Finding Gabriel (23 page)

“May Daisy and I feed the pigeons? Please, Maman?” Emmaline asked, her hand outstretched expectantly.

Ariah sighed, removed the bread, and broke off its burnt heel. With an arched brow, she handed it to Emmaline. “You and Daisy best be thrifty. This is all you two shall get.”

“Oh, we will, Maman, I promise we will.” Then she glanced at Gabriel and awarded him an adorable grin. Twirling a curl between her fingers, she continued, “Won’t you feed the birds with me and Daisy?”

Gabriel’s heart trembled against his ribs as an image of Lisette flashed through his mind. Tucking the memory away for safekeeping, he nodded and climbed onto his feet.

Bursting with sudden energy, Emmaline seized hold of his hand and dragged him toward the pigeons. He watched in awe while her much smaller fingers lost themselves within his own. She gave a firm squeeze and gazed up at him, her eyes wide and beaming, a healthy flush spreading across her cheekbones.

•

Relaxing in the lazy afternoon sunlight, Ariah nibbled on a slice of cheese as she witnessed one of Napoleon’s war heroes attempt to seduce a mob of pigeons.

The birds were far from impressed. Fleeing the apparent tyrant, they waddled and fluttered their gray wings in outright panic. Serious as can be, Emmaline stepped forward, spun toward Gabriel, and presented him with a detailed demonstration.

“See, monsieur, like this,” she explained, inching up on the unassuming birds. Her face contorted into a mask of intense concentration. She took care not to make any noises or cast her shadow in view of the birds’ vision. Then she scattered some crumbs into the grass and watched while the pigeons battled for the hidden morsels. They cooed in appreciation, bobbed their dark heads, and edged closer to Emmaline with mounting trust. “Oh, look, monsieur! They like me now!”

“Indeed, they do. That is very good,
chérie
,” Gabriel acknowledged with a nod. “I shall try my best to earn their affections.” He mimicked each of Emmaline’s movements with complete sincerity. The handsome, angular lines of the right side of his face narrowed in concentration. He knelt to the crutch of his knees and tiptoed toward the birds. A breeze tossed the raven locks from his forehead, exposing a pair of sharpened, decisive eyes. He made a rather fetching vision, Ariah thought. And for a breathless instant, she could see the colonel he’d once been – coarse with steely determination, ever loyal to his comrades, and willing to go to any length to accomplish his duties.

Gabriel’s massive shadow eclipsed the grassy knoll, alerting the pigeons of his lurking presence. Uniformly bobbing their heads, they waddled in the opposite direction, leaving him and Emmaline gawking after them. Alas, Colonel Gabriel de Laurent had suffered yet another defeat.

Ariah’s heart somersaulted. As compassionate as Jacques had been toward Emmaline, she couldn’t imagine him kneeling among a band of pigeons, indulging a little’s girl whims …

“Oh, pooh!” Emmaline cried out.

Genuine disappointment crossed Gabriel’s features as he glanced at Emmaline. She shrugged her tiny shoulders and cradled the dolly against her chest. Rocking it back and forth, she said, “It’s all right, monsieur. I suppose they aren’t hungry no more.” Ariah smiled to herself and devoured another helping of cheese.

He offered Emmaline a smile, ruffled her swarm of curls, and climbed onto his feet.

“Where you goin’?”

“Why, to honor myself with your mother’s company.”

Ariah felt her heartbeat quicken as Gabriel stood on the edge of the greatcoat. She craned her neck and shielded her gaze. His head blotted out the sun, casting him in dense shadow. What an imposing figure he made … like an angel of darkness, whisking away the light. Ariah harnessed her nerves and scooted toward the edge of the greatcoat.

“Back so soon?” she teased.

Gabriel lowered himself beside her. “I fear a
Légion d’Honneur
medal isn’t worth its weight to a band of pigeons.”

Ariah surrendered to a laugh and placed the basket in between their two bodies. “Come now! What’s an afternoon in the park without a picnic to accompany it?” With a wave of her hand, she urged him to eat. He obliged with a curt nod and plucked a slice of cheese. “So, monsieur,” she said, simultaneously nibbling on a delicate piece of fruit, “I have been wondering for nearly a fortnight … quite needless to say, you have a gift with children. Tell me, where does it come from?”

