To Tame a Savage Heart Page 11

  Crecy swallowed hard, blinking back her own tears. Well, they would find Edward, and Belle would continue to work her magic. It was obvious to Crecy that they were made for each other, and she felt confident that they would make it work in time. And as for Gabriel …

  Crecy sighed, smiling as she remembered his kiss, the puzzled look in his eyes when he discovered she was happy, that he had made her happy. She hoped he wasn’t too disappointed that she hadn’t come today. Not that he would ever admit it if he was. But she began to wonder if he would worry, if he would believe that she hadn’t wanted to come. Slowly, it dawned on her that this was exactly what he would believe. Frowning, she tried to figure out how she could get a message to him as she tramped through the snow. It wouldn’t be easy.

  An hour later and Crecy was shivering in earnest.

  "You two should get on back inside, it's freezin'," Edward’s rather unusual if devoted valet, Charlie, said with concern in his eyes. He was met with a predictably irritated expression from Belle, who had heard him say the same thing every half hour since they’d begun, and ignored him every time. “Look 'ere, Lady Winterbourne, ye sister is freezin', take 'er 'ome, at least."

  "I'm fine!" Crecy shot back, indignant at being used as an excuse, though, to be honest, she was frozen to the core.

  "No, you're not," Belle said, admitting defeat though she was clearly disappointed. "We're never going to find him, are we?" Crecy took her hand as poor Belle sounded so heartbroken it made her want to cry.

  Charlie shrugged, but his expression wasn't encouraging. "The fellow grew up 'ere, knows every inch of this vast estate. I reckon we won't find 'im if he don't want t' be found."

  Belle swallowed down a sob of despair, and Crecy pulled her into a hug. Charlie's face softened. He came closer and laid a hand on Belle’s arm. "I'll keep lookin' once yer back 'ome, so don't you fret so. He's tough as old boots, is Eddie. Bit o' cold ain't enough to do for 'im, I promise ye that."

  Belle nodded, giving a smile that didn’t fool either of them. "Come along, Crecy. Charlie is right, of course, and I can't be responsible for you taking ill."

  "I told you, I'm perfectly fine, Belle," Crecy grumbled, though she realised her assurance was rather spoiled by the fierce way her teeth were chattering.

  "Humour me," Belle said with a smile, taking her sister's arm. "We'll keep looking on the way back."

  Crecy sank back into her own worries about Gabriel as they trudged back to Longwold. Perhaps she could bribe one of the maids to put a letter in the post. Only everyone was so devoted to Edward, and loathed Gabriel so much, she wondered who on earth would take her up on it and not tell Edward or her sister. Perhaps the young man who was supposed to accompany her on her rides. When he was supposed to be with her, he slipped away to see his sweetheart so he had no idea where she went to, and as much as she would have to trust him with her secret, so he was trusting her with his. It was a risk, but she had little choice.

  A distressed, squawking sound made her jump and she looked around, wondering where it had come from. Letting go of Belle’s arm, her sister made a sound of protest but did not bother trying to stop her as she headed into the woods.

  She heard Charlie demanding what she was up to as she ducked her head and pulled at her pelisse, which was snagged on a bramble. The cry came again and Crecy pushed on, heedless of the damage to her clothes as she saw a large bird, hopping and listing to one side as it tried to move away.

  “Hush, now, hush, it’s all right,” she said, keeping her voice soft and soothing as she moved closer. The magpie squawked and tried to fly off, but the brambles overhead impeded it and it hit the ground again in an undignified flurry of feathers. Crecy rushed forward and scooped it up, wincing as the bird pecked at her fingers with its sharp beak. “It’s all right,” she soothed, holding it against her and stroking the top of its head. “I’m not going to hurt you, I promise.”

  Whether it was just admitting defeat and giving itself up to be eaten or whether it truly understood she was no danger to it, she didn’t know. But to her relief, the pecking stopped. She emerged from the undergrowth with bits of twig and leaf in her hair, and Belle greeted her with an affectionate, if long-suffering, expression.

