Broken Wing

by Judith James

  Gabriel walked home, to all outward appearances a model of calm indifference, but his heart slammed inside his chest and the blood was roaring in his ears. He had no awareness of crossing the busy street, or brushing coolly by those who sought to greet him. She had been here, in London, just before Christmas! He might have walked right past her on the street. While he and Valmont were presiding over the debauchery on St. James Street, she’d been shopping, going to her lectures … waiting … for him. She was here, in London, now!

  He’d been certain she would think him dead, that she’d be long since remarried. There was nothing to stop her, no record of their marriage besides a note in Davey’s logbook, but she’d told Killigrew that she was waiting for someone, that she’d made a promise. It seemed that she’d kept it, even after three long years. As long as it takes, she’d said. He should have known. Sarah always kept her word.

  He felt like weeping. What folly had possessed him to come here? It was a small world and they both existed on the fringes of it. If he stayed they would be bound to meet. How could he possibly face her? The thought filled him with joy and dread. He knew if he saw her he’d lack the strength to do what he must. Shaken, he sought out the library and poured himself a stiff drink. He was tossing back his third when the chevalier found him.

  “Bon soir, mon vieux. You are the talk of the ton this evening. They say that you frightened the piss out of George Seymour. Literally!”

  “He was annoying me, Valmont. What of it? I did him no permanent harm.”

  “You seem a great deal on edge these days, my friend. I had hoped la belle, Barbara, would soothe your nerves. Is there some problem? Something you wish to discuss?”

  “As a matter of fact, there is. I’ve been thinking of returning to the continent.”

  “Mais non, mon ami! I like it here, very much. There is nothing left for me in France. I have no desire to leave. How can you even consider it? You are rich! You have a beautiful mistress and a magnificent home! What more could you possibly want?”

  “You needn’t come with me. This life doesn’t suit me. I have a mind to acquire a ship. I will be happy, of course, to leave you my share of the house.”

  “You would return to piracy? Have you taken leave of your senses, Gabriel? Do you not recollect what we went through to escape such a life?”

  “Do not lecture me!” Gabriel snapped, and instantly regretted it. “Your pardon, Jacques. I’m sorry to be so churlish, but as you’ve noted, I’ve been somewhat distracted as of late. This life is destroying me. I am far more comfortable with the wind at my back. I envision becoming a merchant captain, not a privateer.”

  “Well, you don’t have to decide it all this evening, do you? I will pardon you if you come and join me for dinner. We have a full house tonight, and Monsieur Villeneuve has outdone himself. If you are tired of Barbara, there are plenty of others to choose from. After your heroics at Brooks, there are several young women, and one or two young men, eager to swoon at your feet. And you needn’t feel guilty. I will do my very best to console her.”

  “Yes, Jacques,” Gabriel sighed, “I am sure that you will.” He followed Valmont to the dining room. Half of Brooks was there, curious and vicious, tittering as they recounted Seymour’s humiliation and eager to see if St. Croix would provide any further entertainment. Lady Wilmont was quick to lay claim to him, gripping his arm and guarding him jealously, hissing if anyone, male or female came too close. For once he was grateful for her cloying possessiveness. . At least it kept them all at bay.

  CHAPTER

  33

  Sarah stood outside the magnificent house, watching the carriages pull up, watching their glittering occupants mount the stairs and go inside. Her first reaction upon hearing Ross’s news had been a stunned elation. She’d recognized instantly that it was true. Somehow, Gabriel had survived. She’d never been able to accept that he was dead. It was more than the denial typical of those who grieved. It was the connection she had felt from the first moment she’d met him in Madame Etienne’s library. It continued to hum and pulse deep inside her. She hadn’t known where he was, but she knew that he was, and so she’d searched, and she’d waited.

