Broken Wings

by Judith James

  "And I love you! Do you think I would have let you into my bed if I didn't? Do you think I would be lying here with you now, like this? Do you think that after deciding to ... to be intimate with you, I would j change my mind because my family might be annoyed? What kind of woman do you think I am?" Sarah was almost in tears, frustrated and hurt that after all they'd been through he would withdraw from her yet again, when she was at her most vulnerable. She jerked away from him and sat up. "I think you should go."

  Ignoring her last statement, he moved only so far i as his side of the bed. He clasped his hands behind his head and looked up at the ceiling. Alarmed at her anger and sorry to have caused her distress, he tried to explain. "I think you're a fine woman, Sarah, a lady in the truest sense of the word. That's the problem. You're far too fine and good for the likes of me. You're so far above anything I deserve, anything I've dared to dream of, that I have trouble believing this is real. I know you love me. I know I wouldn't be here now if that weren't true. I just... I...I'm afraid you're mistaken."

  "What? What do you mean? Mistaken how?"

  "I just don't understand how you could love me, Sarah," he said with a sigh. "Not if you really understood the things I've been trying to tell you. I'm afraid you'll wake up one day, maybe tomorrow, maybe a year from now, and realize I'm not who you thought I was, that you've made a terrible mistake, and you'll be horrified knowing what you gave up, what it cost you. I'm afraid you'll start to hate me."

  Her anger evaporated. "Gabriel, I could never hate you. Not under any circumstances. And any woman would love you if you'd stopped snarling and growling, and just let her. You're intelligent and kind and you make me laugh. You sing and play like an angel. You're strong and brave, and yes, you're beautiful. When I first saw you at Madame Etienne's, you looked so defiant, so utterly lost and so oddly familiar. I felt like I knew you, like I'd always known you. Since then, the more I get to know you, the more I find to admire. I wish you could see yourself as I do."

  "How can you say that? You know who I am, Sarah. You know what I am. You know better than anyone does. I'm a fucking whore, for Christ's sake! I sell my body to anyone who wants it. I demean and degrade myself for money. Is that what you want? This fucking shell I walk around in? I thought you were different. I thought you were finer. You like my cock, my ass, my face? I still haven't shown you all I can do with them, Sarah. It gets better."

  It was what she'd been afraid of. Uncertain of his own worth, he couldn't believe he was wanted for himself. He thought she mistook lust for love. She feared she'd made a terrible mistake.

  "Ah, Christ! I'm sorry! Sarah...love...I'm sorry. You didn't deserve that. But please don't lie to me. Not you. I couldn't bear it."

  She realized then that he couldn't understand how she loved and valued him, because he'd never learned to love or value himself. She needed to explain it to him, carefully and completely, so there could be no misunderstanding. She struggled to find the right words.

  "Shall I tell you how I see you? Who and what, I see, when I look at you?"

  There was a long silence, and when he spoke, his voice was weary. "How then, Sarah? How do you see me, truly? I need to know."

  "I see a man who's strong and kind, who fought to stay human under the most hellish circumstances. I look at you and I see ... a wounded hero, a gallant warrior standing brave in the pit of hell, protecting an innocent child, placing yourself between him and the flames, expecting nothing in return."

  He laughed bitterly. "That was selfpreservation, Sarah. It gave me a purpose. Something everyone needs to go on living. Suppose I told you, your brave selfless hero hated you, you and your saintly brother, for coming to take him away?"

  "I know. I knew. Yet you encouraged him to leave anyway. I fell in love with you then, that night, in that room, before I'd even seen you."

  "So ... gratitude and pity," he rasped.

  Finally exasperated with him, she reached over and tugged sharply on his hair, making him wince, then smacked him with a pillow.

  "Ouch! Merde! Stop that, Sarah!"

