Tender Fury

by Connie Mason

  “Cheri,” Gabby whispered, touched by his feelings for her, “I cannot do that to you. You deserve a wife who could be legally yours. Our children would not even be legitimate.”

  “To me they would be,” he insisted stubbornly.

  Gabby raised her head to caress his strong, boyish face and to push back the hank of hair that had fallen across his forehead. That simple act seemed to unleash a furor in him as he molded her slender form against his own hardening body, capturing her lips in a fierce kiss while his hand cupped the soft underside of a breast. When he released her lips she was breathless and her heart pounded wildly against her ribcage. He, too, appeared thoroughly shaken by the experience as he lowered his head to nuzzle the hollow between the base of her neck and tops of her breasts.

  “No, Rob,” Gabby cried, feeling her resistance ebbing. “I am still married and I have always held that marriage vows were sacred. I am not ready to break them and go against everything I have been taught.”

  “And I will not force you to, Gabby,” Rob answered, reluctantly releasing her. “But think about what I said. I don’t know why you refuse to return to your husband but when he comes for you Jean Lafitte can do nothing to prevent him from taking you. You are his legal wife.”

  Gabby did think about Rob’s words. All that week, in fact. She didn’t see Jean alone during that time but she did confide to Marie that her identity was known to the Americans and that lieutenant Gray intended to collect the reward offered by Philippe. Marie promised to speak to Jean about her problem.

  To Gabby’s chagrin, Jean told Marie that if Philippe came to Barataria, he would have no choice but to release her into her husband’s custody. Evidently Philippe had General Jackson on his side and Jean would do nothing to hinder the fragile negotiations taking place between him and the Americans. Marie pitied her friend but Jean’s word was law. Getting his men released from jail and the defense of New Orleans were more important than problems between husband and wife. In the end Gabby had no choice but to allow Rob to help her.

  Rob was ecstatic when she told him she would accompany him to New Orleans even though she insisted she would make her own way in the city once Philippe returned to Martinique. It seemed that while she was making up her mind on whether or not to accompany him, he had worked out a feasible plan for their departure.

  In two days he would return to New Orleans leaving Lieutenant Gray behind for yet another week on a final inspection of ships anchored in the bay. Gabby would accompany him disguised as a boy. They would leave at night using the darkness as a cover. If Lieutenant Gray became suspicious of her absence the next day Marie was to tell him she was ill. Later, Rob would find different lodgings so Philippe could not easily trace them.

  Marie proved a willing accomplice to Rob’s plan, thinking it all very romantic. She provided Gabby with boy’s clothing and even secured Jean’s promise to delay Lieutenant Gray on Barataria as long as possible.

  “If you do not love your husband you could do worse than Captain Stone,” Marie giggled. “He is quite handsome. Not so handsome as my Jean, but nonetheless virile and rugged. I have watched how he worships you with his eyes.”

  “I am still married,” Gabby answered somewhat primly.

  “ Mon dieu, but you are an innocent,” shrugged Marie. “You must follow your heart, cherie,” she advised in a rare moment of insight.

  The night of their departure arrived and Rob informed Lieutenant Gray, who seethed angrily at having to stay behind, that Lafitte wanted it that way. Even though Rob assured the lieutenant that he would not claim the $ 5000 reward from Philippe St. Cyr, he did not trust his superior. He wanted to be the first to reach New Orleans. He was so agitated that he was absent when Rob departed aboard the pirogue with the important letters from Lafitte tucked snugly beneath his belt. If he had been present he might have seen a slim, boyish figure wearing a cap pulled low and carrying a bundle slip noiselessly into the pirogue just minutes before it slid silently into the dark waters.

  “These small boats tip easily so be very still and hang onto the sides,” advised Rob when they were well out into the narrow stream. “But they can go where large ones cannot, through hummocks and across mud bars, even.”

  Gabby watched fearfully as one of Lafitte’s men poled the narrow, shallow boat. Rob held a lantern high to guide their way. “Do not panic if an alligator rises nearby, for they hunt at night.” The water was lapping at her hands as she clung to the sides and the tiny boat rocked alarmingly but soon settled down to an easy glide.