  Her joy, however, was mixed with confusion, hurt, and a steadily mounting anger. A few discreet inquiries through Ross’s London factotum, had turned up a Monsieur St. Croix, new to London since last autumn, and currently residing in an opulent home on Chesterfield Street. It had to be him. He’d been in London, just a few blocks away, while she’d shopped and visited, completely unaware. Before that he’d been in Paris. He’d been no more than a few days away from her for almost a year, and he’d never once come to see her, to tell her that he loved her, or let her know he was alive. He’d not even written. Anger and pride told her to seek out William Killigrew, or to turn around and go home, but she needed to see for herself. She needed to be sure. Unexpected, uninvited, she mounted the stairs and stepped inside.

  It started with whispers and continued in a rustling of silk and lace, as elegantly attired dinner guests craned their necks to see. Gabriel blanched and stiffened, white with shock, and rose unsteadily from his chair.

  Lady Wilmont, sensing a rival, rose with him, still clutching his arm. “Goodness me, look whose come to call. It’s the Gypsy countess! Killigrew’s latest discard. .”

  “I would like you to leave. Now!” Gabriel commanded, his voice clipped and cold.

  “You heard him,” the woman draped on his arm gloated. “This is a private gathering and you were not invited.”

  “I meant you, Barbara,” he said, removing his arm from her grasp, ignoring her gasp of outrage. He met Sarah’s eyes. He couldn’t look away. He could hardly stand. Her look was assessing, questioning, guarded. There was no trace of the warm smile he remembered from his dreams. It took a tremendous effort of will to keep his voice even. “Good evening, Sarah. You’ve tracked me to my lair.” He stretched his arms wide, an amused smile on his face, but his eyes were hard and dangerous. “Well, my dear, have at me. It’s what you came for, isn’t it?”

  There were snickers throughout the room, but neither of them was aware of anything but the other.

  Sarah’s heart squeezed painfully, her throat and chest were aching, and she fought to hold back tears. Whether she felt joy, hurt, or dismay, she couldn’t say. His gaze was cold, with no hint of welcome. He was the elegant, disdainful stranger she remembered from Madame Etienne’s. She wondered if her Gabriel was any part of him now. How could he be, and have left her to suffer as she had? How could he be, and not take her in his arms? How could he be, and stand there now, beside his mistress?

  “What I came for, is best discussed in private.”

  He was known for the cruelty of his wit, and his guests waited, breath bated, to see her humiliated for her effrontery. But whatever faults he had, however angry he was with her for invading his carefully constructed fortress and forcing this confrontation, there was never any question. He would never show her the slightest disrespect. Nor would he allow anyone else to do so. Although a flash of bitterness showed clear in his eyes, his voice was cool and courteous as he gravely offered her his arm.

  “As you wish, my lady. Come.”

  She nodded curtly, and rested her ungloved hand on his forearm. He closed his eyes a moment, fighting to stay on his feet, fighting to stay on his guard, as her touch shattered every nerve in his body. He walked her out onto the veranda, away from prying eyes and listening ears.

  Sarah’s heart ached with such pain it felt as if it would burst. It was difficult to breathe, let alone speak. She’d been overjoyed to see him alive, and devastated to see him with his mistress. She wanted to throw her arms around him, hug him and kiss him and never let him go. She wanted to slap him and shake him and rake her fingers down his cheek. She wanted to wound him, as he had wounded her. After all they’d been to each other, how could he?

  “Why are you here, Sarah? This is no place for you.”

  “I’m here … I’m
here for you. I came here to find you and … to bring you home.”

  Her words almost staggered him. A wild longing pierced his heart, and he almost reached for her, but the last three years had honed his control. He gestured coolly to the open doors behind them, instead. “Well, my dear, you’ve found me, and I am home, as you can see. Say what you have to say, quickly please. I have guests.”

  He was so detached, so remote. Somehow, she remembered how to breathe, and when she spoke her voice was almost as cold as his. “I will come straight to the point then, Gabriel. Where have you been? Why haven’t you contacted us? We thought you were dead! How could you have let us go on believing such a thing? How could you be so cruel, Gabriel? You have no idea what it felt like, what we’ve been through. Davey has been consumed with guilt. Jamie and I … we … I just can’t understand it! Why would you leave us to mourn you? All it would have taken was a letter.”

