To Tame a Savage Heart Page 10

  Crecy looked up at his face, seeing no emotion there, but sensing the turmoil raging behind the façade.

  “And then you arrived,” she said, guessing that this would have been a strain upon an obviously difficult relationship.

  He tightened his hold on her hand and she wondered if he knew he’d done it, as his expression did not change.

  “He hated me from the outset. He started hitting her. He was jealous, you see, jealous that she loved me better than him.” His throat worked for a moment before he looked down at her. “She did love me,” he said, the words sounding almost defiant.

  “Of course she did,” she said, fighting the urge to weep for him, sensing that he didn’t want that from her, that he would revile her pity. “How could she not? I bet you were a gorgeous little boy.”

  He snorted, shaking his head. “I hated her for a long time for what she did, for leaving me, but … but now I understand. She just couldn’t take any more.”

  There was something in his words that sent a shiver of foreboding thrilling down her spine, and she clutched at his hand. “You’re not alone, Gabriel, not like she was.”

  “She wasn’t alone, either,” he countered. “She had me.”

  He let go of her hand, moving to pull the curtains back into place, twitching them until they were even, before leaving the room and closing the door behind them. They moved to the next door and Gabriel hesitated, his hand reached out and dropped again before it touched the handle.

  “Let’s go somewhere else,” she said, but he shook his head, stubborn now.

  The door swung open without the faintest squeal of protest from the hinges, and this time Crecy hurried ahead of him, throwing open the curtains and allowing the daylight to chase away the worst of the ghosts, except it didn’t work. She could see them still, lingering in Gabriel’s eyes.

  “Father found out about her and Winterbourne, of course,” he said, lingering in the doorway. There was a portrait of his father in this room, and she felt he stayed where he could not see it. He was obviously a big man, like Gabriel himself, and that cruel set to his mouth was familiar, but his eyes were not Gabriel’s and his hair was a sandy blond.

  “You favour your mother,” she said, looking away from a man whom she had hated on principle, but now loathed for good reason.

  “Not as much as you might like to think.” His eyes glittered, as though daring her to think of him as a good man, a man in need of love or understanding. He believed himself to be every bit the monster his father had been, that much was abundantly clear. But was he? She knew he had done some terrible things, but was that truly him? Was that the only man he could be, or could he change, if only someone would give him the chance to be something else?

  Crecy looked around her, the dark walls aggressive, somehow, as if something of the room’s former occupant still lingered. Well, she had come to Longwold, desperate to see a ghost, but she’d found them here instead at Damerel, and they were anything but silent. Their voices still stretched out across the decades to torment their only son. Well, she’d see about that.

  “What happened then?” she asked, turning back to Gabriel. “When he found out?”

  Gabriel shrugged, though she felt he was anything but nonchalant as he answered.

  “He brought her back. I … I remember her screams as he dragged her upstairs by her hair. He just went … mad,” he said, meeting her eyes. “There is no other word for it, I think. He raged and wept and screamed, he beat her so badly that I thought …” He stopped as the words grew ragged, and then cleared his throat. “I tried to stop him, but … I think he must have knocked me unconscious. It seems that when he’d had enough of beating her, he returned to Longwold to confront Winterbourne, and the man called him out.” Gabriel laughed, though it was full of bitterness. “I think that rather shocked him, that her lover should object to him beating his own wife to within an inch of her life. He didn’t understand it, saw her only as property. He owned her.” Crecy heard the revulsion behind the words and knew, knew she was right to trust him. No matter what happened after this, no matter how long it took, she would fight for him. “Father agreed to meet him, at dawn, but when he got home, mother was dead, she’d cut her own wrists.”

  “And you found her?”

