The Secret of Love (Rakes & Rebels: The Raveneau Family Book 3)

by Cynthia Wright

  She tried to rise from his lap, but Gabriel held her fast in his strong embrace. “Isabella. You can cry. You’re safe with me.”

  And so, Izzie surprised herself by burying her face in his fine white shirtfront. She wept without restraint. As he held her, an astonishing feeling of security and caring warmed her to the very core. Her mind told her that she shouldn’t hope for anything more from Gabriel, but her heart blindly reached toward him, just as it had the long-ago night of their first meeting.

  “Cleansing tears,” he said softly. “The best kind.”

  She realized that she had been clinging to the back of his waistcoat with both hands. “Thank you.”

  “Pas du tout,” he said with a smile, wiping her tears with his handkerchief. “I have only given you what you deserve.”

  Her heart swelled. She didn’t trust herself to speak. In the shadows, she saw that his sculpted face was serious now. Mesmerized by his male beauty, she momentarily dreamed of sketching him.

  “Isabella, I came here tonight because I wanted to tell you that—I—”

  She found that she had stopped breathing.

  He glanced away for a moment and tried again. “That is, I wanted to tell you… I don’t want you to wear those gowns Justin purchased for you.”

  Izzie knew a moment’s disappointment that he hadn’t made a declaration of love, but quickly it came to her that this was nearly as revealing. “Indeed, m’sieur? What shall I wear instead?”

  “I will buy you gowns. We’ll choose them together.”

  “I see.” It was her turn to run her fingertips over his linen shirt, up his hard-muscled arm, and across the breadth of his shoulder. “I did think the dresses had come from you when they were delivered. It wasn’t until later, when I was wearing one and then Justin arrived, that I realized the truth.”

  He stared into her eyes and said sternly, “From now on, I forbid you to accept any gifts from any other man. Especially my insufferable brother.”

  “And what shall I make of so a bold demand?”

  “I know I have said that nothing can exist between us, but I have come to realize that I was wrong.” He caught her caressing hand and pressed his mouth to her palm. Izzie gave a little involuntary groan of desire. “I’ve been an obstinate fool. I care for you, I want you, and—” He paused to swallow.

  Clearly he was having trouble saying the words, but she was well satisfied nonetheless. “You needn’t torment yourself further. For now, that is enough. I am very happy!”

  “Are you?” He caught her in his arms and laid her back across the bed again. Her gown rode up to her hips and, as he kissed her with unrestrained passion, his hand caressed her thighs and stole between them. “I am going to reveal something to you that very few people know.”

  “How exciting. Do go on.”

  “I lack patience. I pretend to be cool and imperturbable, but I am not.”

  Izzie let soft laughter spill out. “I promise not to reveal your secret.”

  “I want you, Isabella.” He pressed his impressive erection against her thigh and gave a low groan. “I want to make love to you, to be inside your beautiful body, to teach you things that you have never imagined…”

  Was it really possible that he thought her body was beautiful? Izzie couldn’t help herself; she arched against his hand and felt his fingers move tantalizingly in response. It was all like a mad dream. “Oh, I want that too.”

  “Be warned, I’m not going to be one of a group of those cursed lovers you keep talking about. Madame Le Brun may take them, but you will not. You are too fine for that.”

  “I thought we were in France, where it is quite acceptable to take lovers,” she teased.

  “France be damned. I won’t have it!”

  “Truly, I do not recall ever saying that I wanted lovers.” Except you, she longed to add. Only you…!

  Gabriel laughed in the darkness. “Quite possibly it was my brother who quoted you to me. He’s been taunting me incessantly. It’s a miracle I haven’t murdered him this week.”

  “Speaking of your brother—”

  “Please, must we have him in the bed with us?”

  “But, I understood that you and he were going to become real pirates together, with Surcouf. And I thought you were both determined not to—” Izzie stopped short of mentioning marriage, realizing that he’d said nothing about wanting to wed her. “—not to become entangled in romance.”

  “I cannot have it both ways, though, can I?” Gabriel said enigmatically.

