Scandal

by Heather Cullman

  "As you wish," he replied, laying her arm on the table to reach for the dreaded needle and thread.

  Julia watched in fascinated horror as he first cut a length of thread, then lifted the curved needle. Had the needle been that large only moments ago? And so wickedly sharp? Shuddering at the realization that the gruesome implement would soon be stabbing her flesh, she tore away her gaze.

  "Julia?" Gideon's voice pierced the black sheen of her panic.

  Julia looked at him, swallowing hard to clear the metallic taste of fear from her mouth.

  Apparently she looked as miserable as she felt, because he grew very still at the sight of her and an odd expression passed over his face. After a moment or two he smiled, a slow, gentle smile that made the breath catch in her throat for the tenderness it betrayed. Taking her face in his hand to cradle her cheek in his palm, he murmured, "I know you are afraid, sweetheart, and it is quite natural to be so. I thought that I would faint from fright the first time I was faced with being stitched."

  "And-and d-did you?" she whispered hoarsely, her breath again catching, this time at the warmth in his eyes as they captured hers. If he had fainted, then he would not think any less of her if she did so as well.

  He chuckled. "No, but I did scream, and quite loudly at that." Another chuckle, this one accompanied by a head shake. "I stopped the instant it was pointed out that the surgeon had yet to begin his work."

  Julia could not help smiling at his droll confession. "How old were you at the time?"

  "Six or seven. I cut my leg falling off the churchyard wall. I was playing at being a crusader storming a citadel full of bloodthirsty infidels."

  "Why, you were little more than a baby," she exclaimed, her heart going out to him for having suffered so at such a tender age. "How very dreadful for you."

  "Not at all. The doctor gave me some sugared almonds, which was a very rare treat indeed. I was so intent on devouring them that I barely felt it when he finally stitched me." He tipped his head, grinning broadly. "Say now, there is an idea. Would you care for some sugared almonds to divert your mind?"

  It was obvious what he was doing, of course. He was trying to ease her fear with his teasing. And to a small measure it was working. Touched that he would make the effort, she smiled back and said, "That is a fine offer, Gideon, and I thank you, but I am afraid that my stomach is rather too knotted to eat them."

  His grin faded at her response, and his handsome face again grew solemn. "This shan't be so very bad, Julia, I promise. I do not wish to brag, for as you, yourself, pointed out, a gentleman never brags"-he flashed a brief smile at his own jest-"but I truly have become quite deft with a needle over the years. So much so, that I feel confident enough of my skill to promise that the stitching will be over before you know it has begun."

  His voice was so soothing, his manner so very kind and reassuring, that she could not help but to have confidence in him as well. "All right then, Gideon. I will take you at your word. Do what you must."

  Gracing her with another smile, this one disarming enough to make her smile back, albeit wanly, he dropped his hand from her cheek and picked up the threaded needle. "Ready?"

  She nodded once, screwing her eyes closed in anticipation of the first shock of pain. Again he dabbed at the wound with the cleansing cloth, and again he did so with such care that she was spared all pain. He was angling her arm in preparation to begin, when he surprised her by asking, "Would you like to hear how I came by my stitching skill?"

  "Yes, please," she replied in a strangled whisper, grateful to have something besides her impending pain to contemplate.

  "I learned from a French surgeon who befriended me in India. When I expressed an interest in his profession, he taught me a bit about medicine. Enough that I was later able to aid the native soldiers under my command when they were wounded in battle."

  Julia winced as he took the initial stitch. "Are you saying that you joined the army after deserting from the navy?" she asked, forcing herself to ignore her discomfort. This was the first time he had volunteered information about his life in India, and she was far too intrigued to hear what promised to be a fascinating tale to allow her pain to spoil the telling. Besides, as he had promised, this stitching business did not hurt so badly.

  "No. I became a mercenary."

  "A what!" Her eyes flew open to gape at him in astonishment. He was, of course, concentrating on her arm, so she ended up staring at his strong profile.

