privateering adventurer, and Ross would have you a respectable merchant sea captain. They bicker over
you like little old ladies.”

“Really?” he asked, startled.

“Oh, yes. It’s quite comical. Oh, Gabriel! Is that what’s been bothering you? I’m so sorry! I thought you knew.”

“I had no idea,” he whispered.

Drawing him closer, she murmured in his ear, “This is your home now, Gabriel. We’re your family now. Don’t run away from us.”

Warm in her arms, warmed by her words, he fell into a deep and healing sleep. He awoke the next morning, naked and snug in her bed. His arms were wrapped around her, their limbs were tangled together, and his face was buried in her hair. Disoriented, he tried desperately to trace the route that had placed him there. When memory flooded him, his face turned hot with embarrassment. His sex stirred, turgid and aching, and he fought the urge to rub it, rock-hard, against her bottom. It would be a poor return for her care of him last night. He gritted his teeth and carefully extricated himself, trying not to wake her.

It was the first good sleep he’d had in weeks. Yawning and stretching in the chill morning air, he reached for his clothes. He looked back at her fondly as he pulled them on. She looked like a lost waif, curled in the big bed by herself. Despite his embarrassment, a heavy weight had been lifted from him, and he had no idea how to thank her.

When Sarah awoke an hour later, she smiled to see that he’d lit a fire for her, and fetched her nightgown from where she’d left it to dry. He had truly frightened her last night. He might have drowned in those frigid waters, accidentally, or on purpose. She’d been too much the coward to ask. All she’d wanted was to bring him back and keep him safe. Now she wondered what to do. Common sense, warred with instinct and desire, telling her that by allowing Gabriel into her room, into her bed, she was risking more than discovery and the good opinion of people she cared about; she risked breaking both their hearts.

She knew he was falling in love with her. He’d known little of pleasure, nothing of kindness, and he had a heartbreakingly distorted view of himself. He was likely to fall in love with anyone who showed him warmth and acceptance, because he didn’t know or understand his own worth. Trying to be honest, she admitted she’d wanted him from the first moment she’d seen him in Madame Etienne’s library. His kisses melted her inside and out, leaving her hot and heavy and wanting more, but he’d known a surfeit of lust and sex, was intimately familiar with it, and she worried it wasn’t a lover he needed; it was a friend.

He was so vulnerable, had taken so many chances
by opening up to her. Well, damn it! Who else would take the time to know him, to appreciate and value all that he was? Who would have a greater care for his heart than she did? She had grown to care for him far too much, and he had grown to trust her. The depths of his hurt and anger frightened her at times, as did the depths of her feelings for him, but she’d gone much too far to pull back now, not without wounding him terribly. For better or worse, they were embarked on a journey together. Her heart refused to abandon him, and her instincts told her he was worth any risk. There was nowhere to go, but forward.

When Gabriel came, hesitant to her room the next night, he made for the window seat as was his habit of late, but Sarah patted the bed beside her. Needing no encouragement, he eased himself alongside her, gathering her into his arms and kissing her soundly. Last night hadn’t been a dream then. She knew more about him than anyone did, and here he was, back in her bed, back in her arms, kissing her. Shifting position to pull her underneath him, he let out an involuntary groan as a spasm of pain seized his back. He’d been practicing like a demon over the past few months, partly to hone his skill, but mostly because it allowed him to escape from his worries, and his fears.

“You’ve been overdoing things, Gabriel,” Sarah chided, pushing him away. “You’ll do yourself a serious injury, if you’re not more careful.”

“Nonsense, my sweet. It’s all your fault. You’re aging me before my time.”

Sitting up, she tugged at his collar. “Take off your
shirt. I can help you like I did last night.”

“I’m fine,
chère
, and last night, as I recall, was rather a mixed blessing.”

“Fine, have it your way. If you’d rather be stiff and sore than let me help you, that’s your choice.”

He supposed there was some lesson she meant him to learn, but he wasn’t in a mood to be schooled. Nevertheless, after several minutes of pointed silence, he sat up suddenly and tore off his shirt.
“There
, woman, are you happy now? Have a good look.” He lay down again, on his stomach as she’d asked, sullen, his back clearly exposed to her view as it hadn’t been last night.

He flinched and stiffened as her fingertips traced his scars, brushing gently down his back. She worked slowly, easing knotted muscle with deep, smooth strokes, pulling and pushing to release the tension gathered there. She moved her hands lower as she felt him begin to relax, working the muscles in his lower back, her movements slow and sure as she allowed her fingers to feel him, to tell the difference between, and respond carefully to, the tension in his muscles, and that in his soul.