  “It’s a magpie,” she said, grinning at Belle, who rolled her eyes. “The poor fellow has broken its leg, I think.”

  "Poor devil," Charlie muttered, giving the bird she held a leery expression. "Give it over, Miss Lucretia. I'll take care o' the wretched blighter for ye. Musn't let 'im suffer, eh?"

  Crecy glared at him in fury, revolted by the idea. "No!" she exclaimed, holding the bird a little tighter and moving away from him. "I can mend his leg. He'll be fine in a few weeks."

  Charlie grimaced at her and shook his head. "An' whatcha gonna do with the poor bugger 'til then, 'scuse my French?" he added, obviously remembering who he was speaking with. "Things probably crawlin' with fleas, and ... ugh."

  "I don't care!" Crecy flung back at him.

  "Be kinder to put the thing out o' its misery," Charlie grumbled at her as Crecy moved further away, just in case.

  "Would you put me down as fast, Charlie?"

  They all started in surprise as Edward appeared, looking dirty and dishevelled as though he’d slept in a ditch. Crecy moved away to give Belle some privacy, but turned around a moment later as Edward’s voice rang out. “Don’t touch me!”

  Belle jumped away from him and Crecy’s heart sank. She watched as Belle called him back, but Edward just stalked away from her. Crecy returned to Belle, finding Charlie with her, talking to her softly.

  “You’re a good friend to him, Charlie,” Belle said, her voice so sad and yet so full of gratitude that Crecy’s heart clenched. Charlie blushed a little at the compliment and touched his fingers to his hat before striding off ahead of them.

  "You can't let him push you away, Belle," Crecy said, her voice low as she stroked the head of the bewildered-looking magpie.

  Belle smiled at her sister and nodded. "I know that, Crecy, and believe me, I have no intention of letting him succeed." Crecy nodded, smiling at her, and they walked back to the house. Both of them had challenges ahead, that was for sure, but Crecy felt sure that Belle would win her battle. It remained to be seen if her own advances were of any significance, and if there was hope for her, too.

  Chapter 12

  “Wherein darkness takes a hold and a spark catches.”

  Gabriel turned Typhon for home. The sun was sinking and he was chilled to the bone. She wasn’t coming. That was clear enough. Worse, he was acting like a bloody fool. What in God’s name did he expect? She’d likely gotten what she wanted, bearded the lion in his den and won. She was probably gloating. Right now, she was probably laughing her head off with her blasted sister and bragging how she’d had the terrifying Viscount DeMorte eating out of her hand.

  His gut clenched, an unfamiliar ache spiralling out from his heart that he refused to acknowledge.

  You’re a fool, Gabriel, a weak, pathetic fool. The girl used you, Edward probably sent her. They’re probably all laughing at you now. You’ve messed up again, you worthless excuse for a man. Can you do nothing right?

  He rode harder, Typhon thundering across the fields back to Damerel House. The wind rushed in his ears, the cold stinging his skin and his eyes, but nothing could drown out his father’s voice.

  The next days were bad. The little sleep he usually managed evaded him as thoughts of Crecy slid into his mind and refused to be pushed away. He remembered every detail, every touch, every remembered sensation. If he closed his eyes, he could feel the silk of her hair against his fingertips, see the tiny freckle on her right cheek, recall the gentle touch of her hands against his face. He remembered the way she had run to hold his hand when he’d told her something of his past, rushing to comfort him as no one had ever done before, and the way she had said his name … like it actually meant something. Every moment was relived in tiny detail, played over and again in his mind with obsess
ive accuracy. Oh God, as if he needed another obsession.

  He was clinging to normality by his fingertips - or his idea of what passed for it, at least. It took him twice as long to leave his room that morning, driven to check and recheck the items on his dressing table until he wanted to scream with frustration, to rage and shout at the young woman who had forced her way into his life when he hadn’t wanted her to, hadn’t given her the slightest encouragement. Why the hell did she do it? What in the name of God could she possibly get out of tormenting him?

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

  Liar.

