“I know,” she sighed.
“Will you marry him?” I asked.
She nodded. “That will anger Christine.”
“Oh, aye,” I chuckled and stood. “You might wish to choose a pretty dress, and perhaps a hat and veil to cover that lip for the church.”
“We’re getting married today?” she asked with horror.
I shrugged. “Everyone must sail soon.”
“Oh, bloody Hell,” she said.
I laughed as I closed her door. Gaston would be surprised, but I truly did not think he would be upset over this turn of events.
There were fewer men in the atrium now, but Alonso was still there. He stepped into my path as I headed toward the stable.
“You might wish to knock,” he said with a teasing tone.
“Oh? And why is that?” I asked.
“The blonde is with him. There have been noises…”
I swore and dove around him to sprint to the stable.
Bella was growling and upset.
Christine was a bloody and disheveled heap in the corner beneath the hammock, sobbing quietly.
Gaston was a huddled mass in the opposite corner, rocking himself with his hands over his mouth and his horrified eyes upon her.
I wondered if the Gods were truly as cruel as They appeared to be, or if They were actually set upon some higher purpose that we mortals could not divine.
Seventy-Three
Wherein We Face Judgment
I dropped to my knees and crawled under our hammock to Gaston, shedding weapons as I went. He was not so lost he did not see or know me. He seemed relieved at my presence, and his gaze was pleading as I approached.
“They will come,” he whispered in French. “I must be punished. Will, I cannot bear it again.”
“Non, non,” I murmured, as I reached him. He did not flinch from my touch, but he resisted my attempt to pull him into my embrace. “You are safe. I will not allow anyone near you. No one will hurt you. There will be no punishing. You have fallen very hard, though, my love. We must calm you.”
I needed to restrain or drug him. I needed to get Christine out of the stable. I prayed the others would stay away.
I could hear them outside: not near the door, but in the atrium questioning one another as to what was occurring. If they came rushing in, all would be chaos. I doubted he would stay as he was in the face of others. Perhaps he would collapse and allow them to overtake him; but more likely, his Horse would rise in his defense, and then someone would be hurt, and possibly even the puppies would be trampled. Yet I did not feel I could leave his side to warn them off; and I harbored the lingering fear from events at Porto Bello that they would not listen.
Anxiety threatened to overwhelm me. That would surely be the end of sanity.
“Christine,” I hissed.
I knew she listened: her sobbing had abated as we had whispered to one another.
“Can you crawl outside?” I asked.
Gaston erupted. “Non! She must not leave!” He began to dive past me: toward her. He had a dagger.
I grabbed his arm, and threw myself with him, so that we both landed almost atop her: me on my side somewhat beneath him. She squealed, and tried to scramble away along the wall.
“Let her go,” I whispered. My hands were locked about his right wrist: the hand with the knife. He did not strain to bring it closer to her, but he would not let me pull it away. I had no leverage in the position in which I had landed.
Our faces were all very close: hers battered and scared: his full of the Horse in all its feral glory. I supposed I appeared very desperate, as that is how I felt.
“Non,” his Horse snarled. “She will tell them and they will come.”
“You cannot kill her,” I said.
This seemed to give him pause.
I continued softly. “If you kill her we will have to leave… Jamaica. We will have to leave the baby.”
He shook his head. “It is not my fault! She is a vile witch! I told her to go! She would not leave! She would not stop touching me! The lying whore! She would not look at me, but she would not stop! She said bad things about you! She is just like the other one! I will not bear them! They will not hurt me again!” But even as he ranted, he backed away.
I could well picture what he spoke of, and I cursed her foolishness; yet I still pitied the poor girl as I moved to kneel between them. She could not have known what she would unleash with her stubborn hubris.
“I know, I know,” I murmured. “It is her fault. No one will blame you.”
He backed to the far wall again, and regarded the dagger in his shaking hand as if he did not recognize it.
The blade was not bloody. I could not spare her a glance; but in what little I had seen, her clothes were torn, but most of the blood seemed to be about her face and not elsewhere along her body. I was not sure if he had merely beaten her, or if he had indeed raped her, and I wished to ask neither of them. I did not want to know, and it would solve nothing if I did.
He tossed the dagger away and curled on the floor to sob.
I crawled to him again. “Oh, my love. It will be well. I will take care of you.”
I needed to drug him. I did not wish to bind him, not in front of her; and I did not feel he would submit to it, anyway. The water bottle was lying on its side near the overturned soup bowl: both appeared to be empty. If I was to give him laudanum, I would need water.
I needed help.
I got my arms about him again, and this time he allowed me to pull him across my lap.
“I am evil,” he sobbed.
“Non,” I whispered and stroked his back. “You are merely mad, my love. And this time another incited it.”
I dared to glance over my shoulder. Christine was regarding me with horror and accusation.
“Go,” I mouthed in English.
She began to move quietly toward the doorway to the stall. Her attempt at silence was futile, however, as there was straw all about. Still, even at assuredly hearing her move, Gaston did not tense beneath my hands.
