Mariah's Prize (34 page)

He hadn’t seen his mutilated face in years, not since the surgeon had first taken the bandages away. It was so much worse than he wanted to remember. He was hideous, a monster with a face to frighten children and women. No wonder they gasped and looked away. Once he had been handsome, the kind of man that beautiful women desired.

Loveless, mon Dieu. Gabriel saw Deveaux’s attention waver, how the Frenchman let his grip on Mariah ease. Here at last was the second chance he’d wanted for so many years. For Catherine, for Mariah, and at last for himself.

In an instant Gabriel’s knife was in his hand, in the air, then buried deep in Deveaux’s belly. With a ragged gasp Deveaux dropped to his knees; the pistol still clutched in his hands, still aimed at Gabriel.

Heedless of the gun, Mariah ran to Gabriel’s arms, shielding him as she defiantly met the eyes of the dying man before her. “You too, ma cher?” asked Deveaux, each word painfully drawn out.

“You, too, would die for love?”

From the deck he no longer saw the looking glass, but the memory of his reflection haunted him, mocked him. All he could see was Sparhawk and his woman, a woman who would give her life for his enemy’s love.

Loveless. His hands shaking from the effort, Deveaux lifted the pistol to his unscarred cheek and pulled back the hammer.

And against all the odds, the gunpowder was still dry.

Q^z^s^Q

Crescent Hill July 1745

JVlariah sat on the swinging bench that Gabriel had rigged for her from the elm tree nearest the house. The wind in the branches overhead did all the work. She could loll quite indolently with her feet tucked up on the cushions and still swing gently back and forth while the leaves aboVe her rustled softly. This was her favorite spot on Crescent Hill, and now, with the summer’s heat, the coolest, as well.

She sighed with contentment, gazing out at at the bay before her, the fishing boats bound for Newport for the night like toys in the distance. From this same place this morning Gabriel had spotted the incoming sloop with his spyglass, and though he’d given up the sea and sailing, he still hadn’t been able to resist riding into town for the news the ship brought. With any luck he’d be back soon before their guests arrived for supper, and Marian smiled, considering all the ways they might pass that time together.

Beside her on the swing little Jon yawned and stretched his tiny fists up toward the leaves, trying to decide whether or not he was hungry enough to make waking the rest of the way worth his while. Mariah tucked the quilt more firmly about his legs, and that was enough to make up his mind. As soon as his eyes were open his mouth was, as well, with the full-throated howl that Mariah had heard so frequently in the three months since he’d been born. The sound of a man who already knew his own mind, declared Gabriel proudly, and Mariah agreed. The moment she lifted him to her breast he promptly stopped howling and began suckling, his infant contentment a mirror of her own.

Mariah touched her finger to the baby’s cheek and at the little hands lying so peacefully—if also possessively—on her breast. She marveled at how much he resembled Gabriel already, the shape of his face and his size already marking him as a Sparhawk. It had been Gabriel’s suggestion to name his son for his own father, and Mariah had immediately agreed, knowing the baby would be one more tie to draw them closer together. At Jon’s baptism, she would have been sorely pressed to say which man had been the prouder, the new father or the grandfather. And then there was Damaris, who’d pluck her marvel of a grandson from his cradle as soon as she entered the house and declare him to be the most handsome, perfect child ever born.

“I knew I’d find you here, love,” said Gabriel, pulling off his that as he bent to kiss her, his lips lingering fondly on hers.

“I’ll have you know I missed you royally. It’s quite sinful what marriage has done to me.”

He shrugged out of his coat and kicked off his boots, settling with a sigh on the bench beside her. As the swing rocked back gently beneath his weight, Gabriel pulled Mariah and Jon against his chest and into his arms. With one foot he gave the swing another shove that sent them sailing through the air. Mariah giggled, and Jon stared up at his father with delighted surprise.

“So you’ve finally finished, you greedy little piglet,” said Gabriel as he took the baby from Mariah so she could lace her bodice. “At this rate you’ll be taller than your poor old man before your twelfth birthday. Soon we’ll have to turn you over to Ethan for chops and biscuit.”

“You’ll steer clear of Ethan and his kitchen tonight if you’ve any sense,” said Mariah.

“He’s beside himself with cooking and baking and polishing pewter that didn’t need it. Do you know we’ll be sixteen at dinner, not including the babies?”

Gabriel grimaced.

“Sixteen?”

“Sixteen,” repeated Mariah firmly, counting them off on her fingers as far as she could, “and every one of them’s family. There’s your sister Sarah and her John and their six, then your parents, and Elisha and Jenny, and my mother and Mr. Gosnold, and us. Sixteen.”

Gabriel sighed dramatically.

“If I promise to listen to Gosnold’s story of his miserable crossing from London one more time, do you think he’ll finally marry your mother?”

“Oh, hush, Gabriel, he’s not so very bad.” Mariah swatted Gabriel’s arm, and he grunted in mock pain.

“Besides, you can bear with him for my mother’s sake. She’s never been happier than she is now, with her plump old wool merchant to pamper and fuss over her.”

“I’d rather fuss over you, poppet,” he growled, nibbling at the nape of her neck. “Family or not, swear to me that you’ll’send the whole sixteen of ‘em away as soon as the cloth is drawn so I. can have you to myself. Swear it, and I’ll tell you again how fortunate a woman you are.”

“I’ll swear, but I don’t need you to tell me how lucky I am.” She twisted in his arms and kissed him, slipping her hands into the front of his shirt to touch his chest and thinking how much her life had changed in the past year. “Very, very lucky.” ,

Unhappy at being ignored, Jon squawked indignantly, and Gabriel nestled him into the crook of his arm where he could look up at both his parents.

“Ah, love, but you don’t know the news of the harbor,” said Gabriel as he gave the baby his knuckle to gnaw.

“That brig we spied this morning was another capture by the Revenge, worth seven thousand guineas if she’s worth a penny. Rawlin brought her in, and all he could say to any who’d listen was, ” Another prize for Miss Mariah! ”” “Mariah’s prize,” she repeated softly, smiling at the husband and son she loved so dearly.

“Don’t tell Mr. Rawlin, but the prize I have here is all I could ever want.”

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