  In places the water was shallow and dotted with many marsh islands, sometimes turning and twisting into many false channels. Gabby knew now why they needed a guide. Only Lafitte’s people could find their way, others would become hopelessly lost in the myriad swamps.

  Damp, chill air penetrated Gabby’s thin clothing and she flinched when an owl shrieked close by. She was sure she could hear the swish of heavy tails in the water and huddled close to Rob as their guide deftly poled the small craft first into one channel between hummocks, then into another. Gabby nearly screamed when a ghostly flutter of moss caressed her face. Rob put his arm around her and held her close until she stopped shivering.

  They seemed to have been in the boat for hours when a small light winked in the distance. As they drew closer, Gabby saw that it was a campfire. She breathed a sigh of relief when the pirogue slid silently to a stop against solid ground. Rob helped her out and she stood trembling in the darkness as their guide spoke rapidly to five men gathered around the campfire. One of them disappeared into the darkness and returned leading a beautiful black horse with a distinctive star on its forehead.

  Rob approached the horse and spoke to it gently before coming back for Gabby. Then he placed her on the horse’s back, handed her her bundle of clothing and lifted himself up behind her. With a salute to the men around the campfire they rode into the blackness. It seemed to Gabby that they followed a winding trail forever before finally coming onto a road. Only then did Rob speak to her.

  “Are you cold, darling?” he asked solicitously, pulling her body snugly against him.

  “A little,” Gabby admitted, welcoming the warmth his arms offered.

  “Thunder will get us to New Orleans soon,” he said, affectionately patting the animal’s sleek flanks. “By the way,” he added, eyes twinkling mischievously, “you make a fetching boy.” Gabby blushed furiously but was grateful for his light-hearted mood.

  “Is Thunder your horse?” she asked.

  “Yes, Lafitte’s men cared for him while I was on Barataria.”

  They rode in silence for a while longer before Gabby asked, “How much farther to New Orleans?”

  “Not too far now. My rooms are in the vieux carre on Rue Royal. We’ll spend the rest of the night there. I’ll sneak you up the back stairs, then tomorrow look for different lodgings after I deliver Lafitte’s letters to General Jackson.”

  “Will Lafitte join the Americans?”

  “I am convinced of Lafitte’s sincerity in his desire to aid us. He asks only that his men be released from jail as well as a full pardon tendered for him and his men.”

  “Will General Jackson go along with that?”

  “I’m sure of it after he gets my full report and reads Lafitte’s letters.”

  Lights of the city soon guided their way as they rode through the silent streets. They entered a gate into an inner courtyard and Rob walked Thunder to a stable where he dismounted, lifting Gabby to the ground. Putting a finger to his lips, he took her hand and guided her from the stable to an iron stairway that took them to a second floor of a two storied building where Rob stopped before a door and produced a key, pulling Gabby inside the moment it was unlocked.

  Rob lit a lamp and Gabby gazed around with interest. The room was immaculate, but sparsely furnished. She looked with longing at the bed, it had been a long night, but quickly turned her eyes from it when she caught Rob staring at her with a strange look on his face.

&nb
sp; “Gabby, you must be exhausted,” Rob said, taking the bundle from her arms. “Come, you must rest.”

  Giving her no time to protest, he swooped her into his arms and laid her gently onto the soft surface of the bed. He removed her concealing cap and watched entranced as long, silvery locks cascaded over her shoulders. He took the silken strands in both his hands and lifted them to his face, breathing deeply of the clean, lemony smell. “Gabby, I…” he began hoarsely.

  “No, Rob,” Gabby breathed, aware of the emotions surging through him, “Do not say it. I beg you. We are good friends; we can be nothing more.” Hurt immediately clouded his clear blue eyes but he did not dispute her words.

