Samantha James (8 page)

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Authors: Gabriels Bride

BOOK: Samantha James
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They both fell silent, sharing the awkwardness of the moment.

Cassie pulled the cloak more tightly about her and stared down to where the toe of her boot peeped from beneath the cloak. “I’m sorry
you don’t like me,” she said, her voice very small.

Christopher blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

Cassie swallowed. “I—I know you don’t like me because I married your friend,” she said, the words emerging with difficulty. “Because I—I am beneath him.”

When no reply was forthcoming, she raised her head. She stared, both amazed and shocked to discover that he had broken into a wide smile.

“Cassie…I do hope you don’t mind if I call you Cassie…moreover, I hope Gabriel does not take exception to it…but I’m delighted to inform you that you are very much mistaken. I most certainly am not angry with you. If anything, it’s Gabriel I’d very much like to take to task.”

“Why?” It was curiosity more than anything else that prompted the question. Cassie realized uneasily that she knew precious little about this man who was now her husband.

Christopher led her to an overturned crate where he seated her with a teasing flourish. He pulled up another next to her, and sat.

“You know that his brother Stuart is dead, which is why Gabriel is now the earl of Wakefield? That Stuart was to marry Lady Evelyn Latham, daughter of the duke of Warrenton?”

Cassie nodded. “He said his father expected him to marry her in his brother’s place.”

“Yes. It’s easy to see why, of course. Warrenton’s lineage goes back clear to the time of the Conquerer, and coupled with Farleigh’s wealth…such a marriage would have been quite a coup, indeed…” He halted when he saw her confusion.

He smiled. “I’m sorry. I do tend to run on at times.” His smile faded as he returned to his discourse.

“The situation between Gabriel and his father is complicated,” he said at last. “Indeed, there is much even I do not understand—that he refuses to speak of. I assure you, Cassie, I am not such a snob that I am opposed to Gabriel marrying a woman not of his class. It’s just that I’m not sure it was wise to bring you into this…situation.”

Cassie was quiet for a time. “I have only just begun to realize,” she said slowly, “that I am no longer Cassie McClellan. I am now…Mrs. Sinclair.”

“No,” Christopher corrected gently. “You are now the countess of Wakefield…
Lady
Wakefield.”

Cassie sighed. “Countess,” she said glumly. “Earl. Duke. I’m afraid I don’t know one from the other!”

He chuckled. “Well, then, it will be my pleasure to acquaint you with the intricacies of the nobility…”

They were thusly engrossed when Gabriel returned. To Cassie’s delight, she caught on quickly, and Christopher’s warm praise brought a smile to her lips and a becoming rose flush to her cheeks. But her heart plummeted when she glanced up to find Gabriel towering over her. He wasted no time in escorting her back to the cabin. His image remained with her long after he’d retreated, leaving her alone once again. The cast of his profile was stern, almost forbidding. For a while he had seemed almost kind…but he was once again cool and remote.

She did not know that Gabriel was rather provoked that his friend seemed able to allay her fears quite admirably—and with far more enjoyment on her part!

The events of the day were still very much on Cassie’s mind when she crawled into the bunk that night. She averted her eyes when Gabriel blew out the lantern and slid in beside her. Although the day had passed much more quickly than the others, she was not looking forward to another trip up on deck. She couldn’t shake the flutter of dread that quivered in her belly; she tossed and turned just thinking about it.

An impatient exclamation split the air. Gabriel propped himself up on his elbow. “What is the matter with you?” he growled.

Cassie froze. Unfortunately, it was a mistake, for she ended up on her side, facing him fully. They lay so close she could feel the hair on his chest tickle the tips of her breasts when she chanced to take a breath. “This journey,” she ventured finally. “How long will it last?”

“Six weeks,” came the flat reply. “A little more, a little less, depending on the winds and the weather.”

Cassie tried hard not to think about his naked chest. She did not know which was worse. Six weeks of being on the hated seas—or six weeks of sharing a bed with this man. But even while the latter prospect made her distinctly uneasy, she couldn’t withhold a shudder at the thought of the former.

Slight though it was, Gabriel felt her quiver. He did not move, but remained where he was, stretched out beside her.

“Why are you so afraid of the sea, Yank?”

Cassie hesitated. Did he think her silly and weak to harbor such fear? She peered at him through the gloom. His eyes were glittering pinpoints of light, but the edge had left his tone.

When she said nothing, Gabriel decided to try a different tack. “You said the other day this was your first voyage.”

She smiled faintly. “Indeed I’ve never lived anywhere other than Charleston.”

“You lived with your mother? Never your father?”

