by Leenie Brown
He groaned as he was jostled by the moving from boat to shore.
“Be careful with him.”
His lips curled upward. She was still seeing to his care.
“It seems we have a welcoming party waiting for us,” said one of the men standing near Gabe’s head.
Gabe opened his eyes, hoping to catch a glimpse of whoever it was that was here to greet him. But it was useless. All he could see were the edges of the blanket and the men carrying him. None of them looked to be in perfect condition. There were bruised faces and bloodied clothing.
And then there was her face. She was following at his feet. Her face also had blood on it, but he supposed it was not hers, but his, that stained her and made her more beautiful to him, for it spoke of her care. He smiled when she saw that he was awake, and his heart beat a little stronger when she returned the smile. He could stay on shore and far from the interest of the city if he could see her smile at him always. There was nothing, absolutely nothing, that he desired more than her.
“My son!”
Of course, it was his mother who was at the dock in the middle of the night, waiting for him to return. That woman was determined to catch her death of cold at his expense. If he had the strength, he would scold her, but as he did not, he would simply wait to be accosted by her reprimands for how he must look.
“There is a cart just next to the warehouse.”
Mr. Newman was here with his mother?
“We can use one of my horses to pull it.”
Tom was here as well?
“Mary! Margaret!”
It seemed the whole party from his sitting room earlier tonight was here.
“Go to him,” Gabe said as he saw Mary smile at her brother but not leave her place at his feet.
She shook her head until he frowned. Then, she did as he said. He could well imagine the happy relief that Mr. Crawford must be feeling.
“Are you injured?” Gabe heard Henry ask his sister.
“It is only a small cut.”
She was injured? He jerked his head around to try to see her. It was a foolish, painful action, but he needed to know how and where she had been injured.
“This is mostly from Mr. Durward. My scratch is nothing.”
“It is not a scratch,” he heard Margaret correct Mary.
“Then what is it?” Henry demanded.
“The work of a knife is what it is!” Margaret cried.
“It is tiny,” Mary protested.
“Where?” Gabe asked one of the men at his head.
“Where what?”
“Her injury?”
The man chuckled. “Whoever he is is examining her chin.” He pointed to a place on his own face, just behind his jawbone. “I had not noticed it, so I am certain it is small just as she said.”
They walked on for a few steps before the man added. “It’s likely the scoundrel who gave her that cut has either breathed his last or will at the end of a rope.”
Gabe nodded. They understood each other. No matter how insignificant an injury a lady received, men such as they would wish to see it redressed.
“Oh, my son!”
They must be close to the warehouse, for his mother was now at his side, squeezing in between the gentlemen who carried him.
“What have you done to yourself?” She shook her head and clucked her tongue, despite the tears that spilled down her face.
“I will be well, Mama,” he assured her.
“How can you say that? You are being carried by six men. You are not well.”
“He will be,” Tom pulled Gabe’s mom away. “They need to load him into the cart. It is time we leave so that we can prepare for his arrival at home.”
“Can I not ride in the cart?” she asked.
“No,” Tom replied. “You will want his bed ready, and those men will need to ride somewhere as we will need them to carry him into the house since I do not think either you or I will be able to do it.”
“But he is my boy.”
Gabe rolled his eyes as the men carrying him chuckled.
“We have all had mothers at one point or another,” one of the men assured him. “And then when we think we are rid of them, we get a wife to take up where our mothers left off.” A laugh rippled through the group.
With any luck, Gabe would have both a mother and a wife to torture him with their care. “Miss Crawford,” he said as the last man was climbing in next to him.
“I am here.”
Those were perhaps the most precious words he had ever heard.
“I will call on you tomorrow. Henry knows where you live.” Her eyes glistened, but she smiled. Then, she stepped back, and the cart began its bumpy journey.
“It was his mother,” he heard her say to someone — most likely her sister. He sighed in relief. He would rest much more easily knowing that she knew the truth.
~*~*~
“Before my mother returns,” Gabe said to Tom later, after Gabe had been cleaned up, the surgeon had done his work, and Gabe had been fed some broth, “would you bring me that ring I showed you?”
Tom smiled. “You are not waiting until you are healed.”
Gabe shook his head. “I came very close to dying tonight – not that you are to tell my mother that.”
Tom laughed.
“One does not wait to do anything after he has barely escaped the cold clutches of death,” Gabe continued. “And I do believe Miss Crawford might actually be willing to accept me even in my broken condition.”
There was a knock at the door before his mother entered.
“You should be sleeping.” She crossed to the room to sit on the foot of his bed. “So many bandages.” She shook her head. “And for a boat.”
“Not just a boat,” Gabe answered. “It was at first, but then when I saw Miss Crawford and her sister being held with knives to their throats, I no longer cared one wit about that boat. What is a man’s livelihood if it comes at the expense of his heart?”
His mother smiled. “She is very pretty.”
“Did you speak to her?”
His mother shook her head. “She was busy with her brother, and I had you.” She sighed. “I suppose I shall not have you much longer.”
