Finding Gabriel (26 page)

Even more, I hate myself for being so blinded. My tears drench the coverlet with each thrust. And then, as quickly as it began, the nightmare reaches its crescendo.

A loud moan resonates as Geoffrey crashes on top of my body. He is a rather large man – and the pressure of his form purges the last breaths from my lungs. For several moments, I fear I’ve blacked out.

I gather my shattered senses and right myself.

I wriggle out from beneath Geoffrey. Sore, trembling, and aching, I adjust my bloodstained skirts and roll off the mattress. Then I scan the room for Geoffrey’s knapsack. Limping over to the bag, I withdraw the dagger and secure the strap across my shoulder.

Just as I’m about to flee, I stop dead in my tracks. A haunting melody of choked sobs and laughter echoes off the walls. It’s bone-chilling. A thing of nightmares. A sound I’ll always remember within the darkness.

Mon Dieu. Geoffrey has gone mad.

He flips onto his back and slowly climbs into a sitting position. Between sobs and chuckles, he says, “Don’t you see? You are worth nothin’ now. Nothin’! You might as well stay with me, sweetling. No man will have you. Not once he learns the truth. You are ruined. Fuckin’ sullied goods. Now we truly are one and the same. You are gutter trash like me.” He crashes to the floor as he attempts to stand. Eyes wide with horror, I ease backward. He crawls across the floorboards like some wounded snake. Vomit bubbles from his lips and sputters against the scarred planks. Muttering drunken nonsense, he reaches for my ankle with icy fingertips. I leap from his touch, my body slamming into the door. Breathing heavily, he clutches onto the hem of my skirts in a vain attempt to retain balance.

Red-hot anger consumes me. I grasp the dagger’s hilt and swing the weapon in a deft arch. It slices through his forearm, summoning a slew of blasphemous curses.

Glaring at me through eyes I once thought beautiful, he hisses, “Putain! Leave and you shall fuckin’ rot to death. You won’t survive a day without me at your side. You hear me?”

Ignoring my soreness, muddled thoughts, and sticky thighs, I kick him in the side with every bit of strength I possess. Choked breaths rush from his lungs. Good – let him know pain and degradation.

Howling, he clutches at his chest, his entire body racked in a fit of strangled coughs and oozing vomit. Whatever remaining compassion I hold for Geoffrey mutates into blinding hatred. My hand madly shakes as I angle the dagger in front of my body. Blood coats the blade, clinging to the metal like flesh on bone. “I trusted you, Geoffrey! I might have even loved you!” The tears come once more; tears of anger, despair, betrayal. They cascade in harsh streams, blinding me with their intensity. “Now I would rather rot in the sewer than live by your side,” I spit, my voice surprisingly cold and steady. “And mark my words – touch me again and I’ll gut whatever heart you have left.”

Never looking back, I collect both knapsacks, tuck the dagger inside my pocket, and race down the inn’s stairwell. Drunken laughter floods the first floor and assaults me in a suffocating blur. Needing to breathe, craving freedom, I burst through the front door and slip into the budding dawn. The cold blast of wind clears my thoughts and solidifies my resolve.

I am a survivor.

•

Tense silence permeated the drawing room. The hearth burned low, casting everything in transient shadows. Gabriel fought to contain his emotions as he absorbed what Ariah had shared with him. He’d admired her before – now he was struck dumb with awe and disbelief.

The horrors she’d endured would have broken almost any girl of fifteen years. Yet she’d risen from the ruins of her past and emerged stronger than before. She harbored fears borne from the tragedy, of course – yet never allowed them to stifle her fire.

She’d raised her daughter in spite of the world’s oppositions. She’d pulled a wounded man from the Seine’s oily depths. She’d pushed aside her fears and sheltered a stranger beneath her family’s roof.

She’d gifted him hope when only despair had remained.

Suddenly everything clicked into place – all the mysterious nuances she held, her blatant fear of intimacy, her refusal to speak directly of Emmaline’s father … they all fit together like the erratic pieces of a puzzle. Only one mystery remained: How did Jacques come to be her husband? And how much had he known of her past?

Geoffrey.
Emmaline’s real father. And a man Gabriel ached to kill. Anger speared his mind and body while his fingers clenched into two unyielding fists.