  “I’m sorry, Gabby. Truly I am. I love you and want you desperately, but I will not force you. When the time is right I’ll make you mine and marriage vows be damned. But for now, sleep.” Then he pulled a quilt from the bed and prepared to make a pallet on the floor. Gabby was stunned by his easy acceptance of her wishes. If only Philippe had displayed a little of Rob’s patience and love.

  Gabby blinked awake to a roomful of sunlight. It took only a moment to remember where she was and another moment to realize that Rob was not in the room with her. The quilt he slept on had been neatly folded and placed at the foot of the bed. On top of the quilt lay a piece of paper. Reading Rob’s note Gabby learned that he had gone to see General Jackson. She was to wait for his return and not venture out alone.

  Spying a pitcher of water on the washstand, thanks no doubt to Rob’s thoughtfulness. Gabby washed and dressed in a simple gown she had brought along with her. Marie had made sure that she had enough clothing to get her by until she found employment. Then she sat by the window studying the scene below with rapt attention.

  The city that had been so silent the night before had come to life. Vendors, hawking their wares, raised their voices above the din of mule-drawn drays. Gabby could even hear the sing-song voices of Negro longshoremen coming from the direction of the levee.

  Concentrating-on her immediate surroundings, Gabby marveled at the beauty of the little courtyard they had entered the night before. It was beautifully landscaped with stables in the rear. Hibiscus rioted beside oleanders and palms. A bougainvillea sent a shower of blood-red blossoms up beside and over the lattice work iron balcony that ran the length of the second floor overlooking the narrow cobblestone street.

  When the small enclosed carriage entered the courtyard Gabby paid it little heed until she recognized Rob as the driver. Her obvious joy on seeing him as he entered the room made his face light up with pleasure. He cared little that she was another man’s wife, he was determined to persuade her to go to his plantation in South Carolina and wait for him, especially since he had just learned he must soon leave the city on yet another mission for Andy Jackson.

  “I brought you some croissants,” Rob said, setting a small sack on the table. “Eat up while I pack my belongings. I rented us a room with kitchen at Patalba Apartments on Rue Chartres.”

  While Gabby munched contentedly on croissants, Rob packed his gear and carried them, along with Gabby’s meager belongings, to the carriage. He had already seen the landlady and paid her, deliberately leaving no forwarding address. After Gabby had eaten, he hurried her down the back stairs and into the carriage. Soon they were traveling through one narrow street after another until Rob finally drove through a gate and into a courtyard much like the one they had just left. As he had done the night before, Rob led her quickly up a flight of stairs and into a large, airy room that served as bedroom and sitting room. A smaller room served as kitchen. It was not an unpleasant apartment. French doors opened onto a small lacy balcony overlooking the busy street. On the opposite end of the room another pair of French doors led to another, larger balcony and the stairs they had just ascended.

  “When did you have time to do all this?” Gabby asked, motioning around the room.

  “I didn’t sleep well last night,” Rob said with an impish grin, “and was up very early this morning. Luckily General Jackson also is an early riser, and when our meeting concluded I went apartment hunting. Do you like it?” His boyish enthusiasm was infectious.

  His desire to please made Gabby feel guilty. There was no way to repay him for his kindness. “It’s perfect,” she said. His delighted smile was like sunshine spreading across his face.

  For a while they busied themselves putting away their clothing. Then Gabby said, “Tell me about your meeting with General Jackson. What has he decided to do about Jean Lafitte?”

  For a brief moment a frown flitted across Rob’s forehead and Gabby mistakenly thought it boded no good for Lafitte and his men. But Rob quickly put her mind at ease. “General Jackson is desperate for aid to defend the city since the citizens themselves seem unwilling to defend themselves. After reading Lafitte’s letters and listening to my firsthand recommendations, he has decided to accept, and gladly, Lafitte’s help to fight the English.”

  “What about Governor Claiborne?”

  “The governor will do as Jackson says. He has no choice in the matter.” He looked searchingly at Gabby. “The document your husband brought over from France was enough to persuade Jackson of the real threat to New Orleans and made him realize how unprepared the city was to defend itself. Did you know your husband carried those secret documents, Gabby?”