  “But I am dead, chère,” he said with a faint smile. “I’m just not buried yet.”

  She took a step closer and he backed away. “What’s happened to you, Gabe, to make you act this way?” she whispered, reaching her hand out to him, then letting it drop.

  “Please don’t think me ungrateful, my dear, to you, or to your family. But the deed was done, the secret out, and the miscreant whipped to the curb. What else was there to stay for?”

  She looked carefully into his eyes, searching for the truth, something, anything, but they were lifeless and empty, like his voice. “I don’t believe you,” she snapped. “I don’t understand why you insist on this charade. If you haven’t the courtesy or the courage to tell me the truth, pray say nothing at all.”

  She considered for the first time that he was truly lost, forever beyond her reach. He was alive, though, and there was great comfort in that. It was time to go. She would leave him to his mistress and mourn him in a different way. At least now she could move on with her life. Moderating her tone, she continued, “My coming here has been a mistake. I am sorry for having intruded, Gabriel. Please don’t let me keep you from your guests.”

  He’d never meant to cause her pain. He’d seen the wounded look in her eyes when he stood, with Barbara clutching his arm. He would never have purposely flaunted her that way, but Sarah had come upon him unexpected, taking him by surprise. The hurt and disappointment he saw in her eyes now almost unmanned him, flooding him with a wave of desolation worse than any he’d experienced in all his dark life. But for once, the gods were merciful, and nothing, not his face, or his eyes, or his voice, betrayed him. “I am very sorry to have disappointed you, my dear,” he said, and turning on his heel he walked away. Her parting words were carried to him on the breeze, barely audible as he stood on the threshold, poised to leave her and return to the cruel gaiety within.

  “Stay safe, Gabriel, and welcome home.”

  Gabriel moved through the dining room, grim-faced and silent, and left, closing the door firmly behind him. The chevalier knew where to find him, and minutes later, he cornered him in the library. “You let her walk away? Are you mad? She is your Sarah, is she not? The one you spoke to while we drifted about the Mediterranean. The woman you spoke about in Paris? She is sans pareille! So lovely, so cool, so hurt!”

  “Mind your own damn business, Jacques! You understand nothing, and it’s none of your affair! If you place any value on our friendship, you will never speak of it again.” Hurling his glass into the fire, Gabriel stalked from the room, slamming the door behind him.

  CHAPTER

  34

  Sarah returned to the town house and lay awake in bed, blanketed in a deep sadness that was oddly comforting. She was done with weeping, and just wanted to go home. The man she had known, however briefly, had been ruthlessly murdered, replaced by the stone-faced stranger who stood in his place. No … she reflected, that wasn’t fair. The hard-eyed warrior was no stranger. He had always been a part of Gabriel. He would never have survived without him. But where was her joyful, tenderhearted lover, the passionate adventurer, her beloved friend? I am dead, he’d said, and walked away from her, leaving her little choice but to believe it. What had happened to him? She hurt just to think of it. He had suffered and survived so much in his short life.

  “Oh, my poor, dear, wounded angel, may the Goddess find you. May she love you, and protect you, and keep you safe from harm,” she whispered into the dark.

  “Ah! So that’s been my mistake,” a soft voice drawled. “I’ve been praying to the other fellow, cold-hearted bastard.”

  She shrieked and sprang from the bed, her heart pounding. He was sitting on the floor, a half-empty wineglass dangling from his fingers, moonlight and shadow tangling his hair. She shrieked again, in anger this time, and threw a pillow at him. “You bastard! You scared me half to death!”

  Shifting the wineglass to his left hand, he deftly caught the pillow and tucked it behind his back. “Tsk-tsk, mignonne, temper.”

  She searched for a candle, found and lit the lamp, and climbed back into her bed, pulling the covers up to her chin. “You’re sotted!”

  “Mercy no, not yet, chère. But if I apply myself diligently.”

  “Why are you here? What do you want?”

