To Tame a Savage Heart Page 29

  Gabriel blinked, too many emotions flooding him to know what to say, how to react. Relief that maybe … just maybe he could stay. He could try and be a husband and a father. Sorrow for all the pain he had caused and would likely cause in the future, and joy … He would live, he would live with the woman he loved, and who for some inexplicable reason loved him, too. He would see his child born and be there to protect it from anyone who dared disparage the DeMorte name.

  He’d put the fear of God into anyone who tried.

  Gabriel buried his head in Crecy’s hair, breathing in the familiar scent of her and finally letting go of so much of the fear and hurt he had held onto so long. For once in his life, he had hope … and something to look forward to.

  ***

  It was a dazzling late summer’s morning by the time they got up and made their way inside. Gabriel had not wanted to face everyone. In his opinion, it would have saved everyone a deal of embarrassment if he had just slunk upstairs and Crecy had seen them out. But his wife was having none of it.

  “You will go and see them, Gabriel. You will thank them for what they’ve done for you face to face, or you’ll never bring yourself to see them again, and then we’ll be back to square one.” She had crossed her arms on top of her large belly with such a look of determination in her eyes that Gabriel was torn between amusement and chagrin.

  “If you’re going to bully our children like this, I’ll …” he began, seeing outrage flicker in her eyes with amusement.

  “You’ll what?” she demanded, her lovely eyes filled with the kind of worry and suspicion that he knew would take a long time to rid her of. He leant down and pressed his lips to hers; no time like the present, after all.

  “I’ll have to try very hard to keep you sweet-tempered and happy, I suppose,” he said, smiling at her and finding his heart swell as she returned it.

  “I love you so much, Gabriel,” she said, shaking her head. “Please, please, don’t ever frighten me like that again.

  Gabriel shook his head. “I never will. I swear it. I didn’t want to, I … I just thought …”

  “I know what you thought,” she said in disgust. “But you were more wrong than you can know, and I’m going to prove it to you.”

  They entered the parlour where everyone else had discreetly retired to and where Piper was serving tea, as though he had a marquess, a madame, and a lawyer in the house every day. To Gabriel’s amusement, Mrs Wilkins and Bainbridge, who was a confirmed bachelor, were deep in conversation. Everyone fell quiet as Gabriel came in. He felt heat and anxiety creeping up his neck, making his throat feel like it was clogged with a tangle of roots as all eyes turned to him. Crecy slid her hand into his, however, and suddenly it wasn’t so bad.

  “My lord!” Mrs Wilkins was first, launching herself at him and crying all over his shirt, which was horrifying and unsettling and admittedly rather touching, too. It seemed she hadn’t been able to get his parting words out of her head, and had worried herself to death to the point that she’d had to do something. Even though the animosity between him and Edward was well known, she’d rightly assumed that his cousin wouldn’t want yet another suicide tarnishing the Greyston name further.

  Bainbridge was next, so obviously emotional in his relief that they’d been in time, that even a cynic like Gabriel had to concede that it might have been more than disappointment at losing his best client. Piper took a moment to clasp his hand, saying nothing, but with such warmth in his eyes that Gabriel had been at a loss to form a reply.

  And then Edward walked towards him.

  “I think perhaps it’s time I apologised to you, Gabriel,” the words were rather gruff and stilted, but Gabriel could not but hear the sincerity of them. He felt his eyebrows rise, utterly astonished, not only by the words, but by being addressed by his Christian name.

  “What on earth for?” he managed, though his voice was rather hoarse. Surely, it was he who ought to be apologising?

  Edward cleared his throat and looked at the floor before casting an imploring look at his wife, who glowered at him. He cleared his throat again. “I had no idea of … of the circumstance of your father’s death, and I … regret that we have never been better acquainted,” he said, finally looking up and meeting Gabriel’s eyes. “I must confess that I took my father’s opinion of you and your own father as the truth, and never troubled myself to discover if there was any other side to the story.”