Ariah immediately regretted asking. She knew well that he’d lost his family in some terrible tragedy. He’d said as much with his consistent silence – yet she ached to get closer to him. She knew he was suffering from unspeakable wounds and wanted to help soothe the pain. But the situation was immensely delicate, and she didn’t want to shatter their fragile bond.

Within the quiet din, Gabriel’s beautiful eyes grew heavy with emotion and painful memories. He stared off, unblinking and unmoving, and watched Emmaline frolic in the grass. Ariah stirred closer to him without conscious thought. She took one of his callused hands in both of her own and gave a reassuring squeeze. He tensed at the contact, exhaled a stiff breath, and then slowly turned to her. Wind propelled the forelock from his penetrating gaze; those thick raven locks danced in the wintry breeze, waving with the audacity of a highflying flag. Then her heart skipped a beat as tears shimmered in his eyes. Alas, his pain was tangible. She could see the memories etched into every line of his face, could feel the tension roaring through his fingers. She lifted his hand to her cheek and rubbed his skin against her own.

Mon Dieu.
He was trembling.

What had she done? Disgusted with her insensitivity, Ariah shook her head and tightened her grasp. She smoothed her thumb over his knuckles, cherishing the simple feel of his rugged skin moving over her own. Despite the healing cuts, his hands were elegantly carved and masterful. They were the hands of a carpenter – hands that any musician would envy … a flesh and blood testament to his masculine beauty. Heart racing like a bunny rabbit’s, she imagined how they might feel against her body. Would he be rough? Or would he caress her with gentle precision – as a violinist handles his instrument? Would he force himself upon her? If his interaction with Emmaline was any testament, Ariah had faith he’d be kind, patient, and gentle.

Staring into his eyes, she massaged his scarred palms and tentatively whispered, “Forgive me. I didn’t mean to open old wounds or cause you any more pain. I shouldn’t have asked.”

More silence consumed the air. Only the melody of Emmaline’s laughter breached the quiet. Just when she was certain Gabriel would never be ready to share himself, the words came forth …

•

“I had a little girl.” Gabriel’s voice cut off mid-sentence. Emotion constricted his throat, making it difficult to speak, difficult to think, difficult to draw breath. How he ached to no longer hide within himself … to no longer be alone and ruled by the shadows of his past. He’d known this moment would come. But was he ready for it? The gentle caress of Ariah’s hands empowered him. It was a simple gesture, though infinitely powerful. The comfort and acceptance she offered sent his heart racing.

Gabriel drew on her strength.

I am ready.

“I had a little girl,” he finally resumed. His voice sounded muffled and distant, as if he was hearing it through the filter of a dream world. He tensed, tightened his hold on Ariah’s hand, and squeezed both eyes shut. The memories blazed behind his eyelids and seared his heart. He swallowed and focused on Ariah’s reassuring touches, the transitory caress of the sunbeams. Kid gloves wrapped her slender hands, yet the heat of her skin radiated just the same. Promising warmth seeped through the weather-beaten material and inflamed his soul. Long fingers caressed his skin, drawing invisible shapes along his knuckles. He no longer wore the bandages, and protruding gashes and indentations marred his nude hands. With a deep inhale, he opened his eyes, summoned his inner courage, and forced the words. “Her name was Lisette. She was five years old when she was stolen from me. It happened eleven years ago.
Dieu
… she was precious to me. So very precious.”

“I can feel the love you shared with her through Emmaline.” Ariah looped their fingers together and securely united their hands. Caressing his knuckles, she continued through a careful whisper, “What happened to her?”

Gabriel felt himself grow stronger from her touch, felt the icy barrier he’d forged around his heart thaw and melt away. He’d never spoken the truth to another. Surely she’d turn away in disgust and horror.

He would lose her forever. And Gabriel had a notion that he couldn’t bear losing Ariah. But the temptation to unburden himself outweighed his fears – and Gabriel found himself spilling his darkest secrets.

He revealed everything: the mutual indiscretions between him and his wife, a woman he’d been promised to since boyhood … the realization that he wanted to change, to become a new man and a worthy father … then discovering that his desire had come too late. As he recalled his daughter and wife’s murders, the Tuileries Garden seemed to fade away, leaving only him and Ariah in its wake. With each word, Ariah wept silent tears, clasped his scarred hands, and encouraged him with sensitive touches. He even recounted the details of Frederick and Etienne’s brutal deaths. Initial shock filled her eyes; then she glanced at Emmaline, who was playing with her doll several meters away, and said, “I believe any mother or father would have done similar. Sometimes, we don’t think with our minds, but rather with our hearts.”

