Kane, Samantha - Brothers in arms 7 (17 page)

A farm? A patch of land?” He shook his head bitterly. “I do not understand how you can say that.”

“I had nothing. No prospects, no income, no future. Look at me, Charles.” Gideon waited but Charles turned his face away. “Look at me.” Gideon’s tone was harsh and Charles finally obeyed. “I have all that I dreamed of then. This place,” he looked at Sarah and took her hand, “a wife,” he looked back at Charles, “a future. And most of that I owe to you.”

Charles nodded grimly. “Yes, yes you do. This place,” he indicated all around them, his arms open wide, and then he pointed directly at Gideon, “and your condition. I am responsible for that as well.”

Sarah closed her eyes. And that was it, wasn’t it? That was what drove Charles.

“What?” Gideon’s shock was evident. “What are you talking about?”

“I know that I drove you to Badajoz, to the Forlorn Hope. I know, Gideon.” Charles’

tone was accusatory. “I know that…what happened between us drove you to do such a stupid, suicidal thing.”

“What happened between us?” Gideon’s face was flushed, either with

embarrassment or guilt, Sarah wasn’t sure. But she knew that she should not ask, not now. Was it one of their fights that tormented Charles? “That had nothing to do with my decision,” Gideon continued stiffly.

Charles scoffed. “No? I think you lie, Gideon. Not only to me but to yourself.”

“Fine.” Gideon’s voice was cold. “It influenced the timing, but that is all. I had already been thinking about it, about after the war. I needed to make plans, and…what happened between us merely underscored the importance and necessity of doing so.”

The tension in the room was nearly choking Sarah. She should not have brought this up. It was a festering wound between them. Last night they had all crossed a line.

This morning she had redrawn that line firmly separating them again.

“What did you mean, Gideon, when you said you owed it all to Charles?” she asked, trying to make them both remember what they meant to each other.

“He saved my life that day.”

“That’s a lie,” Charles retorted immediately. “I stole it that day. I took the life you knew and the life you dreamed of and killed them.”

“What are you talking about?” Gideon demanded angrily.

“Tell me, Charles,” Sarah urged him quietly. “Tell me how you saved Gideon’s life.”

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Charles went back to the window and stared out. “I found him. He’d been burned badly and his leg was broken. Shattered, really, barely still attached. He was dying there among the
chevaux-de-frise
.”

“The what? I’m sorry, I don’t know what that is,” Sarah said.

Charles put his hands on his hips and shook his head. “Bloody awful things those goddamned French bastards came up with,” he answered. He slammed his fist into the palm of his other hand. “They rammed sword blades into wooden beams and lined the trenches with them. Getting across was almost impossible. The only thing that worked was to wait until enough dead bodies piled up on them to climb across.”

He said it so matter-of-factly it took Sarah a moment to understand what he was describing. When the full horror hit her, she covered her mouth to keep from screaming or vomiting. She felt like doing both. Gideon had been trapped in that hell. She reached blindly for him, and he grasped her hand.

Charles continued without turning around. “He didn’t tell me what he was going to do, you know. I found out too late, the Forlorn had already left. And I couldn’t very well go yelling into the night after them and alert the French, could I? I had to let him go. When the charge rang out I ran as fast as I could.”

“It was not your decision whether to let me go or not,” Gideon told him frankly. “I knew you would make a fuss, and so I didn’t tell you. I would have gone anyway.”

Charles shook his head. “No, I would have stopped you, if it meant knocking you senseless and carrying you away.”

“How—” Sarah had to stop and clear her throat, her voice was rough from holding back her reactions. “How did you save him?”

Charles finally turned and leaned tiredly against the wall beside the window.

“When I found him he was bleeding out, barely conscious, burned, his clothes were still on fire. He’d been caught in the explosion from the mines, you see. He was thrown into the blades. God knows how he managed to avoid being impaled on them, but he must have hit one, or one of the timbers more likely, and it snapped his leg nearly clean off.”

Charles stopped and licked his lips. He was still pale, and his hands were shaking. “He begged me to cut if off. His leg. I’d picked up some officer’s fallen sword along the way, and I…” He paused and rubbed his hands against his pant legs. “I cut it off. I picked him up and climbed over all those dead bodies. I don’t really remember much of that.”