  “I don’t blame you for that,” Gabriel said with a shrug, meaning it. “He wasn’t so far from the truth.”

  “Gabriel,” Crecy said, scolding him for his words as Gabriel let out a breath.

  “Come now, love. We can hardly pretend I have done no wrong in my life, but …” He looked up and met Edward’s eyes. “I intend to change that. I promise you need have no fear for yourself or your family. I mean you no ill will. Not any longer.”

  “A truce, then?” Edward said, offering his hand.

  Gabriel nodded and took it, the two men shaking on a more peaceful future.

  “A truce,” Gabriel agreed.

  ***

  As soon as everyone had gone, Gabriel took his wife to bed. He would have liked to make love to her, but she was so clearly worn out and uncomfortable that he kept the idea to himself. Besides, lying with her in his arms after so much sorrow was heaven enough alongside the depths of darkness he had faced over the past hours.

  She stiffened in his arms and he felt her stomach tighten as she held her breath.

  “What is it, love?” he asked, feeling panicked all at once. “Is it the baby?”

  Crecy smiled and shook her head. “She’s just practising. Belle said there would be lots of spasms like this before the actual birth.”

  Gabriel let out a sigh of relief. Now that his own death had been taken from his hands, the danger that his wife faced in childbirth was in the forefront of his mind.

  Crecy looked up at him, quite rightly interpreting the look in his eyes as terror.

  “I’ll be fine, Gabriel. Don’t worry. Everything is going to be quite wonderful.”

  Gabriel swallowed, wanting to believe, her but knowing all too well how many women died during or after a birth.

  “Gabriel.” Her voice was stern, now, and she stared at him, giving him that look which always made him feel his soul was on display. “You must promise me something. If anything ever does happen. You must look after our child. Don’t let them be alone like you were. Let them know how loved they are, how much we both wanted them. Make them know they are everything we ever wanted.”

  Gabriel shook his head, horrified by the idea of a life without her. “I can’t …” he rasped, panic flooding his chest. “I can’t …”

  “Yes, you can,” she snapped. “I have no intention of going anywhere at all for a good long while, Gabriel, but I will feel a deal happier knowing that I can rely on you for this. You are a father, and you will act the part.” She paused, forcing him to look her in the eyes. “Promise me.”

  Gabriel closed his eyes, the words were beyond him, but he nodded. Praying that such a day never came, for he had no idea how he would survive it, he gave her his promise. After that, they just lay together, happy to be alive, to be together, until Crecy decided she was restless and needed some fresh air.

  The heat of the day had faded now, and the countryside had that familiar faded look of late summer. There was a pleasant breeze rustling the leaves and the birds were singing. It felt good to be alive, to be able to appreciate it.

  It was awhile, then, before Gabriel realised they were heading toward the chapel and his parent’s graves. “Where are we going?” he asked, feeling his chest grow tight with anxiety.

  “We are going to speak with your father,” Crecy said, her voice quite calm.

  “What?” Gabriel stared at her and began to back up. “No. No, Crecy, don’t ask me to.”

  “Gabriel, after what you’ve put me through this morning, I will ask and you will give,” she replied, her voice soft
but firm. She stared at him, those unusual lilac eyes daring him to disagree further.

  Gabriel found he could hardly argue the point, but still felt like he wanted to vomit. “Why?” he croaked, wondering if this was punishment for frightening her so.

  “To forgive him.”

  He caught his breath and Crecy smiled at him, moving forward to take his hands. “Not for his sake, my love, for yours. You’ve carried so much anger and hurt inside of you for so long, you need to make peace with it, and you can’t do that until you forgive him.”

  Gabriel stood stock still, concentrating on breathing in and out with difficulty. “I can’t do that.”

  “No,” Crecy replied, her voice soothing. “I don’t suppose you can. Not yet, at least. But we will keep coming until you find you mean it, and then we need never come again.” She moved beside him once more, holding his arm. “Come along, then.”

  By the time he reached the graveside, Gabriel was sweating and tense and he wanted to turn and run and lock himself in his study. But Crecy was looking at him with such expectation that he couldn’t do it. He could not let her down.