  Gabriel nodded. “When I came to, I remember … everything was so very quiet. I was afraid of it, and then I saw the room, her room, it was such a mess from father’s rage. He had destroyed everything, everything scattered around, broken …” She sensed his agitation growing as he remembered the scene and ran back to him, holding his hand within both of hers. “I remember thinking that ... that if I could only put everything back as it was …” He choked, the sound turning to callous laugh as he pulled his hand away from hers. He moved into the room, never looking at the wall that bore his father’s image, and closed the curtains, his movements quick and precise, before turning and leaving the room. She ran out ahead of him, the sound of the door slamming shut echoing around the still house.

  How did he live like this? Alone in this big, empty mausoleum? Even Longwold, though it was bigger and grander still, seemed to have more life, more warmth to it than this place. It felt as though Damerel had never seen the sun before.

  He stalked back through the house, hurrying down the stairs, and she realised the tour was over, he would reveal nothing else, not now, not today. In all honesty, Crecy felt relief at that. Everything he had told her had horrified her and made her heart ache for the little boy that had lived through it. Good God, was it any wonder his outlook on life was so … so dark?

  “You should go,” he said, as he reached the bottom of the stairs, walking away from her and into his study without a backwards glance. “Piper will have your horse brought around.”

  Piper appeared at this moment, sympathy in his eyes as he regarded her, looking a little lost in the vast hallway as Gabriel slammed his study door shut.

  “I’ll fetch your belongings, Miss Holbrook,” Piper said, moving to turn away.

  “No,” Crecy replied, her tone determined as she walked to the study door. “I’m not leaving yet.”

  She squared her shoulders and ignored the panic in the butler’s voice as he exclaimed from behind her.

  “Miss Holbrook! I really shouldn’t …”

  But Crecy had already gone through the door and closed it behind her.

  Chapter 11

  “Wherein Crecy gets what she wants.”

  Crecy’s heart was thudding hard as the door clicked shut, but she wasn’t about to leave. Not yet.

  Gabriel spun around, his face so incredulous that she almost laughed, though happily she stopped herself in time. She suspected he would find her laughter neither amusing nor appropriate.

  “I told you to go,” he barked, his body rigid with tension, his hands clenched. He held something in one hand, she noticed, and stepped closer, wondering what it was.

  “But I don’t want to go yet,” she retorted, giving him a direct look and carrying on as he opened his mouth to rage at her. “You haven’t kissed me yet, Gabriel, and I’m not going until you have.”

  That seemed to have spiked his guns, she thought with satisfaction as a new light entered his eyes. This one hotter and fiercer.

  “Oh, yes,” he said, his tone mocking now. “I’d forgotten how eager you are to fall from grace. Was that your purpose in asking to see the house? Should we have lingered in the bedrooms? Was it my room you were hoping to see?”

  Crecy nodded, amused by the shock in his eyes and refusing to let him fluster her. “I was hoping to see your room, as it happens. You can tell a great deal about people from their bedrooms, I think. Though I wasn’t considering spending any great time there with you,” she carried on with perfect candour. She saw no reason not to be honest with him after all. “I will,” she added, avoiding his eyes now as a blush stained her cheeks. “One day soon, I hope, but not yet, I want to know you better first, but …” She looked up now, meeting his eyes and ho
ping he could read the sincerity there. “But I would very much like to kiss you again, to feel your arms around me. Last time was rather wonderful.”

  He looked quite adorably perplexed now, not sure whether to continue being outraged by her, or to just give in and kiss her. She felt sure he wanted to, no matter how he acted towards her.

  She moved closer to him, aware of the tension singing through that powerful body. His expression showed her nothing but confusion, and she didn’t know whether he would storm off in a rage, kiss her with as much anger and violence as in the grotto, or simply ignore her request with a look of contempt. Crecy reached out, placing her hands on his chest beneath his jacket, feeling the warmth of his body radiating through his shirt and waistcoat. How strange, that a man everyone else feared and reviled should make her feel nothing but safe. She lay her head on his chest, hearing the steady thud of his heart. He didn’t move, didn’t speak, and she stayed where she was, aware that there was some kind of war being fought in his mind and waiting to see who won.