  He went to his study and sat down behind his desk, determined to leave thoughts of her behind. The stack of correspondence at his elbow beckoned him, and he forced himself to straighten the items on his desk - no more than usual - before reaching for the first letter from his lawyer. It should have been answered before now, but he’d been too distracted. Anger bit hard, along with a scalding rush of embarrassment at himself for allowing such a forward slip of a girl to get under his skin. Scanning the missive briefly, he reached for paper and pen and scribbled a reply, his writing less legible than usual. He had always thought it strange how someone like himself, who strived so hard for perfection and order, could have such sloppy handwriting. One of the ironies of his life.

  Gabriel.

  The sound of his name on her lips stilled his hand and he closed his eyes. He’d thought the echo of his father’s voice was torment enough. Foolishly, he’d thought there could be nothing in the world that could torture him more than that.

  “She was just toying with you, you bloody fool,” he muttered, signing the letter with an angry sweep of his hand before reaching for the pounce pot and shaking it over the letter. With the greatest care that none of the fine dust should cover his desk, he lifted the letter and sifted the excess back into the pot. Satisfied that that the ink was dry, he folded it with his usual precision and melted a seal on the join, pressing his signet ring into the soft wax.

  The next letter was reached for and the process repeated, all the while with Crecy’s soft voice lingering at the back of his mind while his father’s voice mocked him for it.

  He sealed the next letter, adding it to the first, and hauled in a breath, bracing his elbows on the table and covering his ears, as though that would make it stop. Gabriel breathed in and out, trying to keep the breaths even and to not allow the dark clouds gathering in his mind to swallow him up.

  A knock at the door brought his head up, and he barked a demand for Piper to enter. The blasted fellow was grinning - actually grinning - as he hurried forward and presented the tray to Gabriel. The letter was addressed in a familiar, extravagantly looping handwriting that made his breath catch. He snatched for it, avoiding the man’s eyes. Getting to his feet, he turned his back on Piper, too aware that his reaction was revealing.

  To his relief, he heard the door close as Piper left him alone, and he broke the seal, refusing to acknowledge that his heart was thudding harder than usual. Too hard.

  My dearest friend,

  I am so sorry that I have not been able to visit you, but my sister has been rather out of sorts and has needed my company. She has borne with me and my strange ways with such devotion over the years that I cannot abandon her, not even for you, though it is far harder than you perhaps realise for me to stay away.

  I miss you. I miss you so much, dearest Gabriel, and I count the minutes until I can see you again. Did you think it otherwise? Did you think I had deceived you and tricked you into playing some twisted game?

  I know you, Gabriel. I know you like I know my own soul. You belong with me and I won’t let you go.

  If you believe nothing else, believe this: I am thinking of you, every moment of every day, and I won’t be able to breathe freely again until I am with you.

  I will come to you as soon as I am able to.

  Yours, ever,

  Crecy

  Gabriel sat down, the letter still in his hands as he read it over and again. There was a tightness in his throat as the words sank into him, sliding under his skin and finding their way into the cold, dark depths of his heart. Something lit there, a spark in the bleak expanse of nothingness that had swallowed up his ability to feel, to understand, to empathise. It was frail and tentative, but it was there, a living thing that threatened to blaze and illuminate all the darkest corners of his soul.

  It was terrifying.

  A part of him wanted to snuff it out, to extinguish it before it had the chance to take a hold of him and blaze like a forest fire, raging out of control. His father’s voice urged him on in this, telling him she was only tricking him further, snaring him tighter in her clutches so that her victory would be all the more complete when she revealed her true nature and laughed in his face. But Gabriel wouldn’t let it happen. He shielded the spark that she had struck, like a match flame against the storm of his father’s ridicule, against his own self-destructive nature. She would come to him again. She would.

  And perhaps he was the biggest fool alive, but he would be waiting.

