A carriage was waiting downstairs when they were ready to leave. It drove them through the streets in a different direction from where his mother lived.
“I thought it best that a hack lead the way rather than us,” he said. The hack was almost too small for the both of them, but Gemma didn’t mind. James seemed a little more calm now and she watched him as he surveyed the streets they passed.
“How will you pay for a house if you find one?” she wondered. Surely he wasn’t sailing around with treasure stashed in chests.
“My wealth is in Paris.”
“Oh,” Gemma said. She hadn’t realized his co-operation with the French had extended to banking, but apparently it had.
The hack pulled up in front of a house. It was a large old building built in the Tudor fashion.
“No,” he said and turned back to the hack. “Next.”
The second one, closer to the center of town got a similar reaction. They only spent a few seconds looking at it before James decided he’d seen enough.
The hack drove a long time to get to the third and they had essentially left town when they got to it. It wasn’t far away, but outside city limits, on the river, facing out toward the sea. A white two-storey wooden building that looked like it had been erected quite recently. A strangely-shaped window had been placed on the second floor.
“Let’s see the inside,” James said after surveying it for a while, and Gemma followed him up the stairs to the large front door.
The empty inside had been cleared of all furniture and was very dusty. The pale sun shone columns of light into the space from the windows. The inside seemed to be decorated with light blue paper and white paint. They wandered around the front rooms, then went up the stairs. Their steps echoed across the empty spaces of the house which had the cold feeling of a long-time unoccupied house.
It was a lovely house though. The upstairs contained several rooms and James walked into the front one, where the strange window in the shape of an octagon faced the water.
“Chinese,” he said looking out onto the sea. “Someone seafaring built this.”
“It is very nice.”
“This is the house, I think. I will buy it. I think Mother would be happy here, and I won’t forget where it is.” He smiled tightly, looking over at her then back to sea.
Gemma felt her heart twist. Throughout their walk around the empty house, she couldn’t help but see herself in this house. But as he indicated, it may be years since he’d see it again. If she were to stay, that would be her future: living in this house, waiting years for his return. It just all seemed so bleak and impossible.
“Let’s return to the city. I will call the man of business to settle the purchase.” He placed his hand at the small of her back, a gesture she wanted to take comfort in, but she smiled tightly and moved back toward the staircase.
The carriage ride back to the city was conducted in complete silence. Gemma was too tired to think and she just wanted to be with him. He didn’t look happy. They were both unhappy. It was the inevitable conclusion.
They stopped outside their inn and James got out first, helping her out of the carriage. “I am going to seek out my man of business, do you wish to come?”
“I think I will rest. It’s been a long day,” she said. She didn’t want to part with him, but her mind was exhausted and she needed time to think.
“Hopefully, I won’t be long; although I’m not sure how long these things take.” He gave her the key to the room and pulled her into an embrace, kissing the side of her head. Gemma wrapped her arms around his waist, hoping they could just stay like that. But life wasn’t that way and he had to go.
Gemma took heavy steps up to their room. She felt despondent and sought out the window to watched the activity of the street below. She’d lost hope that there would be a solution to the situation they were in and this was getting all too painful. And it wouldn’t get any better from here. He would come back; they would be together for a short while longer as he brought her back to London. A few short days that would be difficult—a drawn-out farewell to a man she loved but couldn’t have.
She watched a cart trundle down the street, obviously going to the port. Perhaps they were both better off if she saved them that. There was no reason why she couldn’t leave now. She should just go. She knew seeing her to London would be hard for him; this way, he could sail off to the Caribbean and not look back.
Looking around the room, she sought something she would leave him with, but she had nothing. Memories were all they had and she would cherish them. But maybe she was better off preserving the sweet memories and avoiding the bitter ones that were to come.
She forced herself out of the room before she spent too much time thinking about it; it would only serve to weaken her resolve. This was for the best—not the first time she’d run away from him. This wasn’t running though, this was leaving. She left the key with the proprietor, not quite trusting her voice. “Can you tell him,” she started, but struggled to find the words, “that it was time for me to go. I wish him the best and will be thinking of him. Can you tell him that?”
The inn keeper nodded as he took the key and put it in his pocket. She’d informed him in no uncertain words that it wasn’t her husband she’d spent the night with. She wanted to explain that she wasn’t like whatever it was he assumed, but maybe to some degree it was that simple. They didn’t belong together and what they were doing was wrong—a sin even. The inn keeper turned giving her no more heed, obviously not feeling the momentousness of the occasion that she felt. She was leaving her lover and it was devastatingly painful. Nodding to no-one in particular, she stepped out of the entrance and onto the street.
The activity of the port never slowed and it didn’t take her long to find someone sailing to England—Liverpool as it happened. As she’d suspected, the Captain was amenable to taking a promissory note from her on behalf of her uncle. Her clothes, manner and accent made him feel comfortable that it would be honored, which was true; she would rather stab herself in the eye than break her promise to a merchant.