  It seemed a long time later that his hand raised, lifting to touch her hair. His touch was tentative, as if he wasn’t quite sure what he was about, and she lifted her head to look up at him. He looked tense, still and uneasy, but his big hand moved from her hair to cup her face, his thumb caressing her cheek. She turned into it, lifting her own hand to cover his and pressing her mouth to his palm. Crecy heard his breathing hitch and smiled, her mouth curving against his skin. Reaching down, she caught his other hand, intending to kiss that too, but his fingers were curled tight around something and her eyes widened with recognition as she saw the wolf’s head.

  “I gave you that,” she said, smiling up at him and feeling her heart swell. He had kept it, which meant he had read her letters. It must do. “You kept it.”

  “I did,” he admitted, his voice rather gruff.

  He allowed her to take it from his hand, watching as she smoothed her fingers over it and then placed it down on the mantelpiece with care. Crecy raised his other hand to her face, nuzzling it and kissing the palm. He moved then, cupping her face between both hands and staring down at her as if she was a puzzle he had no idea how to solve.

  “Stop thinking so hard, Gabriel,” she said, her voice quiet and intimate. “Kiss me.”

  Her breath caught as his head lowered, his lips just as soft as she remembered. Crecy opened her mouth to him, knowing how this worked, now, and mimicking the slow glide of his tongue over hers. His hands dropped to her waist, and then around her, and she closed her eyes, lost in his kiss.

  There had been a part of her that had expected him to kiss her roughly and then push her away, but it wasn’t like that at all. He was tender with her, kissing her as though it really meant something, as though he cared, and Crecy held nothing back. She wanted so badly for him to trust her, had been certain that this loving man was there, beneath the scars of his past. She knew that she would do anything, anything at all, to set him free.

  His lips left her mouth and she sighed as they trailed along her jaw, tracing a delicate path down her neck.

  “Gabriel,” she whispered, the sound of his name joyful and reverent as she slid her hands into his hair. He paused for a moment, and she saw anxiety in his eyes but she pressed her lips against his once more.

  “Don’t stop,” she pleaded, the words breathed against his mouth.

  He was still for a moment, and then she gasped as he reached down, lifting her with ease and moving to the chair by the fire.

  He sat down with something of a thud as her weight overbalanced him, and Crecy laughed, delighted to be here, to have come this far, but her laughter was cut short as his mouth captured hers again. She sensed the change in him, sensed he was fighting to keep his desire in check and wondered at it. If he had pushed the issue, she knew she had no resistance to him, she wanted him and she wouldn’t hold back. He knew it, too, she felt sure of it. But she was nervous yet, in truth, and wanted to wait a little longer, wanted to understand him better, to know him more fully. Yet if he was really such a decadent man, so lost to propriety, why did he not seduce her now, when he had her in his arms, why not take everything he could have?

  Unless he cared for her.

  The idea bloomed in her chest, a warmth that lit up her heart and made her smile even as he kissed her. He pulled back, frowning a little.

  “What are you smiling about?” he asked, still sounding rather fierce, which only made her smile all the more.

  Crecy reached out and stroked his cheek, realising as she stared into those troubled indigo eyes that she loved him, so much that she felt her heart might burst from trying to contain it. She couldn’t tell him that, though, not yet, sensing that this admission might be enough to spook him and send him running.

  “I’m smiling because I’m happy, Gabriel, because you make me happy.”

  He looked really perplexed now and she laughed, moving forward to cover his face with kisses.

  “Oh, my, you’re adorable when you’re puzzled, my love.” The endearment slipped past her lips despite her intentions and he reached up and grabbed hold of her hands, moving them from his face. He looked deeply troubled, now, and she realised she’d still said too much, moved too fast, but she couldn’t regret it.

  “You’ll come to a bad end,” he said, his voice stark now, but Crecy would not allow him to spoil the moment. She just nodded, her expression placid.