  "Listen to me, you bloody, big dolt! You asked a question. Now give me leave to answer. Why do I love you? I love you because, in that terrible place, despite all that happened to you, you had compassion for a child. You learned to make beautiful music, and taught yourself to read and write, and opened your mind to books, and when I look at you"—her eyes were bright with tears—"when I look at you, I see someone beautiful and precious, and so very dear to me." She stopped his mouth with her fingers, before he could protest. "Shhh, quiet. I'm not finished." Smiling, she ruffled his hair and kissed him firmly on the mouth and then whispered in his ear, "I have heard what you've been telling me, Gabriel, and I do understand, and I know who, and what you are. You're the finest man I know. Now listen to me. You are not the things that were done to you." Feeling him stiffen, beginning to withdraw, she shook him gently. "Look at me." He did. "You were a child, powerless and alone, there was no one to help you the way you helped Jamie. You did what you needed to do to survive, and there's no fault in that, no shame.

  "You're not what was done to you, Gabe," she repeated softly. "Can't you see? If you were, you'd be just like them. You would use people and hurt them without a thought. You would take pleasure from other people's pain. You would let your anger make you a monster, and you would never, ever have protected or cared for my brother. Not for any reason. You would have used him and abused him and then thrown him away, just like they did to you."

  He gasped in protest, shocked and outraged.

  "Shhh, I know. I know you would never, could never do such a thing. That's what I'm trying to tell you, Gabriel. You're a decent man. A good man. Let me finish. This needs to be said. I don't know why these things happened to you, Gabe. Why this child, and not that one? Who can say? I do know that it wasn't your fault, and you didn't deserve it. No more than Jamie would have if you hadn't been there to stop it." Tears were starting down his cheeks now. She was afraid to continue, afraid to stop, afraid this chance might never come again.

  She stroked his cheek tenderly. "You aren't like them, Gabriel. Through all the things that happened to you, you fought them. They touched your body—" He groaned beside her, wishing she would stop, fearing he was going to spew all over her bed.

  "You couldn't stop that, Gabriel, any more than Jamie could have if you hadn't been there to protect him, but you fought them, nevertheless, and you never let them steal your soul."

  "I could have left, Sarah. I should have run away."

  "You tried to, from de Sevigny. Before that, you were too young to survive, and after, you couldn't abandon Jamie. Could you?"

  He didn't answer. He trembled, helpless, while her gentle fingers circled his wrists, unbuckling the wrist guards and tenderly tracing the intricate weaving of scar tissue, testament to all he'd survived. "No, don't pull away." She bent and kissed them. "These are battle scars, Gabriel, war wounds, nothing to be ashamed of," and now he was weeping. "Shhh, my love," she said, pulling him close and cradling him. "Cry, my sweet angel," she murmured, soft, in his ear. "It's all right, it's over now. You're here with me and I'll never let go of you." Threading her fingers through his hair, she pulled him toward her kiss. Hot tears spilled against her cheek, his, hers, she didn't know; it didn't matter.

  "I do know who you are, Gabriel, and I love you for it," she said, hugging him tightly. WI don't pity you, I admire you, and yes, there's gratitude and lust and friendship all mixed in, and sometimes I can't tell where one leaves off and the other begins, but that's what love is. I'm proud to love you, and proud you love me, and I don't regret it, I won't hide it, and I could never be ashamed or embarrassed by it."

  So much had happened, in such a short period. * Gabriel felt buffeted by forces beyond his control. His world, his prejudices, conceptions, and habitual way of viewing things, had just been overturned. He felt disoriented and desperate to be alone. He needed to think. "I'm so sorry, mignonne, for all this drama. You
r patience is...astonishing. I ... I need time, Sarah. I need to think."

  "You need to be alone."

  "Yes."

  "Will you be all right, Gabe?" "Yes, mignonne, I think I will be." "Do you promise?" "I promise, Sarah."

  "May I keep the shirt?" He grinned, and she knew it would be all right.

  Shirtless, Gabriel left, heading down to the beach. He walked along the sand, lost in thought, oblivious to the shrieks of the seabirds whirling overhead, and the dull roar of rolling breakers, pounding the shore. He'd made love twice, without alcohol or guilt, to a woman he loved passionately, who loved him in return. He'd never known sex could be so rewarding; so innocent and healthy and sweet. He'd challenged her love of him, and she'd responded by stripping him bare, reaching easily past walls that had taken him years to erect. He couldn't doubt her understanding anymore, or her acceptance. She saw him clearly, if in a different light than he saw himself.

