by M. S. Parker
He didn't answer right away, but I didn't rush him.
“We have time,” he said finally. “Did you not say that we needed to make a compromise?”
“I did.”
He brushed the back of his hand down my cheek. “Then we will talk about it more over the next few days. After all, there is no ship to take us back yet.”
“But we will talk about it?”
He smiled as he laid back down, pulling me with him. He tucked me against him, my back to his chest, his arms tight around me. “I promise.” He kissed my temple. “Now go to sleep, my love.”
As his lips brushed against the back of my neck, I allowed myself to relax, let sleep claim me. He was right, we had time.
Chapter 5
I waited anxiously for any news that would convince Gracen that I wasn't just making excuses to get him to come with me. I knew that things would be coming to a head in the colonies, but I couldn't pinpoint one specific event that could convince him that we needed to stick together.
It wasn't until partway through January that I realized it wasn't so much that Gracen thought I'd be safer in America than here, but rather that I'd be safer away from him. We hadn't talked much about how his father had been involved in the attempts on my life, but he seemed to accept the reality that it was my marriage to him that put me in danger rather than our political beliefs.
I wasn't the only one nervous about venturing across the sea without the people we'd come to rely on. Celina and Alize were keeping to themselves more and more. Whenever I spotted them together, they would be taking a walk or sitting in the library in silence. I didn't need a mirror to know that my face was as drawn and pale as theirs.
As the first month of the year neared its end, I found myself taking a walk in the mansion’s gardens with the girls. The air was cold and gray, but I couldn’t bear staying inside any longer, especially when Gracen was still in and out with Alexandre, continuing to build contacts within the Parisian community. It was worse than when we'd first gotten here. Then, I'd merely been bored and impatient. Now, I was both of those things, as well as sick to my stomach physically, and anxious about what was to come.
“Is Monsieur Lightwood still determined to stay here?” Alize broke the silence.
Her inquiry about my husband didn't trigger any jealousy. Since her confession and apology, the two of us had found a comfortable companionship, one that I believed could turn into an almost sisterly affection, especially considering the time we would be spending together.
“Yes, he is. He wants to be sure he’s done everything possible here before he even thinks of returning. I'm hoping to convince him that others will come to ensure a partnership between America and France, that his efforts would be better spent back home now that things will be picking up in the war.”
Celina tilted her head to the side, her expression thoughtful. “You know much about such things for a woman.”
I gave her a tight smile. “Women's intuition.”
Celina nodded, though I couldn't tell from her expression if she understood or believed me. I needed to be much more careful about what I said and how I said it, now that Alize and Celina would be around.
“Do you believe you will be successful in convincing him to leave with us?” Alize asked.
“I’m going to do my best. I'm hoping I can make him see that we'd be safer having him as an escort.” The idea of needing a man with me chafed, but I couldn't let my pride get in the way. It wasn't just me I needed to worry about. Alize and Celina were still so young, and vulnerable didn't begin to describe them. Plus, I was pregnant, and no matter how determined I was not to let it slow me down, I knew I had to take care of myself.
Besides, if playing to that side of Gracen's nature was what it took to keep him with me, I'd do it gladly.
“I would prefer if Monsieur Lightwood was with us,” Celina murmured as we stopped next to a bare shrub of some sort. Absently, I wondered what type of flowers would bloom here in the spring. As beautiful as I felt sure it would become, I didn't want to be here to find out.
“You haven’t been able to trust many men in your life, have you?” I asked. “Or people in general, I'll bet.”
Celina shook her head. “No, Madame.”
I'd given up on trying to get her to call me by my first name.
“There were men before Harry.” I didn't make it a question.
She nodded as Alize grasped her hand. “A servant is only as safe as her masters’ permit.”
I didn't need her to spell it out to know that she'd been treated more like a prostitute than a maid. My stomach clenched, anger burning deep in it. The worst part was that I couldn't even tell myself that things would get better in that area. Even in my own time, human trafficking was alive and well. Slavery might've been illegal in a lot of places, but people were still bought and sold, often for sex, but for work too.
The war for freedom never really ended.
“He was the worst,” Celina added in a whisper.
“I imagine so. It doesn’t get much worse than Harry.” The memories of the time I spent locked in the cellar of the boarding house, waiting to see what else that bastard would do to me had been the most terrifying of my life, and he'd done much worse to Celina. She possessed a strength I couldn’t fathom.
Even as we turned to walk back into the house, I had a sudden flash that I’d need to find that strength to get through what lay ahead.
I was more than mildly annoyed when someone knocked on our door quite early that Saturday morning. Gracen had gotten in late last night, long after I’d fallen asleep, and he'd just woken me up to show me how much he missed me. His fingers slipped between my slick folds as he ignored the knock and continued his oral assault on my breast.
Another knock. “Monsieur Lightwood!” a man's voice called.
With a frustrated growl, Gracen lifted his head. “Who could that be?”
