Broken Wing (40 page)

He was so detached, so remote. Somehow, she remembered how to breathe, and when she spoke her voice was almost as cold as his. “I will come straight to the point then, Gabriel. Where have you been? Why haven’t you contacted us? We thought you were dead! How could you have let us go on believing such a thing? How could you be so cruel, Gabriel? You have no idea
what it felt like, what we’ve been through. Davey has been consumed with guilt. Jamie and I … we … I just can’t understand it! Why would you leave us to mourn you? All it would have taken was a letter.”

“But I am dead,
chère,”
he said with a faint smile. “I’m just not buried yet.”

She took a step closer and he backed away. “What’s happened to you, Gabe, to make you act this way?” she whispered, reaching her hand out to him, then letting it drop.

“Please don’t think me ungrateful, my dear, to you, or to your family. But the deed was done, the secret out, and the miscreant whipped to the curb. What else was there to stay for?”

She looked carefully into his eyes, searching for the truth, something, anything, but they were lifeless and empty, like his voice. “I don’t believe you,” she snapped. “I don’t understand why you insist on this charade. If you haven’t the courtesy or the courage to tell me the truth, pray say nothing at all.”

She considered for the first time that he was truly lost, forever beyond her reach. He was alive, though, and there was great comfort in that. It was time to go. She would leave him to his mistress and mourn him in a different way. At least now she could move on with her life. Moderating her tone, she continued, “My coming here has been a mistake. I am sorry for having intruded, Gabriel. Please don’t let me keep you from your guests.”

He’d never meant to cause her pain. He’d seen the wounded look in her eyes when he stood, with Barbara clutching his arm. He would never have purposely flaunted her that way, but Sarah had come upon him unexpected, taking him by surprise. The hurt and disappointment he saw in her eyes now almost unmanned him, flooding him with a wave of desolation worse than any he’d experienced in all his dark life. But for once, the gods were merciful, and nothing, not his face, or his eyes, or his voice, betrayed him. “I am very sorry to have disappointed you, my dear,” he said, and turning on his heel he walked away. Her parting words were carried to him on the breeze, barely audible as he stood on the threshold, poised to leave her and return to the cruel gaiety within.

“Stay safe, Gabriel, and welcome home.”

Gabriel moved through the dining room, grim-faced and silent, and left, closing the door firmly behind him. The
chevalier
knew where to find him, and minutes later, he cornered him in the library. “You let her walk away? Are you mad? She is your Sarah, is she not? The one you spoke to while we drifted about the Mediterranean. The woman you spoke about in Paris? She is
sans pareille!
So lovely, so cool, so hurt!”

“Mind your own damn business, Jacques! You understand nothing, and it’s none of your affair! If you place any value on our friendship, you will never speak of it again.” Hurling his glass into the fire, Gabriel stalked from the room, slamming the door behind him.

Sarah returned to the town house and lay awake in bed, blanketed in a deep sadness that was oddly comforting. She was done with weeping, and just wanted to go home. The man she had known, however briefly, had been ruthlessly murdered, replaced by the stone-faced stranger who stood in his place. No … she reflected, that wasn’t fair. The hard-eyed warrior was no stranger. He had always been a part of Gabriel. He would never have survived without him. But where was her joyful, tenderhearted lover, the passionate adventurer, her beloved friend?
I am dead
, he’d said, and walked away from her, leaving her little choice but to believe it. What had happened to him? She hurt just to think of it. He had suffered and survived so much in his short life.

“Oh, my poor, dear, wounded angel, may the Goddess find you. May she love you, and protect you, and
keep you safe from harm,” she whispered into the dark.

“Ah! So that’s been my mistake,” a soft voice drawled. “I’ve been praying to the other fellow, cold-hearted bastard.”

She shrieked and sprang from the bed, her heart pounding. He was sitting on the floor, a half-empty wineglass dangling from his fingers, moonlight and shadow tangling his hair. She shrieked again, in anger this time, and threw a pillow at him. “You bastard! You scared me half to death!”

Shifting the wineglass to his left hand, he deftly caught the pillow and tucked it behind his back. “Tsk-tsk, mignonne, temper.”

She searched for a candle, found and lit the lamp, and climbed back into her bed, pulling the covers up to her chin. “You’re sotted!”