  He swallowed, clearing his throat and feeling foolish in the extreme as he addressed the ornate headstone.

  “Hello, Father. I have come to tell you that … that I am married.” He covered Crecy’s hand with his own, comforted by her touch. He looked around, knowing anyone observing them would believe he’d finally run mad. Seeing no one, he turned back to the grave. “I will be a father soon, and I wanted to tell you … I will do everything in my power to ensure that I am nothing like you. You were a bully and a despicable man and I hate you. I have always hated you.” The angry words fell from his lips faster now, easier, and though his fury and hatred was harsh and raw, he felt strangely liberated as he spoke to a long-dead man who had haunted him for nearly two decades. He took a breath, trying to calm himself, to say the words Crecy wanted him to give the man. “I don’t know if I can forgive you for everything you did to me, and to my mother, but … I am going to try. I am going to forgive you, and then I shall forget you, and I pray that no one in this family ever speaks your name again.”

  He exhaled, feeling as though he could breathe all at once. He didn’t doubt that his father’s voice would be hard to shake for good, but he had hope for the first time that perhaps, in the future, he could silence him for good. Gabriel looked around to see Crecy staring at him, full of such pride that he could do nothing but smile.

  “I love you,” he said, feeling the most ridiculous grin curve over his mouth.

  “I love you too,” she whispered, before sucking in a sharp breath and clutching at her stomach. Gabriel put his arms around her, supporting her until the pain passed. She leaned into him, breathing hard as he rubbed circles on her back.

  “That is another practise spasm?” he asked with trepidation, feeling suddenly terrified at the ordeal she must face to bring their child into the world.

  Crecy gave him a sheepish grin as she looked up at him. “Actually, Gabriel … I’m not entirely sure it is.”

  Epilogue

  “Wherein the Greyston family goes from strength to strength.”

  A little over six years later …

  Crecy watched Gabriel cradling the tiny bundle in his arms as he sat on the bed beside her, and felt her heart swell. She had given him a son this time, and he looked about as proud as any man could. Though if anyone knew the way their little daughter, Hope, twisted the man around her tiny thumb, she doubted anyone would believe it.

  He had proved himself to be a wonderful father and a devoted husband, though that wasn’t to say it was always plain sailing. He still had to fight against the desire to obsess over details, but mostly he had it under control enough so that it didn’t completely control him. He was still rather overbearing at times, and had a tendency to put his foot down over things that frightened him, like allowing his daughter a small pony so that she could learn to ride. Gabriel was horrified by the idea that she could fall and be hurt, and so he wouldn’t move an inch. So Crecy still hadn’t won that one, but she’d started early, knowing full well it would be a battle royale. She hoped by the girl’s seventh birthday, she’d have cracked him.

  “What shall we call him?” Gabriel asked, looking up at her, his indigo eyes shining with happiness.

  Crecy pursed her lips, and pretended to think about it. “Frank?” she suggested, sighing happily as she admired her handsome man cooing over their baby.

  Gabriel scowled, looking up from his son and tutting at her. “We are not naming our child after that blasted book,” he protested. Crecy grinned, knowing full well he’d noticed that she’d been reading Frankenstein again. She always cried for the monster, which caused Gabriel to mutter that it explained a lot about their relationship. Crecy laughed as she saw him realise she’d been teasing him. Gabriel gave a huff of laughter, shaking his head.

  “It’s my turn,” she reminded him with a smile. “I let you name Hope, didn’t I?” Gabriel nodded, turning his attention back to his son, who Crecy had to admit was handsome, just like his father. “How about Henry Edward Gabriel Greyston?” she suggested instead, watching as the idea took hold in her husband’s mind.

  “Henry is a good strong name,” he said, nodding, as the little boy clutched at his finger. “He likes it,” he added with a grin. “And Edward would like that, too, I think.”