  "A mercenary," he repeated, as if it were the most ordinary profession in the world.

  She frowned, not quite certain what to make of his startling revelation. From what she had read, mercenaries were ruthless, greedy scoundrels who would do anything, kill anyone for a price. Then again, everyone knew that much of what was written about such subjects these days was nothing more than wild exaggerations of the often dull truth. Needing to separate the facts from the fiction, but almost afraid of doing so for fear of discovering that the more sinister aspects of what she had read were true, she stammered, "What, er, what exactly did you d-do as a mercenary?"

  He smiled, as if he discerned her thoughts and found them amusing. "Nothing as nefarious as the title mercenary would imply. I trained the troops of Indian chieftains and princes."

  Julia barely felt the next stitch in her impatience to learn more. "But how-I mean why-" She broke off, shaking her head, trying to decide which of the thousand questions circling her brain to ask first.

  "How did I become a mercenary?" he supplied, looking up from his ministrations long enough to flash her a wry smile.

  "Yes, that is, if you do not mind telling me." He had once said that his Indian adventures were a tale for another day. Julia held her breath, hoping that today would be that day.

  He finished the stitch he was making, his free hand tightening on her arm to steady it as she flinched, then replied, "I do not mind."

  "Truly?" she exclaimed, thrilled that he would take her into his confidence. He was such a private man. The fact that he would offer to share a part of himself that she knew he seldom shared with anyone proved that he was genuinely committed to honoring their truce.

  "Truly," he confirmed. "Where would you like me to begin?"

  "At the beginning, of course." Now that they were friends again, she wanted to know everything about him.

  He seemed to consider, then nodded. "As you know, I was pressed into the navy in London, and deserted in Calcutta. What I did not tell you is that the navy trained me in gunnery, something for which I proved to have a remarkable talent. Again I do not wish to brag, but I am also an expert with a sword."

  "Indeed?" She frowned and shook her head. "However did you come by such a skill?" The teaching of swordsmanship was generally confined to boys of gentle birth, or those whose prospects included a military career, neither of which described Gideon.

  "From an old fencing master who lived in our village when I was a boy. It was rumored that he had once taught at court, and that he had retired to our village to escape some sort of scandal." He shrugged one shoulder, as if dismissing the account as nonsense. "Whatever the instance, my mother held the opinion that all cultured men must have a knowledge of swordsmanship, so she bargained to do the man's baking in exchange for lessons for Caleb and me. My mother, you see, baked the best meat pies and puddings in Yorkshire. Everyone said so." He smiled then, as if in pleasure of the memory.

  Julia allowed him to savor his remembrance, waiting for his smile to fade before pointing out, "That explains how you came by the skills to engage in your, er, unusual profession, but not how or why you adopted it."

  Another one-shoulder shrug. "I did so because I had no other choice. I was alone and without money in a foreign land, where I could not even begin to speak the language or understand the customs. Since I also did not dare to return to the ship for fear of the punishment I would suffer for running away, I was willing to do almost anything to survive. So when a small band of mercenaries came to my rescue in a marke
tplace shortly after my arrival, I was more than happy to join their ranks."

  "How did they rescue you?" she interjected, captivated by his story.

  "I was caught stealing bread and they created a diversion that allowed me to escape. I found out later that they did so because I was young and an Englishman. When they discovered that I was also skilled in weaponry, they invited me to join their band of merry men."

  Julia smiled faintly at his offhand Robin Hood reference. "Then they were Englishmen as well?"

  "They were French and German adventurers, but they deemed England near enough to Europe for me to be considered as one of their own people." Another shrug. "On the whole they were a rough lot with no education and only modest ambition. Save for the doctor, they were little more than swords for hire. Then again, so was I, at least in the beginning."

  "A sword for hire," she repeated softly, liking the exotic sound of the title.