He would kill this Geoffrey.

Ariah turned away and faced the dying hearth. Heart racing, he observed as she wrapped both arms around her torso, willing away an inner coldness. Gabriel tentatively stepped behind her and ran his fingers through the golden waves of her hair. He enveloped her slender body with his arms and secured her against his chest. She tensed, then slowly relaxed in the circle of his arms. A sigh resonated as her neck grew limp and fell to the side. He reached over and played with one of her curls, his fingertips brushing against her in featherlight caresses. His senses soared to life as he inhaled her unique essence.

“Ariah, I would never hurt you,” he whispered into hair. “I would never cause you, Emmaline, or Miriam any pain.” He grasped her tighter, attempting to absorb some of her agony. “You know this?” She shuddered against him and nodded. He felt her slender chest expand and deflate with labored breaths. He kneaded the strain in her spine, gently tracking his fingertips up and down her back. “My heart is on the ground for you,
chérie
.”

She turned, ever so slowly, and met the depths of his eyes. Then she lifted both hands and cupped his face. Tears shimmered in her beautiful gaze, setting those sapphire depths aglow. “As is mine.” She inclined her chin as a thoughtful smile graced her lips. “We are not so different, you and I.”

“Ariah … I would never hurt you,” he repeated, needing her to believe the words.

“I know. There is a sensitivity in you, a gentleness that Geoffrey never possessed. That one night – when you woke from a nightmare – I wasn’t lying then, and I’m not lying now. I see
into
you.” Gabriel’s body shook while her fingertips feathered across the torn side of his face. “You remind me of Jacques in many ways.”

He felt the color drain from his skin. Mind racing, he averted his eyes and absently fiddled with the signet ring. “Your husband?”

Ariah sighed as both hands slid from his cheeks.

“Tell me about him.”

“Gentle, intelligent, soft-spoken, infinitely kind, though rather withdrawn. I was eight years old when Jacques first came to the shop. I still remember how handsome he’d looked. He worked as an apprentice for my father when we were children. My father was a master carpenter, see. A rather talented musician, too. He was fortunate enough to own a little shop in the center of town. We lived above it, just upstairs.” A thoughtful grin curved her lips. “He acquired a violin through a lucky trade. I remember his expression. He was completely enamored by the instrument’s ancient beauty and couldn’t bring himself to place it in the shop. He took to the violin like an old friend. Taught himself to play by ear. Our lives were simple enough – rich with laughter, music, and memories. Even when I was a girl, Father always ensured that I could be on my own and care for myself. He taught me to read, to write, how to organize and run the shop. Those are some of my most cherished memories.”

She swallowed, stared into the hearth, and shook her downcast head. “Jacques and I reunited years later, after Father’s death, after the foster home and Geoffrey. He taught me how to trust again – at least a little.
Dieu.
Jacques sacrificed so much for me and my family … for the love he held for my father. And when he learned I was with child …” The words died on her tongue.

The urge to tell Ariah the truth – that Jacques had died on board a ship alongside countless others … that she was a widow … that she no longer had to be alone … that they could be together – was nearly too great to resist. With each passing day, he was coming to realize that as long as she held hope for Jacques’s return, she could never truly be his. But then she turned to him – and the truth surfaced in her eyes.

She already knew.

“He was in my regiment on several occasions,” came Gabriel’s careful whisper. “I didn’t tell you before, but I knew him quite well. He was an honorable soldier and a great man. One of the very best.”

“You … you knew him? You knew Jacques? I cannot believe it.” Ariah’s tears dampened his greatcoat, and her entire body shuddered with choked, guttural sobs. Nodding, he gently rocked her from side to side and increased the pressure of his arms. Returning his embrace, she fairly melted against him. The sweet scents of rosewater and nectar warmed his soul. He tracked his palm up and down her spine in languid circular motions. Gabriel inwardly sighed as a painful knot gathered inside his chest. For the sake of closure, she needed to
hear
the words.