  “He’ll be a playmate for Eli and Leo,” Crecy said, beaming as she reached to stroke her son’s downy head. “Belle’s boys have been praying it wasn’t another girl by all accounts.”

  Gabriel grunted. “Well, better him than Hope,” he muttered, which made Crecy laugh. Her daughter had inherited every bit of her mother’s daring and curiosity and love of adventure and all the things girls ought not to like. The sweet-looking little girl adored her two male cousins, and constantly led them into mischief. Crecy still cringed as she remembered Belle screaming over the frogs in the fruit bowl. Indeed, little Hope frightened her poor father to death on a daily basis.

  “Here,” he said, giving his son back into her arms with a look of regret. “Belle will be here soon.”

  “That doesn’t mean you have to go, Gabriel,” she said with a sigh, though she knew it would make no difference.

  “I know, but you’ll enjoy your visit more if I do,” he said, leaning over to kiss her before he got up off the bed. “Well done, my clever, beautiful wife, I was never more proud.” He straightened and paused to look at the picture of her holding his son with obvious pleasure. “Besides,” he said. “I have an engagement with a very beautiful young woman.” He left her with a smirk and she laughed with amusement, knowing full well he’d promised to play with Hope.

  A moment later and Belle came in, cooing and delighted with baby Henry. It was strange, really, how Edward had given Gabriel a second chance, but how Belle was finding it the hardest. Belle simply couldn’t forgive him for the heartache he had brought her sister, and though she was always scrupulously polite, there was never more than that. She said she pitied him terribly for his past and wished him well, but no matter how happy Crecy was, Belle could not seem to let go of her anger.

  After allowing her sister a generous cuddle with her son, Crecy decided she had one last trick up her sleeve.

  “You should visit Hope before you leave, Belle,” she said, hiding a sly smile. “You don’t want her to think you love Henry more than her.”

  “Oh, no, of course not,” Belle exclaimed, looking horrified. “And as if I would,” she added, her tone a little smug. “I have a present for her.”

  Crecy nodded, beaming. “Well, you’d best run along and give it to her, then.”

  With a smile, she watched as Belle left the room. If there was one thing guaranteed to melt the hardest of hearts, it would be the intimidating figure of Gabriel Greyston playing with his six-year-old daughter.

  ***

  Hope sat patiently beside him as Gabriel arranged all of the tiny cups and saucers and p
lates, ensuring that each one was placed directly in front of the various dolls and wooden creatures that she had invited to tea. She never interrupted him when he was tidying or rearranging, and though it broke his heart, she would try and keep her toys tidy when she played, somehow aware that it distressed him even though he tried hard to hide it. Crecy, of course, was determined to help both of them overcome any tendency to worry, and encouraged her daughter to play in the dirt and climb trees and do all sorts of things that made Gabriel sick with worry all the same.

  “It looks lovely, Daddy,” Hope said, beaming at him as he tweaked the teapot a little.

  He looked up for a moment, thinking that he’d heard a footstep outside the half open door, but then turned to her as no one came in.

  “Sorry it took so long,” he said, wishing he could overcome such foolishness. He was better than he used to be, but his compulsions were a hard thing to be rid of. He had not heard his father’s voice for over a year, though, and had finally been able to tell the man he forgave him and mean it. He had no desire to remember him, or to visit his grave, but he felt his anger at least had been buried in that grave along with his father’s bones.

  “Good things are worth waiting for, that’s what Mummy says,” Hope replied, repeating faithfully a phrase he had heard Crecy say on a number of occasions. “Besides, Sarah Rotherford’s daddy doesn’t ever play with her. She didn’t believe me when I said you did, and even when I told her that you give the best tea parties, too.”

  Gabriel cleared his throat, wondering if Sarah would repeat that to her mother, who was the biggest gossip in the county. With chagrin, he found he didn’t much care if she did.

  “And what did you say when she didn’t believe you?” Gabriel asked with a little niggle of misgiving.

  “I punched her on the nose,” Hope replied calmly as she lifted a tiny teacup to her doll’s mouth.

  Oh, Lord.