  He nodded without looking up. "At first I was content to simply fight for whoever would hire us. The pay was fair, and the actual battles were few and far between. Since I aspired only to earn enough to bring me home to England, I found the arrangement satisfactory. But then I saw the fortunes being made by the men training the troops with whom we fought, and I grew ambitious. You see, Julia, the Indian rulers are always feuding among themselves or fending off foreign invaders, and they have learned from experience that the European method of fighting is far superior to their own. Thus, they are willing to shower riches on anyone who can teach their troops European battle tactics. Being an Englishman with military training, brief though it was, and experience in fighting with native troops, I was considered to be more than qualified for the job."

  "What of the men you met in Calcutta?" Julia asked, awed and more than a little envious of his adventure.

  "They served under me for a time, and then went their own ways. Except for the doctor, who eventually returned to Calcutta and made a tidy sum tending to the Europeans living there, I never saw them again."

  "And Christian? Bethany said that you rescued him in India." The moment the question slipped out, she hastened to amend, "Not that I wish to pry into Christian's affairs."

  There was a pause, during which she heard what sounded like scissors snipping thread, then he looked up to meet her gaze. "You are correct in that Christian's story is his own to tell. However, I can tell you that I found him wounded on a battlefield after a skirmish with the Mogul prince to whom he was enslaved. Like me, Christian is skilled in weaponry and so he had been forced to fight for his master." He shook his head. "At any rate, when I discovered that he was a captive, I had him carried to my camp and nursed him back to health. We have been friends ever since."

  They fell silent then, with Gideon returning his attention to Julia's arm, while Julia contemplated all that she had heard. At length she sighed. "Oh, my! What a wonderful, exciting life you have led, Gideon. I must admit that I am quite envious."

  "It was neither exciting nor wonderful. It was hard and exhausting, and my bones still ache from sleeping on the ground," he growled, but he did so with a touch of humor. "I also do not want you to think that I fought without scruples. I might have been a mercenary, but I still had my principles. I would not train any troop that bore any hostility toward England and might someday use the skills I taught them against my own countrymen. Nor would I be of service to any man with a reputation for brutality or unfairness, no matter what he offered me."

  "That was very honorable of you," Julia commented. Not that she was surprised that he would adhere to such high principles. Aside from the matter of his blackmail, an offense that she was finding increasingly bewildering in the light of his otherwise sterling character, he had proved to possess an extraordinary sense of honor.

  "The devil's honor, some would say," he countered with a dark chuckle. Now looking up, he added, "I have only to bandage your arm, and we shall be finished."

  "You are done stitching?" Julia glanced down in surprise to see her wound neatly sutured. He had not lied when he had claimed to be skilled with a needle and thread. Relieved to have escaped what she knew could have been a grueling ordeal under less skillful hands, she shot him a grateful look, saying, "You are indeed a master of stitching, Gideon."

  He smiled, a slow, lazy smile that did the strangest things to her heart. "And you, my dear, are very brave."

  She smiled back, feeling suddenly shy as her awareness of his charms came crashing back with a tongue-tying vengeance. Struggling to unknot it, she somehow managed to reply, "It is easy to be brave when one has such a superb doctor at their service."

  "Ah, but I am not just referring to your courage during my stitching, as commendable as it was," he returned, now wrapping her arm in a clean white bandage. "I saw how you tried to stop Bliss from running in front of my horse. The way you hurled yourself at her without any thought for the injury you might cause yourself was very brave indeed."

  "It-it was?" Julia stammered, a warm glow spreading through her at his praise.

  He nodded. "Very. Now promise me that you will never do anything so very foolhardy again."

  "Pardon?" She frowned, taken aback by his unexpected reproof.

  "I want you to promise that you will never again behave in such a foolhardy manner," he repeated. "While I am pleased that you care enough for my sister to take such a risk for her, I would prefer not to have to stitch you again."

  The warm glow seeped away. "Oh, I see." And she did. For all his patience and kindness, he viewed having to stitch her as a nuisance. Feeling as if she should apologize for inconveniencing him, she murmured, "I am sorry for being such trouble. I promise that I shall not bother you if I require stitching in the future."