Her smile withered. Stupid, foolish tears stung her eyes. “I never knew my father,” she said very low. “He might have been any one of a number of men.” Her tone grew unsteady. “My mother, you see, was a…a—”

“I know.” Oddly enough, Gabriel did not want to hear the word
whore
cross her lips. “So what happened? Was there an accident, perhaps?” Gabriel was already more than half certain of her answer. He suspected it went much deeper than mere uncertainty of the unknown.

Cassie’s memory stretched, yawning far back to that long-ago day. “I was very young,” she heard herself say. “But I will never forget that day—no matter how much I would like to.” She eased to her back, staring sightlessly at the ceiling. “It was early, and we stood on the end of the docks, watching the ships set sail. My mother was with a dark-haired, well-dressed man. I recall standing just ahead of her. She was laughing, hanging onto the man’s arm. She thought I was not listening, but I was.”

She shivered. Even after all these years, the memory made her cringe inside. She had buried it deep inside, wanting never to remember, yet it was as if she were there once again…

“What did she say?”

“I heard her whisper to the man, ‘Just think. There is no one here. If she were gone, it would be just the two of us.’”

An awful sensation crowded Gabriel’s chest. Sweet Christ! It could not be, he thought in horror. Surely the woman had not suggested…

“What happened then?”

Cassie bit her lip. “I felt a hand at my back, and then I was falling. There was darkness everywhere, and it was so cold…I remember screaming, and then choking…and I remember thinking that surely I was going to drown. But just when I was certain I would die, the man grabbed my arm and pulled me from the water.”

“Wait,” he said slowly. “I thought he was the one who pushed you.”

It seemed an eternity before she spoke. There was a dull, empty tone to her voice.

“No,” she said very quietly. “It was my mother.”

F
or the life of him, Gabriel wished he had never asked for the reasons behind her panic. For now that he understood her fear…

He wished he did not.

For indeed, this changed nothing. It was regrettable, but he could not allow the girl to soften his heart, for then it would all be for naught.

And Gabriel was determined that nothing would ruin his plan.

For Cassie, the weeks dragged by. It was always late when Gabriel came to bed; she was usually asleep both when he joined her and when he arose at dawn. During the day, she was left to her own devices much of the time. Being alone with him never failed to quicken her pulse. Somehow the cabin always seemed immensely smaller the moment he entered.

He still insisted she take an occasional turn about the deck. Cassie was not brave enough to venture out on her own, so either Gabriel or Christopher escorted her.

So it was that she found herself spending a goodly sum of time with Christopher. He was cheerful and kind, always with a winsome smile
on his ruddy face. Cassie was fascinated by his tales of fashionable society, or the
ton
as she quickly learned it was called. She was wildly curious about London, the theater and gaming and clubs. Though she sometimes felt foolish, Christopher was endlessly patient and did not seem to mind her questions. Perhaps she did not quite realize it, but not only was she being entertained, she was also learning much about the ways of the peerage. And with Christopher she could relax.

With Gabriel that was
never
the case.

It was from Christopher that she learned the two had met when they were schoolboys. Cassie was not surprised to learn that Gabriel had scarcely been an obedient, dutiful student. According to Christopher, his boldness and daring had preceded him into manhood, but had not ended there.

“It was always a mystery to me why such a rakehell remained so popular with the ladies,” Christopher chuckled early one evening as they sat on the deck after dinner. “I suspect many a miss will die of a broken heart when they learn he’s already taken. But you need not despair,” he added with a glimmer in his eye, “for I daresay many a young buck will most assuredly envy him his wife.”

Though she knew he was teasing, Cassie blushed fiercely. She looped her hands around her knees and smiled. “I do not doubt anything you’ve told me about Gabriel. But I wonder, Christopher…are you as reckless and roguish?”

He winked. “Who do you think taught him his wild, wicked ways?”

Cassie laughed, but she knew better. She could not imagine Christopher being anything other than honorable and trustworthy.

Neither was aware of the dark and brooding scrutiny fixed upon them from the quarterdeck. Beneath the calm facade lurked some dark and seething emotion, well controlled but present nonetheless. Gabriel’s gaze settled for long, uninterrupted seconds on the honey-haired head nestled so close to his friend’s. Often he had seen the pair thusly over the past weeks—talking, sometimes laughing. It was not that he begrudged the girl her need for companionship; he trusted his friend implicitly or he would never have allowed it. But Cassie’s face lost all its animation whenever he approached, as it did even now.

It was Christopher who saw him first. He jumped quickly to his feet. Burning silver eyes shifted to Cassie.

“I thought you’d have noticed by now that the winds are coming up.” His tone was as sharp as a blade. “A storm approaches. You’d best get yourself below.”

He started to walk away, then whirled when she made no move to obey.