Bella growled protectively above her pups, and I looked over my shoulder again. I was relieved to see she was bothered by Christine’s approach and not someone from outside the stable. Christine viewed the animal with trepidation: surely feeling caught between two beasts. She began to angle her way across to the outer doorway, so she could stay as far from the dog as possible.
At least I had been spared having dogs growl at me after my violent encounters with Shane. My heart welled with sympathy for her; and then a strange thought came to me: even if Gaston had done what I hoped he had not, it was not the same. Gaston had not been her friend and lover for years before turning on her like a beast. He had not reviled and beaten her for days in advance. Christine had not been betrayed by a lover.
“Will?” Striker queried from the doorway; and then as he must have spied Christine. “What the Devil?”
Gaston tensed and his head came up.
“Get her out of here,” I said.
“What happened?” Striker asked.
He was in the outer room now. Gaston could see him, as he was growling along with Bella.
“Get out!” I roared over my shoulder at Striker, as I threw myself atop Gaston, attempting to pit my weight against his.
“Stop it! Stop it!” I hissed in French to my matelot. “Lie still! I can protect you if you will lie still!”
He stopped struggling, and I heard the rustle of cloth and straw behind us. Terror gripped me. I could not see if they stood there ready to pounce. I could not see if they had retreated. Though he was still, Gaston was still poised to push me off.
“Pete!” I bawled.
“Will? WhatYaNeed?” Pete asked softly from the doorway. His voice sounded close to the floor, as if he were squatting or kneeling.
“Keep them out,” I gasped. “Please. I beg you, keep them out.”
“NawNaw. NoOneComin’In’Ere. SheBeGone,” he told me, and then murmured a
t Bella, “An’YouLady. YaBeQuietToo.”
The dog quieted. Gaston was still tense beneath me; and I dared to move enough to regard his face. He gazed up at me with contrition.
“I want to drug you,” I whispered in French. “Will you allow that? I swear, my love, I will let no one hurt you.”
He nodded tightly, the tears filling his eyes again.
“All right,” I murmured in English, and turned to find Pete.
He was gathering up puppies and moving them to the far corner of their room, as far away from the doorway as could be managed.
“Thank you,” I said. “Could you please have someone bring water? I need it to administer the laudanum.”
“Good,” Pete breathed as his gaze met mine. His eyes were as calm as he appeared, and they held that ancient wisdom I had so often found in them.
He slipped to the doorway, and I heard him ask for the water. They had all seen Christine now; I could well imagine what they thought. I dreaded having to face them. I knew once Gaston’s madness abated, he would rather die than see them and know they knew what had occurred. Yet we had to sail with them. I wanted to run very far away.
Gaston clutched at me, and I looked down at him. His mien had shifted yet again, and now he was as fearful and grief-stricken as he had been when I first arrived.
“I am sorry, Will. I am afraid.”
“There is nothing to fear,” I whispered.
“I have sinned again. I do not want to be punished, but I know… I cannot…”
I hushed him, and smoothed his tears away. “Non, no one will punish you. You are safe.”
“But I did it again,” he sobbed.
“This one is not dead. It is different.”
“Non.” He shook his head emphatically. “Non, it is different. This is worse. I did not hurt Gabriella. I hurt Christine.”
Pete returned with the water. He knelt in the doorway of the stall and handed it to me. “IBeOutside.”
“Thank you.”
He left us, and I turned to the medicine chest and found the laudanum.
Now that we were alone again, Gaston rolled to his knees and came to me earnestly. “She said…” He looked away, his breath coming faster and faster again until he panted. “She said she would prove to me that I wanted her. That she was better for me than you. She kept touching me. But she would not look at me. And the Horse became very angry. I told her I would give her what she wanted and she would not like it. And she tried to run. And I hit her. And then I hit her to keep her quiet. And then I… threw her down. And…” He met my gaze with pleading eyes. “It was not better. It was not like when you surrender to me. It was…” He looked away again. “But I liked it. And… I am evil.”
My hands shook as I tried to mix the laudanum and water in a little cup. I could see what had occurred very clearly. It sounded so much like some of my encounters with Shane. And so I pictured Gaston attacking me, eyes hard and blazing with anger and lust; throwing me to the ground; taking what he would. My cock stirred, and I gasped.
Gaston was not evil, but as I well knew, I was surely mad.
“You are not evil,” I said as I handed him the cup. “Many men would have done as you did when faced with a woman behaving as she was.”
“Then they are evil,” he said, and downed the cup.
“Perhaps,” I sighed. I met his gaze solidly. “I love you, and I cannot believe I would love an evil man.”
I waited for him to refute me with some remark about how I was blind or foolish, but he was not himself enough to argue, and I realized I was attempting to put my thoughts in his mouth. It was not fair to him or our love: he was regarding me with hope and the need to believe me.
“Truly,” I murmured for us both. “You are not evil. I could not love evil as I do you.”
He let out a long shuddering sigh, and the fear gripping him seemed to depart with it.
I guided him out from under our hammock and found his clothes. He dressed numbly, leaning on me for support. I bade him crawl into the hammock, and I located our blanket and covered him. He clung to me, the drug not seeming to take him under. As always when administering it, I feared giving him too much, and so I had probably given him too little.