  He looked up quickly, shaking his head. "You misunderstand me, Julia. The reason I do not wish to stitch you again is because I do not like seeing you hurt. However, should the need to do so again arise, please know that I do not find stitching you the least bit of trouble. Indeed, I want you to promise that you will come directly to me and let me do it for you."

  The warm glow was back, enveloping and embracing her. "I will, Gideon. I promise," she vowed with a smile and a nod.

  He nodded back. "Good. I also want you to feel free to bring your troubles to me and to know that I will help you with them in any way I can." He had finished bandaging her arm and now took her hands in his, lacing his fingers through hers in a firm clasp. "I know that we had a rather bad start to our marriage, but now that we have sorted matters out, I would very much like to try to make a go of it."

  "You would?" she said, her heart flip-flopping crazily in her chest as he again smiled that slow, lazy smile, this time displaying those splendid teeth.

  Another nod. "Mmm, yes. You see, my dear, I have decided that I rather like having you for my wife." His voice was little more than a whisper now, taking on a warm, caressing intimacy that sent a queer tingle down Julia's spine.

  With the tingle now ending in a funny little quiver in the pit of her stomach, she faintly replied, "And I like having you for my husband, Gideon." How could she not at moments like this?

  His smile broadened into a grin that was nothing short of devastating to her senses. "I am glad, for it is my fondest hope that you will someday be my wife in all aspects of the word. That you will one day trust me enough to allow me to show you that the marriage act is not the horror the Duchess of Hunsderry claims it to be, but a miracle that brings great pleasure to both the man and the woman."

  Julia's brow knit at the mention of the marriage act, but she was far too caught up in the intimacy of the moment to feel fear at it. Wanting to believe him, to believe that she could again experience the bliss she had enjoyed on their wedding night without fear of what would follow it, she desperately searched his eyes for the truth, seeking proof of his claim. "Truly?"

  He returned her gaze steadily, his compelling gray eyes gentle and filled with such tenderness that her heart cried out to believe him. "Have I ever broken a promise to
you?"

  She thought for a moment, then shook her head. "No."

  "Then please believe me when I tell you that I will never do anything to hurt you. While it is true that the marriage act can be painful for a woman the first time, the pain quickly passes and she experiences pleasure. Do you remember how it felt when I pleasured you on our wedding night?"

  Julia blushed. How could she forget? It had been wonderful-better than wonderful. Why, just thinking about it sent an electrifying charge of excitement rushing through her veins.

  Apparently her blush gave him his answer, because he smiled. "The marriage act will bring you the same sort of pleasure, only better. You will find that-"

  Scratch! Scratch! Whatever he was about to say was interrupted by scratching at the door. Tearing his gaze from hers to glare at the door, he barked, "Yes?"

  It swung open to reveal Fitzroy, accompanied by a green-and-gold liveried footman, who carried Bliss's needlework frame. "You asked that this be brought to you, sir," Fitzroy intoned in his clipped, precise accents, signaling for the footman to present the stand. "We cleaned and dried it as best we could, but I fear that the sampler is quite ruined."

  Gideon gave Julia's hands, which he still held, a quick squeeze, then rose to take it from the servant. "Thank you. That will be all."

  When the men had departed, closing the door behind them, Gideon studied the sodden sampler. After a moment of doing so, he murmured, "Would you care to tell me what happened? I daresay that the tossing of the frame into the lake had something to do with Bliss dashing in front of my horse."

  Though Julia had truly meant to speak with him about Bliss the night before, as she had promised Bethany she would do, the hour had grown too late for her to do so by the time she and Gideon had finally struck their truce. Presented with the opportunity to do so now, she explained her troubles with Bliss, as well as her and Bethany's views on why the child behaved as she did, to which Gideon listened with a thoughtful expression.

  When she at last fell silent, he frowned. "So you and Bethany think that I have been neglecting Bliss, do you?"