“I suggest you be quick about it, Yank—unless you fancy going to a watery grave.”

With that he spun around and departed. Cassie stared after him, still smarting from the sting of his rebuke. She was puzzled and confused, angry and hurt, for he had made her feel guilty—and she could think of no reason why she should feel so!

Christopher could have cheerfully throttled his friend just now. He gestured toward the skies.
“Alas,” he murmured. “He’s right. The skies are beginning to darken, and the wind begins to stir. You’ll be safer below.” He motioned toward the stairs with a faint smile. “Shall we?”

Cassie allowed him to take her arm, but not without a scathingly directed glance toward Gabriel’s back. “I hardly think it’s my safety he’s concerned about,” she muttered. “Indeed, I’m sure he scarce gives me a thought at all.”

Christopher shook his head. “He does not mean to be unkind,” he told her gently. “It’s just his way sometimes, lass.”

Her lips pressed together. “I do not understand him,” she said bluntly.

Christopher hesitated. “Gabriel is not an easy man to know,” he said slowly. “He’s been surrounded by others most of his life, and yet he’s spent most of his time alone—and lonely.” There was a small pause before he added softly, “As you have.”

Yet Cassie was not disposed to think of herself and Gabriel as kindred spirits. She turned and gave him a long, slow look. “If you are saying the two of us are alike,” she stated quietly, “I’m afraid you are sadly mistaken.” With that, she stepped inside the cabin.

But was he? Christopher stood before the door a moment, a faintly self-deprecating smile on his lips. He had the feeling he’d been wrong about the pair—perhaps the two of them belonged together after all. He hoped so.

For Cassie’s sake…as well as Gabriel’s.

But Cassie’s mind was scarcely filled with wifely harmony. She paced back and forth across the cabin,
her resentment fueled with every step. Everything within her rebelled against this fine-feathered lord and his lofty manner. He had treated her as if she were a simpleton! Poor she might be, but witless she was not! She possessed both pride and spirit aplenty to protest such treatment at the hands of the man she now called husband. And while it was true she was frightfully unschooled in the ways of the gentry, she was quite well acquainted with crusty men, the likes of which he exceeded by far!

She stopped before the small shaving mirror that hung above the cabinet. Two pink spots of color brightened her cheeks. Her eyes were flashing and vivid. Oh, but he was wrong if he thought she would quail here below like a coward. Bold and audacious she was not, yet neither was she meek and mild, and perhaps it was time he learned it.

She whirled and flung the cabin door wide. Bunching her skirts in her fists, she marched up the stairway.

She had completely forgotten his warning.

She had barely cleared the deck when she realized her mistake. The sails clapped like thunder, while towering masts lurched to and fro. The seas were gray and churning. She stood there, frozen in horrified fascination. From somewhere there was a shout, snatched away by the wind. Her head turned.

It was Gabriel. He was bearing down on her from the quarterdeck, as glowering and fierce as she’d yet to see him. He shouted again and gestured toward the companionway. This time Cassie did not pretend to misunderstand—he wanted her below. Nor was she inclined to linger.

But when she turned to retrace her steps, she found herself buffeted by a furious gust that sent her stumbling backwards. It robbed her of her breath and snatched away her strength. Around the ship, the churning waters of the sea swelled and broke in white-crested frenzy.

Then she saw it.

A tremendous wall of water, higher than the masthead, rushed at them like the sweeping hand of death. A frenzied scream ripped from her throat. It was headed right toward the ship! The thought bounded through her brain that she must run, and then that monstrous wave crashed against the hull. The impact sent her sprawling, her legs swept out from under her.

For an instant it was as if she’d been plunged into a black pit. Darkness was everywhere. Then she felt a tremendous surge of water, so frigidly cold it was beyond comprehension. Dimly she felt herself sliding. She was scarcely aware of the heavy weight that landed atop her, pinning her to the deck. Water crashed over and around her. She could not see. She could not breathe. Pure terror iced her veins as she felt the water sucking at her, trying to drag her deep within its embrace. She opened her mouth to scream. Seawater filled her mouth, nearly choking her.

The ship seemed to lean and moan, then slowly righted itself. With a muttered oath Gabriel jerked to his knees, already reaching for his wife. Her eyes were closed. Her body lay limp and unmoving. Her head lolled over his arm, her lips the color of wax.

Panic leaped high in his chest. “Yank,” he muttered hoarsely. “
Yank!

There was a heaving cough, and a wheezing breath racked her body. Her lids fluttered open.

“Never tell me!” she gasped. “Am I dead then?”

Gabriel could no more withhold the rare smile that grazed his lips than he could the relief that rushed through his veins. His arms tightened their hold ever so slightly. “Why, Yank? Do you think you are in heaven?”