“Mercy no, not yet,
chère
. But if I apply myself diligently.”

“Why are you here? What do you want?”

Why
was
he here? Because she’d waited. Because he’d been lost in a world of nightmares and she’d come to find him, as she always did. Because she had reached out as far as she could, had done all that she could, and he knew it was up to him to do the rest. As hard as it was, he had to trust, he had to hope, he had to believe. God help him, he had to try.

“I … I came to apologize, Sarah. I owe you that much at least. Earlier at the house, I wasn’t prepared to see you. It took me by surprise. You deserved better
from me than that.”

“So … you’re here to tell me you’re sorry you let me think you were dead? You’re sorry you never bothered to write me, to let me know you were alive?”

“ … Yes.”

“Well, there you are, then. It’s done. Now you can go.”

“Would you have me beg then, Sarah? Do you want me to crawl? I’ve never done it before, but I would … for you,” he said softly.

“Good God, no! What do you take me for? I’m angry with you as I’ve every right to be! I cried for months, fearing you were lost somewhere, imprisoned or hurt. I couldn’t believe you were dead. I made Davey keep searching for you even though it broke his heart. He felt so guilty, Gabriel! And now! Here you are! Look at you! Healthy as a horse, surrounded by your new …
friends
, and only a few days’ journey away. I don’t want you to crawl, or to beg. I want you to explain.” She stopped, drew a deep breath, and let it out in a sigh. “I want you to tell me why. I haven’t the slightest idea what you want anymore. Why are you here, Gabe, and what do you want from me?”

“I want to be there beside you Sarah … warm in your bed,” he said brokenly. “I want to talk, like we used to. I only wish—”

“Well?” she snapped. “You’ve made it across town and up three floors, all without spilling a drop, I might add. Why stop three feet from your goal?”

“Do you invite me?” he asked carefully.

She refused to answer and he chose to make of it what he would. It wasn’t the alcohol that made him unsteady as he rose to his feet. Moving to the bed, he sat down cross-legged on the far side. They were both breathless, remembering other nights. His heart was hammering.
Praise God, she still wore his shirt!
He felt like weeping. He had only to reach his hand out to touch her, but the distance between them was much wider than that. He took a sip of his wine, offered her the glass, and she shook her head no.

“I’m not sure how to begin.”

She refused to help him.

“I could not have contacted you at first, Sarah. I would have, had I been able. There was a storm on our way back to Gibraltar. I’m sure Davey told you. I was lost overboard. I don’t know how I survived. There was another man, Jacques Valmont, whose ship was destroyed. He pulled me up beside him on a broken piece of lumber. I can’t remember much about it. I had broken my arm, and some ribs, and taken a knock to the head. I was delirious much of the time. For some reason, Valmont decided to take care of me. I would never have survived without him.”

“He is the man who lives with you?”

“Yes, he was the tall, dark-haired fellow who watched you so closely at dinner tonight. We were taken captive by slavers and moved to a prison in Algiers. I was there several weeks recovering.”

“Why didn’t you send to us for ransom? Why couldn’t Davey find you? He searched all those places.”

“I wasn’t permitted to write and we weren’t meant to be found. We’d been sold to a private buyer, and he had no intention of letting me go.”

“But I thought that’s what they do? Davey said they would ransom anyone who had the money to pay.”

“It was de Sevigny, Sarah.”

“Oh, my God!” she moaned. Her heart froze, then filled with pity. It explained so much!

His eyes met hers, despairing and bleak. “Yes. He remembered me well.” He could still hear de Sevigny’s voice, malevolent, amused,
rèveille toi, mon ange
. He supposed he would hear it always. “I was his slave, Sarah. He kept me in a cell, drugged and chained. He was prepared to sell or ransom Valmont, but he wanted something more from me. I … he … he came to me when I was asleep. He started touching me. I knew what he wanted. I pretended to want it, too. I kissed him, Sarah. To prove it. The same way that I kissed you. Christ! I pretended he
was
you.” He closed his eyes, sickened by the memory, and wondered if it wouldn’t have been better to be raped. At least it would have been against his will.