“Sleep if you can,” I whispered. “I must speak with the others. Can you be alone for a time?”
He shook his head and proffered his wrists. With a sigh, I found the rope he had used to bind me during our escapade with the wax. I bound his wrists before him and then tied the rope to the hammock. He seemed to relax once bound, and closed his eyes. I continued to sit with him, smoothing his hair and rubbing his shoulder, until he became supple enough that I thought the drug might have finally taken hold.
I mused on how much I did love him. I loved him so much I would forgive him anything: but, forgiving him this was not some sin against my fellow man – or woman in this instance – as, if all had happened as he said it had, I truly would have forgiven another man for doing the same. It was wrong and unfortunate, and I would hate any man for doing such a thing to a woman I cared for – and possibly even kill them for it – but it was forgivable if I cared for the man more than the woman. Such is the creature of mercurial ethics that I am.
Still, even with such reasoned peace of mind, I was afraid to walk out the door and speak with the others. But I could not hide from them forever. One of us must face them now, and it must be me as it could not be him. I was our bulwark in these matters.
Thankfully, there were fewer present than I had assumed; and none of them women, who I feared most. Only Striker, Pete, Liam, Cudro, the Marquis, Dupree, Rucker, and, to my dismay, Alonso and Theodore sat at the tables at the far end of the atrium.
I crossed the distance reluctantly, feeling other eyes upon me, but not knowing from where the feeling emanated: I could see no one upon the balconies or peering from the rooms.
“How is he?” the Marquis asked in French as I approached.
“Drugged and sleeping,” I replied in the same. “He is overcome with shame, and fears he will be punished.”
The Marquis sighed heavily and looked away with guilt.
Pete pulled up a chair for me and offered me a bottle of wine as I sat. I took a long pull and studied the table: the wood of it, not the men around it.
“He is drugged and sleeping,” I repeated in English. “He is… He has not been well. He has been teetering on the precipice of a good bout of madness for weeks. She provoked him quite thoroughly. Due to events of his past, and his feelings concerning women and such things, she waved a flag before a bull in every regard. She was angry that he would not marry her, and blamed me, and apparently wished to confront him in private and make him reconsider. He says she would not leave him be, until he at last lost his temper and his sanity and… gave her what she had requested in a manner that he is now filled with shame and regret about.”
There were quiet sighs about the table, accompanied by Dupree’s whispered repetition of my words in French. I dared look up and let my gaze travel to each of them. I found no condemnation, not even from Striker. All seemed concerned or curious. I sighed with relief.
“Stupid girl,” the Marquis muttered in French with a sad shake of his head as Dupree finished. He looked to me. “You told her he was mad, non?”
“I told her,” I said, “but it has little meaning when one has not seen…”
“She has seen it now,” the Marquis said with a shrug and moue.
“I doubt she feels wiser,” I sighed. “She will in time.” I recalled her angry and accusing eyes upon me in the stable. “How is she?” I asked in English.
There were a number of shrugs, such that much of the table seemed to twitch.
“She be with the womenfolk,” Liam said, as if it were a great mystery and would remain so.
“All of them,” Striker said.
I glanced at him, and then Theodore, who sighed.
“The ladies of my house wished to visit,” Theodore said apologetically. “To
see the baby… and due to curiosity regarding your abrupt departure.” He shrugged. “Actually, your wife did not wish to accompany us, but Rachel was quite insistent. And once we arrived, well… They are now closeted with the others.”
“Lovely,” I sighed. “The last thing Vivian wants is to be trapped in a room full of women; but I suppose her spirits will be buoyed in that they will be paying very little attention to her.”
Cudro snorted. “Aye, because the last thing any of them will want now is to be in a room full of men. They’ll be looking sideways at us for weeks.”
I nodded, and spoke from experience with such matters. “Aye, they will rally around her, hear her presentation of events, and hate him… and us. It will take months to sort the whole thing through.” Though, I tried to assure myself that not all women sided with the one wronged: some viewed such things in a far more cynical and pragmatic light than a man ever would.
“Damn good thing we’re sailing,” Striker said.
I snorted with sad amusement as my gaze met the Marquis’. “Aye, but it upsets other plans.” I repeated my words in French before Dupree could.
The Marquis sighed. “Did you speak with her?”
I nodded. “I wish I had not. If I had gone directly back to Gaston, I might have been able to…”
He shook his head quickly. “We cannot change the past.” He shrugged eloquently. “We can abuse ourselves endlessly over it, but…” He sighed and smiled.
I chuckled grimly. “He will, you know. I will have to watch him every moment to keep him from harming himself.”
I shook my head as I thought of spending our voyage to wherever we would plunder chained to him. It would not be wholly unpleasant, and perhaps I could rest as well. We would be safe upon the ship amongst our friends. I should have known we would be safe even here; but truly, though my fears in the stable had been exaggerated by my Horse’s panic, our friends had not always acted to warrant my trust at such times.
“So, did she agree?” the Marquis asked me.
“Oui,” I said. “And her uncle is a Duke. Her father was shunned by the family for marrying her mother, and so she has never made mention of it.”
Treasure Page 54