“I am not planning to die.”
“No, but you will marry.”
“And you will still be my mother. I am not sending you away.”
“Ah, but I shall have to mind my place.”
Gabe chuckled. “I do not think it possible,” he teased. “You will like her, Mama, and she will like you.”
His mother looked down at the bed and played with the blanket. “I hope you are correct.”
“She is coming to call tomorrow.”
His mother fiddled some more with the blanket and did not raise her eyes.
“When was the last time I lied to you?”
That startled his mother enough for her to look at him.
“I cannot remember when it was,” she answered.
“And I am not lying to you now. I am certain Miss Crawford will like you.”
“You make it very hard for one not to like you,” Tom added, earning a smile from Gabe’s mom. “I hear the young lady sustained an injury while on board that ship.”
Gabe closed his eyes and shook his head. He did not know if he was grateful or perturbed with Tom for stirring his mother’s curiosity.
“How did that happen?” she asked.
“I do not know. I only know that she has a small cut on her chin from a knife,” Gabe replied. “We will have to ask her tomorrow.”
“I should like to know the story,” his mother replied.
“All stories will have to wait until tomorrow,” Gabe said, “for I will need a night of rest before I am ready to share any of what I remember of tonight with anyone.”
“Well,” said Tom rising, “I will get that item you requested and leave it with your man, and then, I shall go home for a good rest so that I am prepared to hear all the shocking details on t
he morrow.”
He paused for a moment next to Gabe’s bed and looked down at him. “I am very happy that I will have the opportunity to hear the details from your lips and not another’s.”
Gabe nodded his understanding. He was equally as happy to be alive to share the details.
“I will leave you when you are sleeping.” His mother ran a hand up and down the lower portion of the leg that was near her.
He had known she would be reluctant to leave him. He could not blame her. Truth be told, he was happy to have her stay and give him some comfort. “Pull that chair up here and hold my hand.”
She scooted to do as he asked, settling into the chair and smiling happily as she took his hand.
He squeezed that comforting hand. “I will tell you this much about tonight because I think it will help you feel more at ease about Miss Crawford.” He sighed. “As far as I can tell, Miss Crawford travelled from my ship to the dock with her head resting on my chest to listen to my heart.”
His mother gasped softly and brushed at the tears that gathered on her lower lashes. She lifted his hand and kissed it. “You have found a very good lady.”
He nodded. He had. Miss Crawford was the perfect lady for him.
His mother settled back into the chair and rested her head against the wing of the back as she held his hand. “She will care for you very well,” she whispered. “This is very good.”
In that moment, Gabe realized that his mother’s anxiety in meeting Miss Crawford was not just because she feared that Miss Crawford would not like her or that she would not like Miss Crawford. It was as it always was with his mother. She was concerned that he was well. Gabe squeezed her hand and closed his eyes, hoping to dream of that very good lady of whom his mother already most heartily approved.
Chapter 16
“And that is when I saw Miss Crawford and Mrs. Grant were on board the ship.” Gabe paused in his tale, to take a sip of tea.
Mary’s heart raced even now, remembering that moment. She could still feel the cool edge of the knife against her neck and smell the foul odor of the man holding her. She was sure he had not seen a speck of soap in several weeks. But it was not the rank filthiness of the man nor the threat of harm which had caused her to feel as if she would faint dead away.
She drew a breath and quietly sighed as she shared a smile with Mr. Durward. He was alive, and though he appeared somewhat battered and bruised, he looked as if he was doing well for someone who had come so close to death’s door. She pressed her lips together and glanced down at her cup of tea. She had no desire to cry in a room filled with so many people.
“Were you not frightened?” Gabe’s mother directed her question to Mary and Margaret.
“Terrified,” Margaret answered, “and not just for ourselves. Your son offered his life in exchange for ours!”
Mary watched horror battle with pride in the lady’s eyes.
“I could do no less.”
His mother sighed and nodded as if she knew it was true. A small smile tipped her lips, and she seemed content with the answer. It was amazing to Mary to witness a relationship such as Gabe had with his mother. It was so foreign to her. If Mary had not already come to know that she could trust Mr. Durward, she would have been thoroughly won over by watching him here today with his mother. They seemed to understand and respect each other, and even when there were small disagreements – over things such as if Gabe had enough blankets – they did not dissolve into fits of pique or harsh words. One or the other would simply choose to defer to the other.
“And then we were hauled below – and none too gently, mind you,” Margaret continued. “And that is when Mary received that gash on her chin.”
“It is not a gash!” Mary cried.
Mrs. Durward opened her mouth as if she wished to say something and then thinking better of it closed it again.
Gabe chuckled. “I think you should show your wound to us so that we may judge if it is you or your sister who is correct.”
“It did not even require a stitch,” Mary protested. “It can barely be claimed as an injury.”
“Had it not come at the end of some fiendish man’s knife, I might allow that to be true,” Margaret said.
Mary sighed.
“I know I’d like to see it,” Gabe said.