  She summoned her courage. “What will happen next?”

  “Tomorrow I must depart for Paris.” Even in the shadows, she felt him looking away from her. “I have new information about the possible whereabouts of the King, but finding the painting may be very dangerous.”

  “Don’t you mean we shall depart for Paris?”

  “I couldn’t possibly take you with me,” he said firmly. “You shall return to Roscoff with Eustache and Lowenna, and wait for me there.”

  In that moment, all that existed was the burning love she felt for Gabriel. The truth of her feelings squeezed her so tightly it was difficult to breathe. Even her brother George and the stolen painting had vanished completely from her thoughts. What if Gabriel rode away from her tomorrow and she was never able to see his face and be held in his embrace again?

  “I will not accept your decision,” Izzie whispered hotly.

  “You have no choice, my lady,” came his iron-hard response.

  “You promised to take me with you. Have you forgotten that I can help you in your search? I have studied da Vinci’s works in depth. I am an artist myself!” Her tone softened as she put her hands on either side of his strong face and dared to add, “And now there is so much more at stake. I cannot bear to be parted from you.”

  Before Gabriel could reply, a cacophony of raised voices reached them from the corridor. As the shouting grew louder, he disengaged from her and sat up.

  “Attendez! Listen…” he whispered in disbelief.

  Izzie watched him swivel to sit at the side of the bed and pull on his boots.

  “Justin, where is your maman?” challenged a man’s voice. “I demand that you make her whereabouts known to me!”

  “Prepare yourself for a drama,” Gabriel muttered as he stood and straightened his clothing. “My father has traveled to Saint-Malo after all…”

  * * *

  Gabriel dressed and went out into the corridor first, to be sure that Isabella wouldn’t emerge to find a waiting audience. Fortunately, his father and brother were standing out of sight, on the landing of the elliptical staircase.

  “Where is she?” Xavier St. Briac was thundering. In the next breath, he started up the stairway. “Cerise, mon petit chou, you cannot hide from me!”

  Cringing, Gabriel opened the door and gestured for Isabella to join him. How ravishing she was, a raspberry-hued shawl wrapped around her shoulders, her long pale golden curls hastily pinned up so that tendrils escaped to frame her charmingly bespectacled face. His urge to carry her off to an isolated château and have her all to himself, forever, was so intense it shocked him. It was as if he’d drunk a magic potion.

  “Whyever do you smile?” Isabella whispered, looking toward the stairs with consternation.

  Gabriel gave a bemused shake of his head. “I’ll tell you later.”

  Justin was holding their father’s arm as they reached the top step. “Papa, I beg you, calm down,” he was saying. “You’ll rouse all of Saint-Malo.”

  “Do you think I care? I have ridden for hours to give that woman a piece of my mind. Does she think this is a game and I am but a pawn who can be maneuvered at her whim?”

  Forcing himself, Gabriel went forward to greet the man whose energy had once ruled their home. In his father, he saw what he imagined was his older self. Xavier St. Briac still had a full head of windblown hair, chestnut streaked with silver. His crisp blue eyes were framed by a pattern of lines that seemed only to burnish
his weathered appeal. As he turned toward his younger son, he tossed off the gray traveling cape he’d worn during his journey, revealing a pair of finely-clad, wide shoulders that were nearly identical to the ones Gabriel saw each time he beheld his own reflection.

  “Ah, there you are, mon fils. Why do you hold back? Come, embrace your old papa.”

  He obeyed, finding an instinctive comfort clasped against his father’s familiar chest. When Xavier drew back and their eyes met, Gabriel’s heart softened. As deeply frustrating as both his parents could be, he loved them.

  “What kept you? Maman has given upon you, I think,” he murmured.

  “I am teaching her a lesson,” Xavier replied with a conspiratorial wink. “You and Justin must pretend to be worried for her safety.”

  Gabriel closed his eyes for a moment and tried not to sigh aloud. Another drama. Of course!

  “Who is this beautiful young lady I see behind you?” his father asked roguishly.

