Broken Wing (25 page)

“Oh, God! I love you, too, Gabe.” She wrapped her arms around him, shifting her weight, spreading her legs to accommodate him. “Come, love. Come to me.”

Feeling near to bursting, raw with wanting, he gritted his teeth, telling himself to be gentle with her. As he slowly eased into her, she clamped her legs around his hips and pulled him deeper, closing around him, encompassing him as their bodies joined, on fire for each other. Lifting her, he claimed her as his own, his love, his life, his wife, thrusting deep within her as she raked her nails across his back.

Their groans and cries echoed wildly about the cabin as they consumed one another, ecstatic, eager, and unrestrained. It was rapture when her tight hot muscles began to contract around him, tightening and
clenching, spurring him to his own blissful release. His head snapped back and a deep growl tore from his throat as his hot seed spilled into her body. Breathless, unable to speak, their bodies slick with sweat, they lay tangled together amongst the disordered bedclothes. They had so little time, neither of them wanted to waste it, but nature demanded her due, and exhausted, cuddled together, they drifted helplessly to sleep.

Sarah woke halfway through the night. The ship had quieted and Gabriel’s warm body was wrapped around her, holding her at waist and thigh, his chest moving rhythmically at her back. She turned on her side to look at him, resting her head on the inside of her arm. He was a magnificent lover, this husband of hers. He looked so boyish and vulnerable that her heart squeezed with pain. He moaned, anxious in his sleep, muttering under his breath; another dream, and she did what she’d done so many times before. She cradled him in her arms and drew him down to rest, one last time, before he left. She didn’t know why she was crying, or why such joy should bring such pain.

Davey came for them well before dawn. “It’s time, children. Two of the lads will row you to the beach, and there you must say your good-byes.”

“Thank you, Davey, for everything. You will take care of him? You’ll bring him back to me?”

“Aye, cousin, I’ll do my best. Make haste now, Gabriel. We sail with the tide.”

The wind had risen, and the boat rose and fell
on the waves as he cradled her in his lap, holding her close against the chill that permeated the air and both their hearts. They had nothing they wished to say in front of others, and they made the trip to the beach in silence, hands clasped tightly together. He insisted on accompanying her up the path to the foot of the great old tree, not knowing how to say good-bye. Taking her hand in his, he raised it to his mouth, his breath warming her fingers as he kissed each one in turn. His eyes held hers, bright with love and tenderness. “Please don’t cry, mignonne,” he murmured, drawing her close. “I can’t bear it when you do.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, putting her hands around his waist and pressing her cheek into his shoulder. “It’s not like me at all.”

“Indeed, it’s not,” he said, laughter rumbling in his chest. Burrowing his head against her neck, he took in her scent, and kissed away her tears. “I will always love you, Sarah. I’ll write you every day, and I will come back to you as soon as I’m able. I’m your husband now, and you’re my wife, and no one can keep us apart. You believe me, do you not?”

“Yes, my love. I believe you.” She threw her arms around his neck and plundered his mouth in a hungry, soul-searing kiss. “You will miss me terribly.”

“Yes, mignonne, I will. I’m not sure how I’ll survive without you.”

“My thoughts will be with you all the time, Gabriel. I’ll think of you every night. Pick a star and
show it to me, and when you look at it, you’ll know I’m looking at it, too.”

Delighted with the idea, he lifted her off the ground and twirled her around. Setting her down, he pointed to a lambent glow flickering low on the horizon. “That one, Sarah.”

“That is Venus.”

“The planet of love, yes. She will help us spend some time together,
chère
. Watch her when she’s risen in the sky, and know that I’m watching her, too, thinking of you, loving you, and trying to get home to you.”

She smiled. “And what if the sky is clouded over?”

“Then I’ll come to you in your dreams.” Pulling her close, he enfolded her in his arms, hugging her so tight she couldn’t breathe. “I have to go now, wife. Know that I love you and I live to be back in your arms, and when I return we shall marry in front your family and the whole damned world, and nothing will ever part us again.” Helping her up into the branches of the oak, he waited until she was safe on the balcony before waving good-bye. He was gone an instant later, knowing the men would be anxious, and Davey, fretting to leave.