“I don’t remember any of it, thank God,” Gideon said. “The last thing I remember is running into the trench, the lads’ battle cries behind me. Then I woke up screaming a week later, with half my leg and face gone.”

“You were able to get him to a doctor before he bled to death?” Sarah asked incredulously. “But how? That must have been a monumental feat.”

Charles was shaking his head before she finished. “No. I couldn’t. He was bleeding too much.” He smiled grimly. “But fate sent me a doctor. Doctor Thomas Peters to be precise. He was there on the battlefield, trying to save the wounded.” Charles ran his shaking hand through his hair. “He wasn’t like the others. Most of the surgeons waited 88

Love’s Fortress

in their bloody, reeking tents for poor bastards who were already more dead than alive.

But Peters, he went out and brought them back. Or did what he had to. There on the battlefield.”

Sarah didn’t want to know what he meant by “did what he had to”. “He saved Gideon there?”

“Yes. I made him. I dragged him away from some poor blighter and I put a knife to his throat and I told him I didn’t care how he did it, but he had better save him or else.”

“What?” Gideon was aghast. “You could have been court-martialed!”

“I never told you that, eh?” Charles asked with a genuine chuckle. “Luckily Peters didn’t hold a grudge. Saw him last time I was in London. He’s a very forgiving fellow.”

“What did he do?” Sarah asked, breathless with awe. What Charles had done for Gideon was amazing. He talked of what Gideon had endured, but certainly he had endured as much that night.

“We did the only thing we could think of. We burned it closed. Peters poured some gunpowder on his leg and we lit it on fire.”

“My God,” Sarah whispered. She was numb. It was horrendous what they had been through. Her hand tightened in Gideon’s.

Charles looked at Gideon then. “You may not remember it, but I do. You woke up screaming. It was the second time you’d been on fire in as many hours. I’ll never forget your screams. Or the smell of it.”

Charles rubbed his face with his hands and blew out a breath. “He was delirious for over a week, begging to be allowed to die. He nearly did, several times. But I bullied him and berated him, so damn angry at him I wanted him to live just so I could kill him.” Beside her Gideon snorted. “A little Spanish whore helped me to tend him. She belonged to a couple of officers in the Dragoons. She was a sweet girl. Died not too long after that, I think.”

“Yes, she did,” Gideon confirmed quietly.

Charles slowly straightened from the wall and walked to the door. “I don’t blame you, you know,” he told Gideon. “For holding me responsible. I am. I forced you into that position and then I saved your life and refused to let you die. And I know you regret it all. Everything.”

“Charles,” Gideon said, clearly exasperated. But Charles was already gone.

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“You wanted to see me?” Charles’ voice was as cool as his demeanor when he walked into Gideon’s study later that morning. It only added fuel to Gideon’s simmering anger.

“Yes.” He didn’t dare say anything else just yet. He’d thought he had his temper under control, but Charles’ arrival proved him wrong.

Charles stood just inside the door and raised his brow with wry humor. “Down to one word, are we? That’s never good.”

“Close the door.”

“Is three words an improvement? We shall see.” Charles’ amusement did nothing to douse Gideon’s anger.

When the door was closed Gideon indicated the chair across from his desk.

“The inquisition, then?” Charles said sarcastically. “Bring on your torture devices.”

He threw himself into the chair and sprawled there negligently, but Gideon could see the tension around his eyes and in the hand he wrapped into a tight fist against his thigh.

“You should leave.” Gideon hadn’t meant to blurt it out like that, but he was so angry.

Charles looked confused. “I thought you wanted to see me?”

Gideon took a deep breath, trying to gather his thoughts. Finding out that Charles had stayed all these years out of guilt was a shock that he had not yet recovered from.

He looked out the window at the horses in the meadow. He’d thought this place meant as much to Charles as it did to him. But he’d been wrong. He’d been wrong about a lot of things.

“I meant you should leave Blakely Farm.”

His statement hung in the silence between them like a tangible thing. Finally Charles answered.

“That’s it? After all the times you’ve thrown me out with anger and sarcasm, that’s the best you could to today?”