“Poor Jacques didn’t know what to make of it all. He was too well bred to pursue it, but I know he was confused. He must be even more so, after seeing you.”

Sarah felt a rush of protective rage, remembering what he’d told her before their first real kiss. How it
was something meant for lovers, far too intimate and personal a gift for anyone else. He’d been so happy to have kept his kisses for her, to have something between them that was theirs alone, unsullied by the horrors of his past. She could guess what it must have cost him. “I had to kiss my husband, Gabe, and I hated it, but it didn’t take any magic away from the kisses between you and me. If anything, it made them all the more precious. If I’d known you then, believe me, I’d have done my best to pretend it was you I was kissing.”

He looked at her intently, wishing he had nothing more to tell, wishing she would reach out and wrap her arms around him and hold him close. But there had always been honesty between them, and so he continued. “It’s not the same, mignonne,” he said quietly. “I
chos
e to do what I did. I knew it wouldn’t stop there. I knew it wouldn’t be enough. He had me moved to his private suite, a reward for my cooperation. He was beginning to trust me and he wanted me very much. I used everything I’d learnt at Madame Etienne’s to make certain of it. The first night he had me brought to him alone in his room, I was ready. I took the knife from his belt and I gutted him and cut his throat. I watched his eyes as he died, Sarah. I wanted him to know. I kissed him, one last time, and I didn’t feel a thing.”

Sarah blinked, startled and caught off guard.

He watched the confusion in her eyes, the play of muscle and skin over her throat as she struggled to find something to say, finally lapsing into silence. The
clatter of hooves and the drunken shouts of late night revelers rose from the street below. He stared at his hands, folded in his lap. “I’ve done so much in my life, so little that I’m proud of, but I … I never deliberately set out to harm anyone, Sarah. Not even the German. But I meant to kill de Sevigny. I set a trap. I baited it with a kiss, and then I murdered him. It … I … I sold my soul. I acted the whore so I could have my revenge. I betrayed myself and I betrayed you, Sarah,” he whispered, “and I would do so again.”

“No, Gabriel,” she said gently. “There was no betrayal. You didn’t go after him. He came after you. He stole your childhood, your life. He degraded and abused you and when you’d finally got free of him he tried to drag you back.”

“He did drag me back.”

“No! He didn’t! He tried to and you killed him for it.” She was becoming angry and her words grew more heated. “He would have destroyed you! What other choice did you have? You did what you had to do to escape him. It wasn’t a betrayal, it was self-preservation. It wasn’t murder it was self-defense. Did you think I would blame you for that, or want you to do any differently? I would have kissed him for you if I could. I would have killed him for you, and done it gladly. You’re only human, Gabe, not some plaster saint. So what, if you don’t regret it? I’m glad if you got some satisfaction from it after all he put you through. But you have to find a way to let it go now, to
put it all behind you, or he wins.”

“Do you really think it’s that simple, mignonne?”

“It has to be. What other choice is there? He’s taken far too much of your life already. Don’t allow him to take any more. He’s not worth it!” Noticing the shocked look on his face, she took a breath and calmed herself. “I’m sorry, Gabriel. The thought of him … it just makes me very angry. I don’t care
what
you did. All I care is that you survived him, and he can’t ever hurt you again. I’m glad of it, and I won’t apologize for it. He would have killed your soul.”

“He did, Sarah. Or, I did. I let him.”

“Nonsense, Gabe! If that was true, you wouldn’t have come here tonight.”

“There’s more, though, Sarah. Things I …” He shivered and wrapped his arms around his knees, a haunted look in his eyes.

“Tell me then, Gabriel. Tell me the rest.”

“We disguised ourselves as mercenaries, Jacques and I. We … I …
became
a mercenary. We spent the next eighteen months fighting for a
renegado
commander before finding an opportunity to make good our escape last summer. We killed for money, Sarah, for profit. I saw terrible things. I did terrible things.”

“And did you enjoy that, as well?”

“No,” he said, his voice devoid of all emotion, “by then I was dead. I didn’t feel a thing.”

“I can’t believe you would have killed the innocent, Gabriel. Women or children.”

“No, God, no! We were mercenaries, Sarah, not butchers. It was paid warfare. But they were men who’d done me no harm.”

“But they would have killed you if they could.”