“Can’t they leave you alone for a few hours at least?” I said, my body coiled in tight sexual frustration. “I mean, you were just with them not more than six hours ago.”
Gracen sighed as the person knocked again. He pushed himself up and grabbed his pants. “One moment,” he called.
As he moved to the door, I put my nightshirt on again, then pulled the blankets over me until I was completely covered. I knew my hair was a mess, and my face was flushed, but there was nothing I could do about that. It didn't seem that our visitor would leave without seeing Gracen, so I'd have to bear it.
Gracen opened the door to find an embarrassed looking boy about fifteen or sixteen years of age. Not a man, then, just someone with the voice of one. The boy's eyes flicked to me and color flooded his face.
“Pardon, Monsieur Lightwood. I was told not to leave until I gave you the news. Monsieur St. James was very specific.” The boy's accent was thick but understandable.
“What news?” Gracen asked.
“General Thomas Gage, Monsieur. He has been sent back to England.”
I frowned, trying to remember what it meant that a British general had been sent back home. My brain was thick with sleep and pleasure, taking its time piecing together history.
“Is there anything else?” Gracen asked.
The boy nodded. “Monsieur St. James said to tell you that Gage being recalled is evidence of the threat of the colonies growing and that rumors say the colonists grow in strength.”
“Merci,” Gracen said, his voice tight. He said something else in French and the boy's face lit up, but he then shut the door before the boy could say anything else. All thoughts of sex fled as he turned back to me. He ran his hand through his hair. “The siege on Boston has yet to break.”
“It won't until March,” I remembered suddenly. “And it'll be the British who lose.”
He sat heavily on the edge of the bed and dropped his head in his hands. I knew he believed me, but I also knew there was a difference between believing something will happen and actually witnessing it unfold.
“He’s surely involved in all of this by now,” he said. “I know he has done us much wrong...but he is still my father.”
I'd wanted something to prompt Gracen to come with me, but this wasn’t what I had in mind. I might have despised Roston Lightwood, but I couldn't wish him dead when it would hurt the man I loved so much.
“What do you want to do?” I asked the question quietly, forcing the words out devoid of any of my own hopes.
He looked over at me. “I need to go back. I cannot leave things like this between my father and me, no matter what he's done.”
So, he did wish to return.
“He might not turn his support to America,” I reminded him.
“I know, but I need to make things right.”
It was understandable to want to make things right, and external conflict often caused old differences to become less important, but I wasn't so sure it would work in this case. Roston might have forgiven Gracen for not joining the English army, but I doubted marrying me would ever be forgiven, not when Roston considered me the reason behind everything he'd lost.
Still, Gracen was my husband, and I would support his decision. Especially if it meant he would come home with me. I was willing to put up with almost anything for that victory.
It wasn't until dinner that night that Gracen made his announcement. I'd wanted to talk to him about things, but he'd clearly wanted to be alone. I gave him his space, reminding myself that he was basing so much of his future on his faith in me and what I knew. I owed him the time to process how he saw fit.
After we'd all been seated and the first course of the meal served, Gracen spoke up. “There has been a change of plans in regards to Honor and the girls leaving for America.”
All eyes turned to him, but I kept my sigh of relief in. He was either going to come with us, or I was going to stay. That had to be the case. The knot in my stomach, however, refused to completely ease until I heard the exact words.
“I believe it will be for the best if I return to the colonies with the women.”
Tears pricked my eyes, and I reached over to squeeze his knee under the table. I wouldn't make a big deal out of it now, but I couldn't completely act unaffected.
Gracen poured himself a glass of whiskey. “And, Alexandre, I think you should come as well.”
Okay, that wasn’t expected. Judging by the expressions on everyone else's faces, they hadn't expected it either.
Alexandre recovered first. “I cannot leave France.”
“You have earned a place within the colonies,” Gracen said. “Dissolving your wealth here will allow you to have your pick of any place, anywhere. And I am sure your daughter would love to have you with us.”
“Yes, Papa,” Alize spoke up. She’d been coping well with the idea of leaving, but her voice was pleading, her eyes wet. Her next words were in French, but the emotion in them crossed language barriers.
Alexandre shook his head, taking his daughter’s hand in his own even as he gave her a sad smile. “My dear, I would love to be at your side always, but there is work yet to be done here, if the king is to be convinced to assist.”
Alize's face fell, and my own heart broke a little. I was her age when I first enlisted in the service, and I'd spent plenty of time apart from my family, but an ocean in the eighteenth century was almost as much distance as I had between my own father and myself. I loved Gracen, but that didn't stop me from wishing for my parents from time to time.
Alexandre turned to Gracen and me. “I know that you will take good care of my daughter, keep her safe for me.”
I nodded. “Of course. She and Celina are in good hands.”
“We have many arrangements to make,” Alexandre said. “The use of one of my ships is only the first. There can be no doubt to any British ships you encounter that you are Loyalists returning from a journey. We can leave no question unanswered.”