“It happened aboard the
Achéron
. He was returning home to Paris, along with many other soldiers. The
Achéron
was mistaken for a merchant ship and sieged by privateers. The men defended their war galley and fought nobly. But a second privateer swept in … and the odds crushed her. Now she lies at the bottom of the sea.” Gabriel stepped backward and held Ariah at arm’s length. Her lips quivered, and tears streaked her pale cheeks in fierce strides. “Look at me, Ariah. You must.” Almost in slow motion, she lifted her chin and met his eyes. “There were no survivors reported. It was a terrible tragedy. A shameful accident – and a true blight against our military. Napoleon demanded our silence. Only the commanders and generals knew of the incident, myself included. We covered it up – buried it as a dark, shameful secret.
Dieu
. I’m sorry. So sorry. For everything.”

“I don’t understand. Why did you wait so long to tell me?”

Sorrow and guilt filled Gabriel’s heart. With her eyes swollen and her curls plastered to her cheeks, Ariah looked remarkably like a little child.

He swallowed deeply before speaking. “When you first found me, I simply didn’t care. Not really. I was resentful, angry with the world … angry with you. But that quickly changed, as did my very feelings.” In an urgent movement, he swept her against his chest. He secured both arms around her slender body and held her tight, offering his warmth and comfort. “I meant to tell you weeks ago, but I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t bring myself to shatter your hope. You deserved better. Jacques deserved better. You deserved to hear the truth. And I betrayed you.” For several moments, only the wind chime and crackling hearth shattered the silence. Her shoulders vibrated with intense sobs. She grasped onto his greatcoat, holding onto him like a lifeline. Aching inside and out, Gabriel spoke with his touch; he massaged her back – up and down, down and up – easing her pain in the only way he knew how.

When she finally spoke, her voice was breathy and taut with emotion. “
Dieu
… it hurts so badly. I would give anything to see him once more, to hear his voice.”

“As would I.”

Silence filled the drawing room for countless minutes. Gabriel held Ariah close and gently rocked her body back and forth, allowing his greatcoat to absorb her tears.

Cursing himself, he gave her another kiss, smoothed his hands up and down her back, and fought to distract her with his words. “What of your mother? Tell me about her.”

Ariah slowly exhaled, the warmth of her breath piercing his greatcoat. “There’s not much to say. She died during childbirth. My father loved her dearly – he always made a point to let me know that.” She stepped out of his arms and stared into the wavering flames. “My father died in a carriage accident. It was written in his will. I was sent to live with my half sister and her mother … Thina Gamet – my father’s one and only mistress.” Ariah spat the name as her eyes narrowed in distaste. Shaking her head, her delicate chin lowered. “That didn’t last long. She couldn’t bear my face. I was a constant reminder of my father … a man who’d been wedded to his shop, firstborn daughter, and quaint lifestyle. I met Geoffrey in the foster home. He quickly grew to be my best friend and protector. He took beatings for me, stole coal and parchment from a shop, and helped me escape when the abuse finally became too much. Before Jacques, Geoffrey was all I had.” She momentarily drew silent while tears streaked her cheeks. “He became my entire world. And depending on him had blinded me terribly. What he did … it was born from utter desperation. He thought I would break, that he could trap me forever, sentence me to an eternal prison. But I – ”

Gabriel swallowed the very last of her words by placing his mouth upon hers. His tongue parted her lips and swept between the moist seam. Ariah hesitated. Then, body and soul, she surrendered to the onslaught of his passion. She obliged the intrusion with a feminine sigh. Erection straining against his trousers, his body responded without further encouragement. He only prayed his desire wouldn’t scare her away.

She tensed against him. Then her fingers dug into the material of his greatcoat. Urging him ever closer, she tipped her face and allowed him full entry. He chased her gasp with his tongue, filling her mouth with passion, heat, and slick promise. She returned the favor, tentatively at first – before surrendering completely.

“Trust me, Ariah.” Unable to tear away, he moaned the words against her cheek. “I need you to trust me. Give me your trust, and I shall never betray you again. You have my word.”

They were both starved, feasting off of each other with equal fervor. His heart did a quick somersault, spun by the sweet sounds that fluttered from her throat. Drinking in her essence, he deepened their kiss and pressed his hand against the small of her back. She shuddered against him, tightened her grasp, and moaned inside the dewy heat of his mouth. His groin hardened impossibly more and gave a responsive jerk. Gabriel’s opposite hand slid down her tearstained cheeks, wound through the mass of curls and ventured down the elegant column of her neck … slinking over the rise of her breasts … one and then the other …