  To Gabriel’s annoyance, Justin rushed to take Isabella’s arm and bring her forward. He wanted to yank her away from him, but then he would appear as childish as his own parents.

  “Papa, this is our guest, Lady Isabella Trevarre,” Justin said. “My lady, may I present to you our father, Xavier St. Briac.”

  Gabriel couldn’t help himself. He went and stood on the other side of her and held her other elbow. His father bent low in front of Isabella and kissed her hand, all the while glancing with interest first at one son, then at the other.

  “It is my pleasure to meet you, m’sieur,” she said.

  Gabriel felt the pressure of her arm against his and caught a whiff of her fresh scent. Why in God’s name was Justin standing there? He wanted to push him down the stairs. Not to kill him, of course, but merely dispose of him for the time being.

  “My lady, we are honored to have you in our home,” Xavier declared. “If I may be so bold, what has brought you into our midst?”

  Gabriel glanced heavenward. “Papa, it is you who has come into our midst. I suggest that you move forward with your mission.”

  “You are right, of course.” He straightened his shoulders. “Point me toward your mother.”

  “She occupies the same rooms you’ve used since Justin acquired this house,” said Gabriel. “You must know the way better than we do.”

  His father gave Isabella another raffish bow before setting off down the corridor and stopping in front of Cerise St. Briac’s door. Gabriel exchanged glances with Justin and they both watched with interest to see what would happen next.

  “Cerise!” Xavier thundered. “I demand that you open to your husband!”

  “Who is that?” came her outraged reply, loud enough for all of them to hear. “My husband abandoned me!”

  “Has she lost her remaining bits of reason?” muttered Gabriel to Justin.

  Xavier gave a shout of laughter. “Have you a fever, ma petite chou? It was you who abandoned me.”

  “But you didn’t come for me!” she sobbed.

  “Enough of these games! I deserve better treatment from you, Cerise.”

  Gabriel listened in frank surprise. Was that his father who had spoken? The same man who had willingly played his part in their “games” for decades?

  Long moments passed and then his mother’s door swung open. Her hair spilled loose over her shoulders, lending her a girlish air, and she was wrapped in a loosely-woven violet shawl.

  “How could you frighten me so, Xavier?” she exclaimed through her tears.

  “You needed a lesson. Perhaps now you will think twice before running away from home each time we quarrel!” He stepped toward her and firmly took her in his arms. “I love you, but I am growing older, and I am very weary of these theatrics. We have acted this scene too many times, cherie. Let us turn a new page.”

  “But—I don’t know any other way to express my displeasure!” Cerise burbled.

  “I suggest we take a great risk and talk to each other.” Xavier glanced back at the wide-eyed trio in the corridor, and then caught his wife up in his arms as if they were newlyweds. “Starting tonight.”

  Watching as his father carried his mother over the threshold and pushed the door closed with one booted foot, Gabriel gave vent to a delighted laugh.

  “At last!”

  “What can you mean?” said Justin, frowning. “I think Papa has lost his senses. Does he expect Maman to change at her age?”

  “Perhaps he does.” Gabriel looked into Isabella’s exquisite eyes, and he felt something new and wonderful welling up from the very core of his being. “And if our parents can change, anyone can.”

  Chapter 22

  The night was unusually warm and still. Gabriel tossed in his opulent bed, seeming not to sleep at all. He had thrown open his windows that overlooked the sea, to no avail. When he lay on his stomach, one arm flung up beside his face, he inhaled Isabella’s intoxicating scent on his own skin and it made him ache with hunger for her.

  Meanwhile, his thoughts went round and round. As much as he wanted to take Isabella with him all the way to Paris, he could not put her in such danger. Lying in the silent, starlit darkness, Gabriel realized that he had no choice. He must go alone, and once he had recovered the painting of King François, he could face Sebastian and ask for his sister’s hand in marriage.

  Perhaps he would never be worthy of her, but it had to be. It seemed that the hand of destiny was at work in his life.

  Rising before dawn, his eyes burning even as adrenaline coursed through his veins, Gabriel washed and dressed in tan riding breeches, boots, and a fresh shirt. Fortunately, Eustache had come back very late and was still snoring on his narrow bed in the dressing room. He was oblivious to his master’s movements.