“I would never harm you or your family,” he murmured, suddenly needing the words spoken. “
Never
.”

In fact, I would gladly give my life for you and Emmaline,
he inwardly confessed.

Ariah hesitated, then gave a sharp nod. “I sense that.”

A weight lifted from his shoulders. And for the first time in so many years, he was able to breathe.

“Please, Gabriel – go on.”

Gabriel brushed a fallen curl from her cheek. His fingertips lingered against her skin for several moments. The need to consume her was almost too great; it took every gram of restraint not to sweep Ariah into his arms, roll her onto her back, and ravish her with all his unrequited passion. “I attended the Royal Military Academy for several years. Despite my father’s encouragement, I didn’t feel it was the right path for me. He was a great man and a remarkably successful lieutenant. One of the very best, there’s no doubt in my mind – though not without his share of flaws.”

“Well, of course. None of us ever are.”

Gabriel nodded. A smile creased his lips at the memories of his childhood.

“When I received a letter informing me of my family’s passing, it nearly broke me. My mother, father, and baby brother had all fallen to the plague.” He trembled, and a hefty sigh inflated his lungs. “I returned home and fulfilled my duty. I knew my father approved of the marital match – and, even more, I knew that I was in need of an heir, a way to carry on my family’s memory. See, my only other relatives – my uncles, aunts, and a couple of misbehaving cousins – lived quite far from Paris.”

“I understand.” Ariah nodded, absorbing every word. “And where are they now?”

“Still in Le Havre, I suppose. I haven’t seen them for over a decade. Their letters stopped nine years ago.”

“What? You … you never sent word?” Her eyes flickered with confusion. Shaking her head, she reached out and gently placed a hand on his upper arm. The delicate shaft of her neck undulated as she swallowed deeply. “Family is so important in times of tragedy and heartache. I don’t understand. Why do that to yourself? Why condemn yourself to such sadness … such isolation?”

Gabriel shrugged. He ran his fingers over the basket’s woven skeleton and contemplated his inner self. “Did I not deserve such a fate? If I had been there that night – if I hadn’t made a habit of leaving them alone – things would have been different. I’ve replayed the scenarios in my mind countless times … what I could have done differently years ago, up until that moment, when I saw my little girl take her last breath.” He glanced downward and examined his greatcoat. The
Légion d’Honneur
badge tinkled as he grazed a fingertip over its smooth, enameled surface. “I very well left for the war to die. To die and to run away from myself. But things don’t always unravel as we expect they might. No matter where I went, the ghosts were always one step behind me. I couldn’t run away … I could never escape from the memories. I threw myself into the heat of every battle – devoted myself mind, body, and soul … and within years, I ascended Napoleon’s ranks. And for a fleeting moment, I felt like my identity had been remade … like I was deserving of my inheritance. I’d been given a new purpose, the chance to do good … to honor my father’s memory. It’s the same reason I wore this coat on the night you found me. I suppose I was clinging to that part of myself that I’d gone searching for.”

“But you still have the chance to be remade,” Ariah insisted. “Only you can take it away.” Her skin felt smoother than silk against his own; she tightened her grasp, speaking with both her words and touch. A fierce longing overpowered Gabriel. He yearned to wrap his arms around her waist, to tug her against the heat of his body, to lose his fingers in the glory of her hair … to press kisses along the elegant column of her throat until she chanted his name, begging for more, more,
more
…

Instead, he leaned forward, reached out, and caressed Ariah’s silver cross with his index finger. The metal felt cool beneath his touch … void of all hope. Then he lifted his gaze and studied her exquisite, heart-shaped face. Her features were bathed in transient shafts of sunlight, and a subtle smile tugged at those rosebud lips. Loose curls cushioned her porcelain features, awarding her with an ethereal quality. Curiosity inflamed the depths of her eyes while she observed Gabriel’s movements.

“From darkness often comes light. I firmly believe that,” she whispered. She sought Emmaline with her gaze. Gabriel examined the emotions that fluttered across her features: adoration, love, heartache, and strains of loss and sorrow. Then her soulful blue eyes darkened and bore deeply into his own. “As I said before, it’s a lesson the years have taught me.”