  Why was he here? Because she’d waited. Because he’d been lost in a world of nightmares and she’d come to find him, as she always did. Because she had reached out as far as she could, had done all that she could, and he knew it was up to him to do the rest. As hard as it was, he had to trust, he had to hope, he had to believe. God help him, he had to try.

  “I … I came to apologize, Sarah. I owe you that much at least. Earlier at the house, I wasn’t prepared to see you. It took me by surprise. You deserved better from me than that.”

  “So … you’re here to tell me you’re sorry you let me think you were dead? You’re sorry you never bothered to write me, to let me know you were alive?”

  “ … Yes.”

  “Well, there you are, then. It’s done. Now you can go.”

  “Would you have me beg then, Sarah? Do you want me to crawl? I’ve never done it before, but I would … for you,” he said softly.

  “Good God, no! What do you take me for? I’m angry with you as I’ve every right to be! I cried for months, fearing you were lost somewhere, imprisoned or hurt. I couldn’t believe you were dead. I made Davey keep searching for you even though it broke his heart. He felt so guilty, Gabriel! And now! Here you are! Look at you! Healthy as a horse, surrounded by your new … friends, and only a few days’ journey away. I don’t want you to crawl, or to beg. I want you to explain.” She stopped, drew a deep breath, and let it out in a sigh. “I want you to tell me why. I haven’t the slightest idea what you want anymore. Why are you here, Gabe, and what do you want from me?”

  “I want to be there beside you Sarah … warm in your bed,” he said brokenly. “I want to talk, like we used to. I only wish—”

  “Well?” she snapped. “You’ve made it across town and up three floors, all without spilling a drop, I might add. Why stop three feet from your goal?”

  “Do you invite me?” he asked carefully.

  She refused to answer and he chose to make of it what he would. It wasn’t the alcohol that made him unsteady as he rose to his feet. Moving to the bed, he sat down cross-legged on the far side. They were both breathless, remembering other nights. His heart was hammering. Praise God, she still wore his shirt! He felt like weeping. He had only to reach his hand out to touch her, but the distance between them was much wider than that. He took a sip of his wine, offered her the glass, and she shook her head no.

  “I’m not sure how to begin.”

  She refused to help him.

  “I could not have contacted you at first, Sarah. I would have, had I been able. There was a storm on our way back to Gibraltar. I’m sure Davey told you. I was lost overboard. I don’t know how I survived. There was another man, Jacques Valmont, whose ship was destroyed. He pulled me up beside him on a broken piece of lumber. I can’t remember muc
h about it. I had broken my arm, and some ribs, and taken a knock to the head. I was delirious much of the time. For some reason, Valmont decided to take care of me. I would never have survived without him.”

  “He is the man who lives with you?”

  “Yes, he was the tall, dark-haired fellow who watched you so closely at dinner tonight. We were taken captive by slavers and moved to a prison in Algiers. I was there several weeks recovering.”

  “Why didn’t you send to us for ransom? Why couldn’t Davey find you? He searched all those places.”

  “I wasn’t permitted to write and we weren’t meant to be found. We’d been sold to a private buyer, and he had no intention of letting me go.”

  “But I thought that’s what they do? Davey said they would ransom anyone who had the money to pay.”

  “It was de Sevigny, Sarah.”

  “Oh, my God!” she moaned. Her heart froze, then filled with pity. It explained so much!

  His eyes met hers, despairing and bleak. “Yes. He remembered me well.” He could still hear de Sevigny’s voice, malevolent, amused, rèveille toi, mon ange. He supposed he would hear it always. “I was his slave, Sarah. He kept me in a cell, drugged and chained. He was prepared to sell or ransom Valmont, but he wanted something more from me. I … he … he came to me when I was asleep. He started touching me. I knew what he wanted. I pretended to want it, too. I kissed him, Sarah. To prove it. The same way that I kissed you. Christ! I pretended he was you.” He closed his eyes, sickened by the memory, and wondered if it wouldn’t have been better to be raped. At least it would have been against his will.