The merchant sailor didn’t dawdle in port and they were off before she had a chance to settle. It wouldn’t be a long voyage; they would be there by dawn. As they sailed, she looked back on the city which now contained some very painful memories. He was in there somewhere, going about his business of buying a house for his mother and sister. Distance was growing between them every minute.
This was a very small ship and it wasn’t really built for passengers, but there was a bench she could retreat to for the night. It was perhaps not the best choice of ships, but it was the one that was leaving immediately. She could have found a more comfortable one if she’d waited, but comfort was not a priority right now. She needed to go before she weakened and changed her mind. It wasn’t so much that she’d change her mind about it being a good idea to leave; it was more that she could stop believing she could do it. Gemma Montague was not weak. She’d had her moments, but she wasn’t weak.
Arriving in the early morning, she was stiff from the uncomfortable night spent on the bench. It wasn’t hard to find a coach leaving for London—they travelled the route all day. She had to negotiate with the driver to take a promissory note as he was keener on coin. Luckily the coach wasn’t full enough that he could choose another fare over hers and he grudgingly nodded for her to board.
Scrambling around the uncomfortable carriage, she found a seat on the wooden bench with a tolerable view out the window. There was an assortment of people traveling, and the smell was not particularly pleasant. She drew some interest as women like her didn’t normally travel by such means, but she was beyond caring about the curiosity of strangers. It was interesting how things that would have mortified her in the past barely drew any attention at all now. The important thing was that she was going home and putting this all behind her. That’s what she told herself, but it was truly more important to preserve the memories she had and to avoid the pain that wo
uld have come. This was painful enough, but at least she could suffer it in solitude.
She nodded asleep before too long; the ship’s bench had been awkward and uncomfortable at best. But she woke to a commotion. The carriage jerked sharply and she sought out handholds to steady herself. A frission of fear ran through the group.
“What’s going on?”
“Highwayman,” one of the older women said.
“Oh,” Gemma said, feeling concern grip her. She had nothing to take, so she shouldn’t be all that worried. It was a robbery and it was just another thing to live through. Perhaps she would be more frightened if she wasn’t now aware of how clinically and professionally criminals approached their trade. That was perhaps a lesson she’d learnt over the last few months.
“He’s coming,” someone said. The words resonated in Gemma’s mind. It had been the concern she’d felt with every breath over the last dozen or so hours. Suspicion grew in her mind and she awkwardly climbed over someone’s knees to have a look out the window. He was closer than she’d thought, riding hard around the carriage telling the man to stop. Her heart rejoiced at the sight of him, but her head protested.
“I will retrieve my wife,” he yelled as he came up to the driver.
“No!” she yelled as the carriage slowed. Bursting out the door when it stopped, she said, “You can’t do this to me again.”
His face was dark and drawn. She could tell he wasn’t happy—furious maybe. But what right did he have? She was back in Britain and this was always the intention, so why was he here?
He stayed on his horse, the beast too excited to stand still. “This won’t be a moment,” he said to the others, “just retrieving what’s mine. Come,” he held out his hand to her.
Glaring at him, Gemma crossed her arms in front of her chest. “You can’t keep doing this. You have to let me go. I am doing this for both of us.” She didn’t bother protesting his referral to her as his wife; it made no difference at all last time. “You have to let me go.”
The horse paced from side to side and he was having trouble getting it to calm, until he pushed it forward toward her. She went to step back when he reached down and placed his arm around her chest, drawing her up to sit in front of him. “Be on your way,” he said darkly to the coach driver.
Gemma didn’t bother to fight, his strong arm was clasped around her waist and she wasn’t going anywhere. He urged the horse into a gallop and she had to cling to him to cope with the movement of the horse. “James, stop!” she demanded. “Where are you taking me?”
He slowed down, but couldn’t quite look at her, not entirely trusting himself to speak. He’d ridden hard to catch her as he’d come on shore this morning. She had a couple of hours’ advantage on him and he’d had trouble catching up at sea. He hadn’t really questioned his own motives; he’d just known he had to catch her. The rush of the chase was still firing his blood. “You were just going to sneak away?” he accused.
“I thought it best,” she said, defending herself. “What was the alternative?”
He didn’t have an answer; he just knew this was unacceptable. He’d felt sheer rage when he’d discovered she was gone. It wasn’t entirely directed at her; he’d known what she was thinking and if he’d been in his right mind, he would agree. But as it was, he just couldn’t let her go.
She clung to his chest and he dismissed an urge to have her that very moment. His anger and his desire were intermixing into a mix of discomfort. There was also a much bigger issue to deal with.
“I can’t just...” he didn’t know what he meant, “let go.”
“Which is why I left. You shouldn’t have come.”
Unknowing where he was taking her, he just wanted her away from the coach—the threat that was taking her away. It was on its way, but he still wanted to take her somewhere—somewhere safe. It was an irrational urge, he knew, but it was still there, driving his actions.
The horse finally stopped and he turned his attention to his quarry. Her flushed face and welcoming lips drew his attention. His hands came up to cup her face. “How am I supposed to let her go?” He kissed her, pleasure drowning his brain. He’d feared he’d never kiss her again. It had sat like a hard, cold lump in his chest.