Sarah watched his tall form as he loped down the path. She’d lain down to sleep, drowning in sorrow, and he had come in wonderful surprise, with his sweet smile and generous heart, taking away her pain, warming her in his arms, and making her his wife. He loved her, and she was certain now that he intended to return. It was enough. It would have to be.

Two years earlier, Napoleon Bonaparte had amassed a huge force in the Mediterranean port of Toulon, sending shivers throughout Europe and the Ottoman Empire. England, Spain, Sicily, and Portugal, all potential targets, had breathed a sigh of relief when he had turned his attention to the east, setting the French flag over the pyramids of Egypt. Days later, the battleships that accompanied his transport fleet were caught at anchor by the British at Aboukir Bay, and all but two of them were lost in the Battle of the Nile. The Egyptian debacle had given the British strategic control of the Mediterranean, and handed Napoleon his first defeat, leaving his troops stranded, cut off by sea from rescue or reinforcement.

French merchant ships still darted in and out, eager to reap profits, their country greedy for plunder and wonders from the Orient and the Middle East, but they were no longer well protected. It was a circumstance that presented interesting opportunities
for men of skill and daring. With the right ship and crew, there was a fortune to be made. Davey was of indifferent, somewhat opportunistic, nationality, and he’d held letters of marquee at different times, from various nations. His family had been harassed and evicted from France in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries on religious grounds; and he gave a nominal nod to Protestant England, which had been one of the first nations to shelter his Huguenot forbears. For that reason, out of deference to Ross’s sensibilities, and in the interest of having a safe port of call, he’d always avoided preying on British ships. It was his intention now to prey on French and Spanish ones, reaping the harvest sown by failed ambition and rampant greed.

They stopped first in Calais. An edict of tolerance passed a little over a decade ago, had partly restored the religious and civil rights of Huguenots in France, and it was amongst this community Davey intended to arrange financial backing, provision the
L’Espérance
, and fit her with a new copper bottom that would dramatically increase her speed. Leaving the ship there, they continued inland to Paris. It was Davey’s intention to take care of some personal business, see to his protégé’s introduction to polite society, and once his ship was ready, set sail for plunder and adventure. It caused him no discomfort at all to know he would be soon preying upon his host.

Davey insisted Gabriel accompany him as he went about his business, and the two of them made a striking
pair. Gabriel was accepted wherever they went as a minor French nobleman and adventurer. His eagerness to see the sights made Davey laugh, and compare him to an English lordling on the Grande Tour. They received a great deal of attention, and were avidly pursued by eligible young ladies, disreputable widows, married women, and females of far less respectable origins. Davey enjoyed himself immensely, falling in and out of love at least three times over the course of a month, and in and out of welcoming beds far more often than that.

Gabriel found the interest tiresome, and although he was always scrupulously polite he didn’t encourage intimacy, coolly rebuffing those who solicited his attention, including males of a certain variety. He was casually dismissive of all who hungered for him, and his disinterest only heightened his appeal. The only person he had any sexual interest in was Sarah. He missed her terribly and wrote her as often as he was able.

His first letter didn’t reach her until a good three weeks after his departure. Sitting in the library, going through her correspondence, she was debating attending an upcoming scientific lecture at the Royal Institute. She was in desperate need of diversion, and a trip to London might be just what she needed to lift her from the doldrums. Shuffling her papers haphazardly across the desk, she cast her mind back to her last night with Gabriel. The whole evening had a fairy-tale quality to it that sometimes made her wonder if it had ever happened at all. Lost in reverie, she was
so startled when Jamie burst into the room that she almost fell from her chair.

He ran to her, grinning with excitement, waving a thick white packet in his hand. “Look, Sarah! A parcel from Gabriel! It’s from France and it’s addressed to you. Open it, please. Read it to me. How is he?” Hopping onto the desk, Jamie peered over her shoulder as she ripped open the bindings and several letters spilled out. “Maybe one is for me,” he said hopefully.