  “I know,” she said, sounding quite accepting of the idea. “At least others might think it bad, but as long as I get what I want, what I need … then I’m happy to take the consequences.”

  He huffed and got up and Crecy slid to the floor, but refused to move away from him, though he’d released her hands.

  “You’ll not get back to Longwold before dark if you don’t make haste,” he said, and she felt sure he was trying to sound as if he didn’t give a damn and was failing miserably.

  She reached up and slid her hands around his neck.

  “One last kiss and I’ll leave, I promise.”

  “For God’s sake, just go home,” he growled, but she tugged at his neck and he came to her, kissing her hard and fierce for a moment, his arms locked about her, before releasing her so fast she stumbled, regretting the loss of his warmth as he walked away.

  He moved to the mantelpiece and picked up the wolf’s head, holding it a little behind him and not meeting her eyes.

  “I’ll see you again soon,” she said, feeling ridiculously pleased.

  He grunted and walked to his desk, moving each item in turn just a little, keeping his eyes from hers.

  Crecy walked to the door and opened it, pausing in the doorway and quite unable to keep the stupid smile from her lips. “Goodbye, Gabriel.”

  ***

  As it turned out, Crecy would not get to see him again for some days. Regret at that fact and a desperate longing for him was a constant pressure in her chest, but there was nothing to be done about it. Belle needed her, and she could not abandon her sister.

  She had hoped that Belle’s relationship with Edward had been growing closer, and to her eye, it seemed as though it was. Edward was quite obviously falling for her, in Crecy’s view, but Belle seemed still uncertain of his affections, and disbelieving if Crecy voiced her opinion. This morning, however, something had happened which had sent Belle into a panic, and Crecy’s plan to visit Gabriel had to be abandoned.

  Crecy shivered, cold seeping into her boots and making her already frozen toes ache harder. It had snowed again and the landscape around them was white with hoarfrost, the snow frozen and cracking beneath their feet.

  “Edward!” Belle’s voice, desperate and full of fear rang out across the fields once more, but there was no reply. Crecy took her sister’s arm and squeezed as Belle fought back tears. “Why can’t the idiotic man see it was an accident?” she said for the fifth time in as many minutes. “It was my fault entirely; I should never have tried to wake him when he was having such a terrible nightmare.”

&
nbsp; “He’ll see that, too, Belle, when he calms down. He’s just horrified at having hurt you. That shows he cares, doesn’t it?”

  Belle nodded, sniffing, and they set forward once more. Poor Edward was a troubled man, his experiences during the war had scarred him deeply, and he was prone to flashbacks and violent nightmares. He’d lashed out at Belle, perhaps believing her the enemy as she tried to shake him from his dream, and she’d fallen from the bed, hitting her head. It was a minor scratch, in truth, but the sight of her blood had sent Edward spiralling into the dark, and he’d disappeared.

  Crecy sighed. It was too easy to draw parallels between Edward and his cousin, for her, at least. But Edward was a hero, his wounds inflicted by the war, and so his rudeness and sometimes appalling behaviour was forgiven and excuses were made for him. That was as it should be, of course, he should be treated with patience and understanding. The people who cared for him should support him and care for him and ensure he knew that he was loved and not alone.

  But who had cared for Gabriel? His trauma was no less devastating, and he had been only a child. Edward had chosen to go to war, the decision of a full grown man. Gabriel had seen his parents die in a brutal manner before his very eyes, and then he had been left all alone. From what Crecy could gather, he’d been alone ever since. There had been no family member willing to take him in, and after the scandal, it was unlikely that his uncle, Edward’s late father, would have adopted him. So Gabriel had been left to be raised by whom? The staff, she imagined, wondering just how long Piper had served him and what he could tell her of his master. And now that Viscount DeMorte was a wealthy and powerful man, full grown, no one cared about what he had suffered, what it had done to his soul, his heart. They saw only the man it had created, not why he had become that man - because no one had cared enough to stop it happening.