She responded to the kiss, urging her body to his. This was impossible; he couldn’t breathe without her being there in his life. He deepened the kiss until he wasn’t entirely sure he could keep their balance. Resignation permeated him as he pulled away from the kiss, watching the longing in her eyes as he did.
“I can’t live without you for years on end,” she said. “And the risks you take. How am I supposed to live with that?”
“I know,” he said quietly. “I will find a way.”
“How?” she demanded. He could see the desperation and sorrow in her eyes. He hated seeing sadness in her; it drove him to do something.
“I will just have to find another life, one that suits you.” Her eyes were shifting between his as she looked up at him. He needed to kiss her again. “We’ll live in the house I just bought.”
“You’ll be miserable,” she said with sadness.
“But I’ll have you and you’ll have me. And there is no other choice, is there? I’ve tried, but I can’t find another solution that is tolerable. I thought letting you go was the right thing to do, but I simply can’t when it comes down to it. Realizing you were gone hurt unbearably. You didn’t fit into my life, but now, as it turns out, neither do I if you’re not there.”
“Please don’t tease me, James. Not about this.”
He looked down into her eyes, which seemed to draw him in as if by compelling magic. “I have no choice. I must be with you.” A great weight felt like it left him. He had to do right by her, and it also meant he could do right by his mother. He was the one who had to change, to let go of all he knew and was, and become something else. It may not be seen as doing right by his crew, but someone else would rise to Captaincy if he stepped down, or they would find other crews. A girl had come and taken him away.
He chuckled. Everything he’d said back at the tavern in Current Cove had been true. She’d rammed his ship and stolen his heart. It had been boastful bravado at the time, but everything he’d said was true; he just hadn’t realised it then. “You stole me away.”
Looking down into her lovely face, he ran the pad of his thumb along the curve of her cheekbone. He loved her deeply and completely, and she’d stolen him away. If he were a lesser man, he’d admit that being stolen was terrifying, but also exhilarating. “You got me. You little minx.”
She raised an eyebrow, but a smile crept onto her lips. There was the girl who’d taken him on in battle and won. He saw her now. And she was his. If she needed him to live in a house on Dublin’s river, he would do it. Whatever she needed; he would do it. Pulling her mouth to his by his hand at the back of her neck, he kissed her again, firmly and deeply.
But right now, he had to get them off this horse. He tore himself away and suffered her muffled protest. He stopped in a glade; he needed a nice, calm place where he could reacquaint himself with what he’d almost lost. It was a bright morning and they were out in the countryside with no-one around for miles. He needed to bury himself in her lovely milky thighs to distract himself from the life-changing decision he’d just made.
She wasn’t giving him a chance for find a better spot for them; she was manoeuvring herself into his lap, straddling him, kissing him and pressing her body to him. Her urgency was as strong as his own—if not stronger. He smiled as he felt her hands sneak under his shirt and around his sides, teasing him. He watched her as she freed his shoulder from his shirt, exploring his skin with her soft mouth. His wife couldn’t resist him. He’d called her that to others on a number of occasions now, but it was the first time he’d called her that to himself. She was his wife. They might not officially be so yet, but she was. She was the mother of his children and his future companion.
Her lips sought his and he let the pleasure
of it numb his mind to the racing thoughts. He let his hand travel down her backside and ground her to him, feeling the tension and pleasure flare in him. His wife was wanton for him; couldn’t resist him if she tried. But she was always going to be, wasn’t she? He’d said so from the day he’d taken her from her bed. He’d tell her so, but just now; it would only make her angry and at this particular moment he didn’t want her anger. There was plenty of time for merciless teasing later. Perhaps after he’d found a priest for them; couldn’t have her running off every moment. Now, he wanted off this horse.
Epilogue
Standing on the beach, Gemma let the water dig her feet into the soft sand. The water made a zinging noise as it washed over the white sand. The sun was beating down and the boys were running around. Stephen was ten and Percival eight, and they fought like lions. As much as she tried to keep the peace between them, they competed over everything unless a common threat presented itself.
Eventually they’d returned to the hidden paradise where they’d rebuilt their cottage in the same place the old one had stood. The others had never claimed James’ spot on the beach when they’d rebuilt. Now they came every year to skip the harsh Irish winter months.
Many of the families here worked with James; although a few were still sailing the waters here looking for prey. While they’d never needed money, James had initially struggled with a leisurely life. He had his ships and he’d soon found a purpose for them sailing cargo between the Caribbean and Europe. He had a reputation of being fast and skilled enough to avoid any pirate in the water. But his interests had been engaged one day when he’d met a mad and impoverished Scot whose fervent dream was to farm vanilla in Mexico. James had funded the young man’s dreams and in the process had started a craze for the new flavor and an industry to boot.
They hadn’t married right away—they’d waited and returned to London to reconcile Gemma with her family. Vivecka and her uncle thought she’d lost her senses when she returned with plans to marry her fiancé—a former pirate! They were convinced he’d coerced her in some way, that she was only willing to accept him because he’d gotten her with child; which was true—the child part.
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