  St. Briac knotted his own cravat, donned a fitted waistcoat of nut-brown twill, and quickly descended the grand elliptical staircase. Emerging into the courtyard, he turned right and opened the low door that would lead him down into the cellar storerooms.

  Walking through arched stone passageways, lit only by an occasional guttering candle thrust into an iron wall sconce, Gabriel paused to glance into the chambers filled with treasures from all corners of the world. There were tiny windows set high on the damp granite walls, and as the sun began to rise, pale pink rays of light filtered in to illuminate the pieces of exotic furniture, casks of wine and brandy, and carved chests taken by force from the ships of other pirates.

  “That one is filled with priceless Colombian emeralds.” Justin spoke from the doorway, before striding forward to point at the battered chest in front of Gabriel. “Would you like some?”

  “Non, merci,” he said dryly. “One small, elusive Renaissance painting is more than enough for me to contend with.”

  “It is very early. Did you come down here looking for me?”

  Gabriel thought that his brother looked even more dissolute than usual. “I remember that you have always risen with the sun, no matter how late you go to bed.”

  “Yes.” Justin’s smile was wicked. “And whether I sleep or not once I get there.”

  “I came to tell you that I am leaving for Paris this morning.”

  “Ah, so you felt that your dinner with the Marchand sisters was worthwhile?”

  “I did. I am grateful to you for arranging that meeting last night.” Gabriel followed his brother and they each sat on the arched lid of a chest, facing one another in the shadows.

  “What of Izzie?”

  “Isabella is also leaving.”

  “So you’ve won.” Justin gave a philosophical shrug. “It seems she won’t be painting my portrait after all.”

  “You needn’t pretend to be disappointed. I know now that it was never a contest between us. Once I came to my senses, I realized that you have been goading me—to force me to confront my own feelings.”

  “You give me far too much credit,” he scoffed. “I am not that unselfish.”

  “I know you well, brother mine.” Gabriel stared at him. “It is a day
for honesty, I think.”

  Justin looked away, his expression faintly sad for a moment. “I had to do something. Clearly you were suffering, writhing around in a web of your own making.”

  Gabriel frowned. “I hardly think I was writhing.”

  “Oh yes, and then some. It was a sad sight. And when you refused to be a pirate and come to the Indian Ocean with Surcouf and me, I knew that you were beyond saving.” He sighed. “You had crossed over.”

  “Crossed over?” Gabriel felt a momentary pang, guessing what he meant. During adolescence, they had made a pact to share in a life of high adventure, never to be drawn into the trap of marriage. Watching their parents, they’d agreed that would be madness.

  “Yes, crossed over to the other side.”

  “It’s not as if I am committing an unpardonable crime,” Gabriel protested. “I am still a man, for God’s sake, still your brother!”

  “Of course.” Justin looked entirely unconvinced. “But I must ask, what about the life you insisted her ladyship was ‘born to lead?’ How have you gotten around that argument? You made it quite persuasively!”

  Gabriel couldn’t repress a wry smile. “As you have doubtless perceived, that was just an excuse. The truth is, Isabella didn’t want any part of the life she was born to, even before she stowed away on our ship.” He gave a short, self-deprecating laugh. “Once I finally surrendered to the truth, that we are meant to be together, I could only wonder why I struggled as long as I did.”

  “I understand completely why you delayed,” Justin said, nodding. “We have never been marrying men.” A muscle moved in his jaw. “Never.”

  “Just so.” Gabriel stood. He felt a bittersweet twinge for a way of life that was now behind him. He had indeed ‘crossed over’. “It will be up to you now to uphold the libertine reputation of the St. Briac brothers.”

  “Believe me, it will be my pleasure to do so!”

  * * *

  Izzie peered at herself in the looking glass and sighed. She was pale and her eyes were bloodshot behind her spectacles. “I look wretched.”

  “Nonsense, my lady!” exclaimed Lowenna. “You be lovely.”