  He questioned his own experience for the first time. It had taken strength and courage to survive, to endure, and to protect Jamie. Moreover, he had accomplished things, things to be proud of. He'd educated himself, learned to play music, and he'd taught Jamie, as well. As he tried to see himself through Sarah's eyes, he realized that at least in part, he was the man she described.

  The day was unseasonably warm for April, and he found himself a sheltered cove. Lying blissful in the sun, feeling it caressing his body, he imagined he could feel the earth spinning beneath him. Lost in the sounds of surf, seabirds, and the distant voices of men, he felt a moment's regret that he was hardly doing his duty to Ross, by the estate, or by his sister. He would make both things right, somehow. He'd often thought of himself as unlucky, but that was starting to change. It seemed he'd been offered a chance to make a life, and given an opportunity to prove himself. What would a gentleman do in this kind of situation? Marry the girl, of course!

  Jolted upright with a sudden thrill of alarm, he realized he'd not taken any precautions with Sarah, and he'd been so drunk with love and lust, that he'd not thought to withdraw. She was a lady. She couldn't be expected to know about such things. He might have left her with child! Hastening back to the manor house, he took the stairs to her room two at a time, and pounded on the door. "Sarah! Open the door."

  She opened the door, astonished. He looked extremely agitated. "Come inside, Gabriel. What's wrong?"

  "I... Sarah, I must tell you that in all the excitement, last night, this morning ... I failed to take any precautions. I fear I might have left you with child."

  She blushed crimson. "You needn't concern yourself, Gabriel. That is most unlikely. I have only just finished my courses." He looked at her, puzzled. "It is the wrong time of the month," she explained.

  "Ah," he said, comprehension dawning, "but if we mean to, that is to say, if we happen to do it again, I will try to remember and you must remind me to use more caution." He thought a moment. "You said it was unlikely, Sarah, but it's still possible, isn't it? What if you are with child? My child?"

  "Why then I suppose you'd have to marry me," she said with a teasing smile.

  He gave her a boyish grin. "The idea holds a great deal of charm, mignonne. Would you? If I asked?"

  "If I found myself with child, you mean?"

  "No, if I asked you now, today, would you marry me?"

  "If you asked me today, I would tell you to ask me again in a month, when you weren't so alarmed at the thought of little Gabriel, or Gabrielle, tottering about the halls."

  "And suppose there was no child, a month from now, and still I asked?"

  "Then I would tell you yes," she said without hesitation.

  Elated, he picked her up and whirled her around the room before depositing her, laughing, on the bed. He had some doubts. Huntington would be unlikely to grant his permission, and he had no idea how he would support her. He had money, but it was money Ross had given him. It hardly seemed right to use it when he was practically stealing the man's sister. Sarah had money, but he couldn't accept that, either.

  But there was Davey. His share of the profits from his adventures with Davey was the first money he'd earned doing something he was proud of. Davey had been growing bored lately. He was gripped by wanderlust every spring, and it was past time for him to be on his way. The trade had become so ubiquitous that every man in Cornwall, from the preacher on down, was involved to some extent. Davey spoke often of venturing forth in search of plump and juicy merchant vessels, French ones, overflowing with bounty from Egypt and the Orient. A few such prizes and Gabriel would be able to support Sarah comfortably. Resolutely, pushing all such thoughts aside, he dropped down onto the bed and wrapped her in his arms.

  He stopped struggling after that. It was clear that Sarah not only accepted him, she welcomed him in her bed. She'd seen his scars, knew better than most who and what he was, and had decided that he was what she wanted. He had almost proposed, she had almost accepted, and he had every reason to expect that in a month from now, when her pride assured her he acted under no constraint, she would agree to become his wife. They made love often during the soft spring nights, sometimes warm and close in her bed as the breeze fluttered the curtains, sometimes laughing and breathless in hidden coves, and sometimes on her balcony, rocking together on her swing, hands, lips, and hips joining in a mating dance of lust and love.

  The next month was idyllic. Ross's bailiff had things well in hand, and there were no pressing matters with the estate. Released from the restrictions of routine and duty, free to enjoy the unseasonably warm weather, free to enjoy each other, they were inseparable. Sarah watched Gabriel practice, naked to the waist except for his wrist guards, admiring his toned and lithe grace as he practiced with rapier, cutlass, and Spanish steel. They went for picnics, thundered down the beach on horseback, played music, and sang.