“I do believe you’re right, Jamie; it looks like two are for you,” Sarah said, scooping them up and handing them to him. “Now why don’t you go and read yours, and I’ll read mine, and when we’ve both finished, we can share from them what we wish?”

“Oh, yes, of course, I understand. He will have written you private things, I suppose,” Jamie said with a disappointed sigh.

“You might be right!” Laughing, face flushed, she ruffled his hair and gathered her letters. Her heart was pounding so hard she was half surprised Jamie couldn’t hear it. “I believe I’d like to read these in my room, Jamie. Will you forgive me?”

“I think he may have written you some very private things,” Jamie said with a laugh. Bowing, he clutched his letters and practically skipped out the door,

The moment he left, Sarah rushed to her room, giddy as a schoolgirl. Throwing herself onto the window seat, she tore open an envelope and began to read.

Mon amour, chère amie, Madame Wife
,

We are settled in Paris now, and I finally have some solitude to write. My head is crowded with you, mignonne, your voice, your image, your scent. You plague my thoughts and dreams, both day and night, and in revenge I shall plague you with letters. I miss you terribly, and have so many things to tell you
.

The
L’Espérance
remains in harbor at Calais with most of the crew, loading provisions and preparing for several months at sea. Davey and I have rented quarters in St. Germaine. Our lodgings are situated very near the Luxembourg Garden, which much resembles an enormous English garden but for the statues and the little men bent head-to-head, playing chess. We tarry here so that we may purchase navigational equipment and various other necessities best found in Paris, and so that Davey may take care of some financial matters as well as business of a personal nature
.

He seems to know everyone, in high places and in low, including the Charge d’affaires. He had no difficulty acquiring French citizen papers for us both, and it seems to cause him no discomfort whatsoever that we are soon to be preying on French and Spanish ships, It is curious how such an essentially amiable man, the wisest, truest, and most trustworthy of friends, can be so cheerfully amoral! I confess to feeling a great deal of admiration for him in this regard
.

I am uncertain as to why he insisted I accompany him, but so he has, and so I do, not without much disquiet and unease. I can tell you and you alone, that I have no desire to
encounter anyone that might remind me of my past, which is still too recent for comfort. Although I have a dread of it, it weakens day by day as I become evermore convinced that people see only what they expect to see. I introduce myself by the name St. Croix, and we are everywhere welcomed as gentlemen. Your acceptance of me as I am, and your choice to take that name as my wife, has served to take the sting from it. If it is acceptable to you, then how can it be otherwise for me?

In truth, my love, I am finding this entire experience passing strange. My life has been so circumscribed by the events and circumstances of my youth, that I find myself a stranger here in this country of my birth, with no sense of home or belonging, or even recognition. I have never known this city beyond a few confining blocks, never felt this as my country, never thought of any place as my home, until I met you, and now you are my only country, and my only home
.

I am seeing much of this city for the first time, as a tourist might, which seems to provide your cousin with much amusement. at my expense. Let me tell you first of the mood of the place. Bonaparte, the Little General, has come up in the world. He managed to slip past the British and his own troops, and has returned to Paris in glory, abandoning his fleet in Egypt to accept the great honor of being named First Counsel of France. A sense of excitement and a macabre gaiety have gripped the city. Everywhere, people from all classes join in the new craze from Germany, the waltz, at
les bals publics
that spring up throughout the city, and those aristocrats who managed to escape the
revolution’s fury have begun to emerge once more. You may not credit it, but many of the relatives of the guillotined find it smart and stylish to sport a thin bloodred ribbon around their necks, in a ghoulish fashion they call
à la victime.

More than a few young men have found their inheritance available to them sooner than expected, and possessing more money than experience or wit, they seem in a very great hurry to lose it. We are constantly invited to parties and to play at cards, and consequently I have developed a more-than-passing acquaintance with the gaming tables, both at the dens situated in the Palais Royale, which Davey loves to frequent, and in private homes. The habit of gambling gives one
entrée
into the
beau monde;
and it seems there is no other requirement to recommend one to the finest company in France
.