Cassie stared dumbly into the lean, craggy features that swam above her own. Awareness struck. She was most assuredly not in heaven! A pair of hard arms were wrapped snug around her body. She was being held tight against his chest. But then reality came back with a vengeance. She watched those beautifully masculine lips draw back with barely repressed anger.

“What the bloody
hell
did you think you were doing, Yank? I told you to stay below. You were very nearly killed!”

Cassie ducked her head, fighting to hold back the burning sting of tears. Her hair had fallen down, and streamed wetly about her face and shoulders. She prayed he wouldn’t notice as a single tear escaped from beneath her tightly squeezed eyelids and mingled with the wetness on her cheeks. By the time he pulled her to her feet, she had recovered her composure, or what was left of it.

“Come along,” he growled. “We’ll both catch our death standing here in this wind.”

He gestured for her to precede him. Cassie swayed dizzily. Whether from shock or cold, her
legs were so stiff she could scarcely stand. With an impatient curse Gabriel turned and swept her into his arms.

In the cabin, he again set her on her feet. This time, though, his hands remained on her waist until she had steadied herself.

“I’m fine.” Her voice was a trifle shaky. “You may—let go now.”

There was a nearly imperceptible tightening of his features. His hands fell away. “Get out of those wet things,” he ordered. “I’ll not have your death on my conscience, Yank.”

He was right. They were both soaked to the skin. Water dripped from them, pooling on the floor. Cassie turned away, shy and embarrassed about disrobing with him present. Always before she had been careful to guard her privacy, and though no mention had been made of it, he had respected that need.

But the lacings of her bodice were too sodden for her half-numbed fingers to manage. Again and again she tried, to no avail. Then all at once Gabriel was there before her. Strong fingers brushed hers aside. His chest was bare and he wore only his breeches. Droplets of water glistened like tiny diamonds amidst the dark forest on his chest.

Shivering, too miserable to protest, Cassie could only stand docile while he peeled her gown from her body. Cold as she was, detached and efficient as
he
was, her face was burning by the time he’d stripped her of even her underclothes. But it did not end there, for he grabbed a towel, squeezed the moisture from her hair, and ran the cloth briskly over her body.

Finally he gave her a light slap on the rump. “Into bed with you, Yank.”

Cassie needed no further urging. Her teeth chattered uncontrollably. She crawled between the covers and dragged the enveloping quilts up to her chin. As Gabriel stripped off his breeches, she squeezed her eyes shut against the sight.

She heard wet cloth slapped against the floor. The light from the lantern was extinguished, and then Gabriel was sliding in beside her.

The silence was stifling. Cassie curled into a tight little ball and huddled there, trying desperately to erase the memory of what had just happened. She damned herself for her weakness, yet all she could picture in her mind’s eye was that massive wave, like the gates of death yawning wide, waiting to swallow her whole. Sweet heaven, she’d thought she was going to die…she’d thought she was going to
drown
. Unbidden, a tiny little half-sob tore from her throat.

Instantly a firm hand closed around her bare thigh. “What is it, Yank? Are you ill?”

“No,” she whispered.

“Are you cold then? Do you want me to fetch another blanket?”

Cold? She feared she would never again be warm! But had he spoken out of the goodness of his heart, she’d have gratefully accepted his offer. Hesitantly, she shook her head.

“Then I suggest we get some sleep.” He released her, rolled over, and presented her with his back.

The minutes ticked by. She shivered and shivered.

“For pity’s sake, Yank. You’re safe and dry and warm now. Is it possible you could stop that damnable shivering?”

“I’m s-sorry.” Blast! Even her voice was shaking. “I do not mean to be s-so much t-trouble.”

He shifted; the mattress heaved. Through the darkness, she felt the touch of his eyes on her. After a moment, she heard his voice. “I must say, Yank, you chose a poor time to prove you no longer fear the ocean.” His tone was dry.

“It wasn’t that at all,” she said with a shudder. “I was angry at the way you treated me,” she went on, her voice very low. “If you wanted me to go below, you might have asked. Instead you made me feel as if I should be banished to the ends of the earth.” Her chin came up. “I-I did nothing wrong and you had no right to treat me as if I had.”

She was right. Though Gabriel knew it, some demon inside would not let him admit it to her. He’d been furious with both of them, both her and Christopher. A little voice inside taunted that at the root of his fury was jealousy. He dismissed the notion immediately, yet logic eluded him. He could think of no reason why the sight of Cassie and Christopher together should bother him in the slightest, yet he refused to analyze it further.

It was Cassie herself who saved him from making any further excuse. Her speech delivered, she flounced to her side and pointedly turned her back on him. It was not long, though, before her shivering began anew.

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