  ***

  Crecy looked at the drawing in her hand with a critical eye. She had no great confidence in her skill with a pencil, but she thought that perhaps it was a passable likeness. It was the best her limited skills could achieve, at any rate. Turning it over, she tried to think of the words she needed, the pencil hovering over the paper with indecision. How to tell him everything she wanted to without scaring him off was becoming a dilemma. She just wasn’t sure how far he could be pushed, and how fast. For her own part, impatience was her own cross to bear. Thoughts of spending all of her days with him, and more significantly all of her nights, were becoming increasingly hard to ignore.

  Crecy had done her best to keep Belle company, throwing herself into decorating the vastness of Longwold for Christmas with all the enthusiasm she could muster. But her thoughts were never far from Gabriel, all alone in that big, empty building he called his home. She didn’t think for a moment that there would be Christmas decorations there, that anyone would visit him and wish him merry. She felt as though her heart was bleeding from an open wound whenever she thought of it, and knew she would grab the next chance she had to see him, no matter how risky.

  As it turned out, it was easier than she expected. Belle was preoccupied herself and had been spending time with her guest, Lady Falmouth since she and her husband had returned for the Christmas period. So no one noticed when Crecy disappeared for a long ride early on Christmas Eve. Her love of riding and being in the fresh air, no matter the weather, was well known by now, so it didn’t seem at all strange.

  She waved to Jack Crowther, the stable boy, as they parted ways, him to visit his sweetheart, Crecy to her own. She had paid him well for delivering the letter to Gabriel, and he had spent it on a gift for his girl. The idea pleased her.

  Crecy rode hard, her eagerness to be with Gabriel making her more reckless than usual. By the time she crossed the border onto his land she was flushed and breathless, her heart pounding wildly, but it beat harder still when she drew her horse to a halt.

  He was waiting for her.

  Crecy gasped, joy a living thing beneath her skin as she took in the sight of him, a towering, dark shape against the brightness of the clear, winter sky. He looked like a fallen angel, a devil, even, a vengeful god, with those cold, blue eyes and his long black hair tied back from that hard face. His lips were cruel, and if anyone but Crecy looked upon him, they would shrink from the harshness of his expression. As it was, Crecy could only smile.

  She watched as he dismounted, his great coat swirling about him as he left Typhon to crop the frozen grass, and strode over to her. Crecy could not read his expression as he stood beside her horse, looking up at her on her horse. His face was too guarded, too shuttered up, but he was here. He had come to her. It felt like a gift.

  She reached out her hand, laying it against his cheek, and felt her heart squeeze as
he closed his eyes and turned his face into it.

  “Oh, Gabriel, I’ve missed you so much.”

  Before she knew what had happened, a strong pair of hands had caught her about the waist, hauling her down and into his arms. She stumbled, laughing as she braced herself against him. Crecy looked up into indigo eyes that gave nothing away. She would need to push him a little to discover what she wanted to know.

  “You’re supposed to say that you missed me, too,” she said, her voice quiet as he stared down at her. She pursed her lips, considering his expression in the light of his silence. “Unless you di--” she began, only to have the words devoured as his mouth captured hers.

  Crecy melted into him, a bizarre mix of frost and lava as she coiled around him. She was chilled to the bone from her early morning ride, her toes and fingers and face frozen, but Gabriel was everything that was heat and warmth. His mouth was hot against hers and she burned beneath her skin at the sensation of being in his arms again. He surrounded her, encompassed her, and she had never felt so content, so certain of the rightness of it. Her whole life, she had been wrong somehow, out of step, an odd puzzle piece to which there was no picture to fit into. Until now.

  He let her go and she let out a sigh of deep contentment, her eyes still closed in case it was a dream that she had no desire to wake from. In the end, she forced herself to peek, to look up at him from under her lashes.

  “Does that mean you did miss me?” she asked, her mouth smiling around the words. “Just a very tiny bit, at least.”

  He grunted, a flicker of amusement in his eyes that felt like another small victory. “Perhaps … a very tiny bit.” The words were gruff and a little begrudging, but Crecy didn’t care. She beamed at him.

  “Oh, I wish it were summer and the ground wasn’t all cold and wet,” she said with obvious regret, and her meaning showed clearly with the desire in her eyes.