  “ Oui, I knew, Rob. He told me about them after Captain Giscard was killed. He suspected someone aboard the Windward was a spy. He also believed his own life was in danger and asked me to deliver the papers to the general should something happen to him.”

  “Yet it was you who nearly lost your life while St. Cyr made it safely to New Orleans,” mused Rob thoughtfully. “I’ve never asked you this, but how did you come to be on deck the night of the hurricane instead of safely in your cabin?”

  Gabby’s face clouded as she relived those moments when she half-dragged, half-carried Philippe across the slippery deck and tied him to the mast. She shuddered, visibly shaken by thoughts of the ordeal. She could almost feel the force of that huge wave that carried her overboard. Rob was immediately contrite as he pulled her trembling body into his arms. “I’m sorry, darling,” he soothed, caressing the bright curtain of her hair. “I did not mean to dredge up painful memories. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

  “Maybe sometime, Rob, but not now. It’s too fresh in my mind.”

  Before he could stop himself Rob captured her mouth with his, the gentle pressure of his lips easily parting hers. His tongue, soft as velvet, made her head spin giddily and her heart beat with quick force. Suddenly her emotions were at war with her strongly nurtured conscience and her strict moral values. But it had been so long since Philippe had loved her that her body ached with a need she found hard to deny. Only when Rob’s nimble fingers had unbuttoned her dress and slipped it from her shoulder to bare a firm, white breast did Gabby come to her senses.

  “No, Rob,” she pleaded, flashing him a look of entreaty. “We must not.”

  “But you want me, Gabby, I can sense it from your response. I love you and I think you love me.”

  Love? Did she love Rob? She was grateful to him and knew of no one else she liked as well as him. But love? Perhaps she did love him, she reasoned, still at odds with her raging emotions. But that still did not permit her to break her marriage vows.

  “I don’t know what I feel, Rob,” she finally said. “I have known no other man save my husband, and him hardly at all, before I was forced into marriage. I did meet another man aboard the Windward but Philippe’s jealousy made it impossible for us to become friends. So you can see my experience with men has been necessarily limited.”

  “This other man,” asked Rob, experiencing a pang of jealousy, “did you fall in love with him?”

  “No!” denied Gabby. “We were only friends.”

  “And I offer you my undying love.” Then Rob kissed her again, deeply, thoroughly and Gabby thought she would faint from giddiness. Nothing in her life had pr
epared her to handle such a situation.

  Although she was one man’s wife she found herself physically wanting another man. Somewhere in the back of her mind she remembered her mother’s desire-filled voice begging her father to take her and her own vows that she would never allow pleasures of the flesh to dominate her life. Only then was she able to resist Rob’s passionate onslaught.

  “I am not free to accept your love, Rob,” Gabby said, gently disengaging herself from his arms.

  Rob’s face was flushed and his body shook with repressed desire but he was determined to wait until she came to him. With trembling hands he helped her pull the bodice of her dress into place to cover the tantalizing flesh he had bared just moments before. “Forgive me, Gabby, I will not pressure you although it is torture for me to remain near you and not have you,” he said, disappointment bitter in his voice. “If I cannot know your love at least once leaving you will be all the harder.”

  “Leaving!” gasped Gabby with dismay. “So soon? Where are you going?”

  “General Jackson has ordered me on another mission. The army is in such short supply of flints and ammunition that he is sending foraging parties all over the countryside in search of them. At the end of the week I will lead a small group of men up to Natchez where a scout has heard about a cache of arms and flints hidden someplace in Natchez-under-the-Hill. I must locate them, buy them and transport them down river to New Orleans.”

  “Is it dangerous?” Gabby asked, suddenly fearful that she would never seen him again.

  “Don’t worry, darling. It’s not a particularly dangerous mission.”

  “How long will you be gone?”

  “Not any longer than I have to. Certainly no more than a month,” he assured her. “I have just enough time to arrange for you to go to South Carolina to my parents’ plantation. They will take care of you. Please, darling,” he pleaded when she began shaking her head in protest, “how can I leave knowing you will be alone?”