Charles sounded angry, and that made Gideon angrier. What right did Charles have to his anger? Gideon was the one who’d been wronged. Gideon had been deceived about why Charles was here, why he had stayed through all the hardships they’d endured. Gideon had thought… Well, it didn’t matter what he’d thought, did it? He’d been wrong.

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“Your guilt is misplaced. If it has kept you here, then you should go.” Gideon could hear how clipped his words were, how icy his tone. He was furious and unable to hide it.

“My guilt is misplaced?” Charles rose from his chair to stand behind it gripping the back. “My guilt has been placed precisely where it ought to be—behind your actions.”

“You are not, nor were you ever, in charge of my life or my actions.” Gideon tried to rise from his chair but sat down abruptly when he lost his balance. He glared at Charles from where he was sitting.

Charles had gone pale. He pointed at Gideon with a shaking hand. “That—that is what I’m responsible for. I pursued you, Gideon. You know I did. I forced you—” He turned away.

“You did no such thing. What happened between us was by mutual consent.”

Gideon did not want to talk about it. He thought about it nearly every damn day and had for six years. But he did not want to talk about it.

“What happened between us?” Charles gave a snort of disgust. “I’ll tell you what happened. We
fucked
, Gideon,” he hissed quietly. “I chased and I chased and finally I caught you in a weak moment and I begged you to take me. And you did. And then you hated yourself and me for it. Hated yourself enough to go on a suicide mission. I might as well have just killed you when it was done.”

Gideon couldn’t have been more stunned if Charles had picked up his chair and hit him over the head with it. “Is that what you think? That I hated it? That I hated you?”

“Please,” Charles said angrily, “don’t try to deny it. You have not spoken of it, ever.

It is as if once it was over it never happened. Don’t try to tell me it meant something.

I’m not a woman, to believe that lie.”

“No,” Gideon said calmly, “but you are more a fool than I ever thought you could be.”

Charles stared at him incredulously. “What?”

“I will say this once and never again. I liked it. I wanted it, and when you offered that day I finally let myself give in. I thought I’d lost you. I watched you fall and thought a bullet had taken you and all I could think was that I hadn’t had you. So as soon as I could I dragged you off to the woods and I fucked you. There, now you know.” Charles was gaping at him. Gideon nodded. “Oh yes. You thought all this time you were the great seducer. Well, I was willing. Willing and able and eager.” He was spitting his words out now.

He couldn’t sit still anymore. He rose from his chair carefully and grabbed his crutches and walked over to the other side of the room. “I liked it too much. I knew that if I didn’t keep my distance we’d be found out, because I had a damn hard time hiding how much I wanted you. And that is what drove me to Badajoz. I knew that if I wanted you again it had to be somewhere of our own, somewhere no one could gainsay us.

And I didn’t have the wherewithal to make that kind of place for us. But with the pension from the Forlorn Hope I could. And I was willing to die trying.”

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“Gideon—” Charles was dumbfounded, his voice disbelieving.

Gideon cut him off. “After this—” He waved a hand at his missing leg, at his face.

“After I was ruined and turned into this, that couldn’t happen. I understood that. You became nursemaid to me more than anything else. How I hated that.” For the first time Gideon let it show. His disgust and frustration at what he had become, what he had lost. “My dreams changed then, and I assumed yours did as well. Because if I have not spoken of it, Charles, neither have you. And no matter what lies you tell yourself, the reason is obvious. And I have never, never blamed you for that. Not for the fuck, not for what happened to me and not for changing toward me.”

Gideon breathed deeply. It was a method that had worked for him since the war. It helped him to stifle his anger and frustration. Charles started to say something, but Gideon held up his hand to stop the flow of words. He was not ready to hear what Charles had to say.

“Sarah has changed everything.” Gideon moved back to his desk and Charles warily sat back down in his chair. “It is all for her now. All this—” He waved his hand outside to indicate the horses and the farm. “Everything I do, I do for her and our future.” Charles was pale again. “You can leave with the assurance that whatever debt you feel you owe me has been repaid.” He softened his tone. “You deserve more, Charles. You deserve your own life, a normal life.” He cleared his throat and spoke briskly. “So we shall find someone to take your place and I can give you an allowance of some sort until you settle somewhere.”