Embarrassment painted Mary’s cheeks as she tipped her head back to expose the underside of her chin to the group. “He only pierced the skin. It is no bigger than a prick.”
“It is very red,” Mrs. Durward said. “It might require a poultice to keep it from getting infected. Infection needs only a tiny opening to set about its dangerous work, you know.”
“It does look a little angry,” Gabe agreed with a smile for Mary when she returned her head to its proper position.
“It is sore,” Mary admitted sheepishly.
Mrs. Durward, who was sitting on Mary’s right while Gabe was on Mary’s left, placed a hand on Mary’s arm. “You will put something on it when you return home, will you not?”
Mary nodded. “Margaret will see that I do.”
“She is a good sister to you,” Mrs. Durward added.
Mary could not help how fond she was growing of Mrs. Durward. The lady was a small bundle of energy, fueled, it seemed, by motherly care for everyone she met. She had insisted on Mary and Margaret sitting nearest the hearth. Tom appeared to be much like a second son to the lady, and she had inquired after Mr. Waller’s comfort several times as well as Henry’s, although Mr. Waller looked as if he needed care a lot more than Henry did.
“How did you escape Mr. Radcliff’s gun?” Mary asked Gabe.
“Waller.”
“The other men and I had crept aboard the ship while Durward had Radcliff and his men’s attention.” Mr. Waller sighed. “Had my aim been better, the battle would have been over much sooner than it was. I missed my mark but a few inches.” He pointed to his chest and then moved his finger to his left shoulder as he spoke indicating both where he had aimed and where he actually hit.
“I am thankful for the shot no matter where it hit Radcliff,” Gabe said plainly.
“It was fortunate your shot was better than mine,” Waller replied.
Gabe nodded. “I am not saying your incentive for accuracy was not great, Waller, but I think mine was far greater.” He took Mary’s hand, causing her to blush and dip her head.
“I would not disagree with such a claim,” Waller said.
Tom stood. “I should likely contrive some reason to persuade you all to leave the room and allow Gabe and Miss Crawford some privacy, but I have not been able to come up with one. Therefore, I suggest we all take our leave and perhaps enjoy another cup of tea in the morning room.”
Mary thought her cheeks were about to burst into flames from discomposure while her heart would leap from her chest in delight.
“We could play cards,” Mrs. Durward suggested. Then with what Mary imagined was a motherly pat of reassurance on Mary’s arm, the lady rose and led the group from the room.
“That was not done with any great amount of grace, but it was effective,” Gabe said as Tom closed the door to the sitting room. “And I suppose it will make it more obvious and humiliating if you refuse me.”
Mary shook her head. “I will not refuse.”
Gabe chuckled. “You have not heard my offer. I might be asking you to be my scullery maid,” he teased.
“Would you visit me in the kitchen every day?” Mary asked playfully.
“I would likely spend my entire day in the kitchen if you were there,” he replied.
“Then, I would still not refuse. However, your cook would probably send me packing within a fortnight, if she allowed me to stay that long.” She lifted the hand that held hers and kissed it.
“You would scrub dishes in my kitchen if I asked you to do so?” His voice had turned soft and quiet.
“You offered your life and your ship to save my life and that of my sister, I would do anything you asked me to do.�
�� Tears filled her eyes. How easily they sprang up now that she had found a reason to no longer guard her heart so fiercely.
“So it would be out of duty – some sort of repayment?” His left brow arched but his lips curled into a smile as if he knew what her answer would be.
“No.” She said only that one word and returned his smile. If he was going to lead her down some merry path, she was not going to deny either him or herself the pleasure.
“Then what would it be?” He shifted in his chair so that he was closer to her. “Blasted injuries,” he grumbled. “I would rather be much closer to you than I am.”
Mary released his hand and, rising, pushed her chair closer to his.
“I did not even ask, and yet, you have done what I wish,” he teased while reaching forward to see if he could touch her cheek.
Mary pressed herself close to the arm of the chair. Still, it was not quite enough to allow him to touch her without straining.
He tipped his head and looked at her.
“What are you thinking?” she asked cautiously.
“It is most improper, but I was thinking that my lap is not broken. My stitches are in my arm and the lower portion of my leg. The rest of me is battered and sore, but you would do me no harm if you were to join me in my chair.”
“I fear if we are discovered, there will be a price to pay,” Mary teased.
“Are you afraid to pay it?”
Mary shook her head and moved to perch gently on his lap. It was most improper and yet pleasantly so. She attempted to relax and snuggle into his embrace when he wrapped his unbandaged arm around her and pulled her close.
“Now, why do you not tell me why you would do whatever it is that I ask of you?”
Her cheeks flushed at his deeper tone of voice. An innocent she might be, but naïve, she was not. She hoped that her own voice would not carry too much of her desire for him when she spoke. However, she was not able to hide it all, and as she spoke, he wrapped his arm around her more tightly.
“I know that you would never allow me to take on water – I believe that is how you said it.”
He chuckled. “It is.”