  Gabriel slept in her bed, deep and sound, for the first time in years, eight, sometimes ten hours a night, as if making up for lost time. When Davey returned, they went to see him, dancing and playing around the campfire on the shore with him and his crew, whirling and twirling and reeling under the stars, like happy children. They didn't announce their future plans to Davey, having decided to wait and tell Ross first, as was proper, but their intimacy and excitement were obvious, and if Davey had any misgivings, he didn't let on.

  Chapter

  19

  Wearing the shirt she'd claimed from Gabriel, Sarah sat at her desk, trying to gather her thoughts. It was almost June, and the night was fragrant and sultry. Ross would be home soon, bringing Jamie with him. Gabriel seemed to have shaken free from his haunted past, and the last several weeks had been a carefree time in which they'd enjoyed, explored, and delighted one another. They would have to deal with harsh reality soon enough. She loved both her brothers dearly, and didn't want to see them upset, but Gabriel was her future, and she was not prepared to give him up.

  She went looking for him late the next morning, to ask if he wished to accompany her on a picnic to a local ruin. She found him in the library, sitting barefoot, with his shirt open and his feet on the desk. He greeted her with a dazzling smile. Tanned and fit, dark hair tangled about his shoulders, he looked every bit the disreputable pirate. Her pirate, she thought with a grin of satisfaction.

  He held out his arms and she went to him, allowing him to pull her into his lap. She was wearing a skirt and petticoats today. She had discovered there were unexpected advantages to such garb when one had a lusty lover. She bounced her bottom until she found the most comfortable position, causing him to groan and harden beneath her skirts. As he wrapped his arms around her, she folded hers about his neck, and they joined in a languid kiss. She forgot why she'd come, as he deepened his kiss, drawing her tongue into his mouth. She kissed him back enthusiastically, making soft sounds of satisfaction as her hands roaming happily across his broad chest.

  "What the hell!"

  Oh, Christ, not like this! Gabriel prayed, as Huntington stalked into the library, rigid and bri
stling, cold with fury.

  "Get out of my chair. Move away from my desk. Get your hands off my sister! NOW, St. Croix!"

  Gabriel flushed and stiffened, helping Sarah as she struggled to her feet, before rising himself, taking the time to tuck in his shirt and give her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. He stepped in front of her, giving her a little privacy to rearrange her hair and clothes. "I apologize, Huntington. I had not meant you to find out this way." His eyes, wary and guarded, never left Ross's.

  "You apologize for what, St. Croix?" the earl snarled, shaking with anger. "Abusing my trust? Lying to me? Disrespecting my home and my family and treating my sister like a whore? You gave me your word!"

  "Ross! That's not fair! It's not what you think."

  "Quiet, Sarah! I will deal with you later."

  "I didn't lie to you, Huntington. What I told you was true at the time, and it's you who disrespect your sister by speaking that way. If you were any other man, I would kill you for it."

  "And if you haven't left my home within the hour, I may well kill you."

  Stepping forward, Sarah took Gabriel's arm and pulled him back before things went too far. "Enough, Ross! Gabriel is my fiance. We are in love, we wish to be married, and I can assure you that we will be, so you had better get used to it. I will remind you that 1 am of age, a widow, and a countess in my own right, and I don't need your, or anyone else's, permission! If Gabriel leaves here within the hour, be assured that I shall be going with him."

  The room subsided into a stunned silence. Gabriel was as shocked as anyone, but pleased, as well. She'd sprung instantly to his defense, casting her lot irrevocably with his in front of her brother, challenging him to make of it what he would. His troubles might be far from over, but he wasn't alone with them anymore.

  Ross spoke first. "You are being ridiculous, Sarah! How can he marry you? He's a... well, you know what he is. He has no family and no fortune other than the one I gave him, and believe me, that can be taken away. He doesn't even have a real name. He's named after the street that houses the brothel he grew up in, for God's sake! Remember his background, Sarah. Can you not see he's cozening you? Marry him and you'll lose your fortune and your selfrespect."