He was right. We couldn't simply board a ship like we had last time, not if we were bringing with us two French citizens and support for the colonies. It would take time and preparation to make sure we got back safely. No one would be sailing until closer to spring, but that no longer seemed as far off as it once had. In fact, now I was wondering if we would have the time we needed to get it all done.
Even with all of it, I felt a surge of excitement. We had plans, things to do, and once that was all done, we would be going home.
Home to America...in 1776.
Nothing in the world was ever going to be the same again.
Chapter 6
At first, everything seemed to be falling into place. Alexandre had made sure that he had a ship with two cabins that would be ready to sail as soon as it was deemed safe, and was having it inspected every week to ensure that nothing went wrong with it. He and Gracen were working on the other supporters to get supplies together, and while some things were taking time to get, even that was going smoothly.
Then, just before Valentine's Day, everything went to hell. Because easy just wasn't the way things were allowed to go for me.
Alize rushed into the room, tears streaming down her face. I jumped up, adrenaline dumping into my system as all of the thousands of ways things could've gone wrong went through my head. She ran straight to me, falling into my arms.
“What’s wrong?”
“He is after her! Please, you must help her! Je ne peux pas la perde!” Her English dissolved into French, but her panic was enough to fill me with my own fear.
“Slow down, Alize. Who’s after who?” I spoke slowly, trying to calm her enough to get the information I needed. If she was freaking out like this, I needed to know why.
Alize took a deep breath, her fingers digging into my arms. She closed her eyes for a moment before opening them again. She was still scared, but it wasn't overwhelming her anymore. “The man who owns Celina's contract, he is coming for her.”
Okay, that wasn't great, but it wasn't as bad as I'd feared. “I'll talk to Gracen when he gets back. He and your father can take care of it.”
“No,” she shook her head. “Celina has not finished out her contract. He is claiming that he has full rights to her by law!”
Shit. That was probably the truth. I'd forgotten how an indentured servant wasn't like a typical servant. It wasn't employer, employee. While a lot of “enlightened” countries claimed that they'd outlawed slavery, they'd still managed to get their cheap labor...cheap labor who couldn't quit.
“What can we do?” Alize's voice trembled.
“I don’t know yet,” I answered honestly. I hated not giving her an answer, but I didn't have one. Not one that would do us any good at the moment.
Our only hope of saving Celina from her rightful “employers” would be considered breaking the law. But I couldn’t let them have her. I never would've wanted to send anyone back to that sort of servitude in the first place, but knowing the things they'd made that poor girl do...if we'd been in my own time, I would've made sure the authorities locked those assholes away.
But we weren't in my time.
“I’ll talk to Gracen and your father,” I said again. “We’ll figure it out.”
“Not my father,” she insisted. “He cannot know the things that were done to Celina. It would destroy her.”
“Okay,” I said, knowing she was right. “Just Gracen, then.”
“He will need to see this.” Alize took a step back and held out a piece of paper that I just now realized she'd been clutching.
“It's in French,” I said as I glanced at it.
She nodded as she took it back and began to read. “Celina Rosier has not yet fulfilled the time on her contract. She is to be returned to her masters by the week's end, or action will be taken. Each day she is kept from us is another day added to her contract as well as another punishment. Much more and she may not survive.”
Fuck.
“Alize, listen to me. It’ll be okay.” I tried to keep my voice calm because I knew that was the only way to keep Alize calm. “When Gracen gets here, I'll show him the letter, and we'll figure out what to do. Don’t worry. Celina will be fine.”
“You know what those monsters did to her. I could not live with myself if she was sent back to them.” She grabbed my hand. “Imagine if someone were to treat Gracen that way. What you would do to them.”
A flash of anger went through me at the idea of someone putting their hands on the man I loved. I didn't need to think about what I'd do. I'd kill them. Plain and simple. Anyone who hurt Gracen the way Celina had been hurt would be dead.
“I will do everything in my power to make sure Celina is a free woman before we leave this country,” I said. “And if she isn't free, she'll still be going with us. I'm not leaving her behind. You have my word.”
Her shoulders visibly sagged in relief, but I couldn't yet join her, not until I'd spoken with Gracen and had a plan for what we were going to do. Not that I had any idea what the hell that plan was going to be.
“Where’s Celina now?”
“She is in her room,” Alize answered. “I put two men at her door.”
I had a feeling that if her masters wanted her, two men wouldn’t be able to stop them, especially if they chose to get the law involved.
I couldn't believe I'd been naïve enough to expect things to go smoothly, at least on this part of the journey. Arriving in America would bring a new set of challenges, but I thought I'd have the whole trip back to prepare myself.
I couldn't take the time to be too frustrated with that right now. While I was waiting for Gracen, I needed to talk to Celina. Whatever information she could give me could only help in the long run.
The men at the door barely gave me a second look as I knocked on the door. I'd seen them around but didn't know their names. After I'd almost gotten killed at his Christmas Eve ball, Alexandre had hired additional security.
