Brandywine: Regency historical romance (The Brocade Series, Book 1) (35 page)

He stopped his thoughts. He refused to consider it. He couldn’t. The consequences were too vast. He didn’t know if he’d be able to face her if she was telling the truth, and he’d brought her right back into a hell he couldn’t comprehend.

No.  

He wasn’t allowing the thought! She had a lying tongue. She was a spectacular actress. She wove fictional stories. That was the only thing he dared believe.

Helene sagged against his chest, and he realized she slept. That made it safe for Gil to lean against
her head a bit, filling his nostrils with her particular scent and salving the
ache that grew daily in his heart. She had a wondrous smell. She
probably knew it. Why else would she have taken such pains to
make certain it was masked at the sanatorium?

He looked blankly at the dim path, breathed deeply, and actually longed to
thank Prime Minister Pitt for making this little excursion happen
. Gil knew his mother was probably in the smelling salts
, leaving Bridget with her hands full taking care of her, but that was the least of his troubles. To
think he’d once longed to actually be here. Right where he was. On the enemy’s shore. Evading capture....

And look. Here he was. Without even a weapon. Surviving by his wits. He’d have given
his right arm for the experience only a few months earlier. And now?
Now all he wanted was a warm meal, soft bed, and the little
vixen he held in his arms. He didn’t care if she spit hate at him or tried to mangle her other hand against his face as long as she was
there.

That settled it. If she wanted an annulment, she’d have to find grounds
first, and he was doing his best to eliminate any there might be...as long as she wasn’t telling the truth about herself.

Oh God. He prayed she wasn’t.

Every time she brought up the subject of her childhood, he
stopped her anymore. He couldn’t possibly listen at the ruined chateau or
on Concorde Street. She didn’t realize how the little things ate at
him. She’d bribed the maid with diamonds from the necklace he
just bought her! She’d been so driven to find Sherry’s old room
that she used his gift. It was unconscionable. Impossible. It was a story she’d invented to while away her boredom.

It had to be. Anything else was… 

Damn it!
He refused to think it.

***

“Are we there yet?”

Helene lifted from the comfort of Gil’s shoulder
and looked around, rubbing sleep from her eyes as dawn starting tinting the sky.

‘That depends on what you mean by there, love.”

Gil grinned and her glance skittered away. That was worrisome. Or wondrous. And that was the trouble. He didn’t know what she felt, or why she refused to meet his gaze.

“Oh look!” she pointed. “Buildings! Is it…a town? Does that mean we’ll eat a real
meal and sleep in an actual bed?”

“Not unless you can explain my lack of regiment, and your evening attire…which, I might point out, while being very attractive…is not the
sort of thing women wear while riding cross country. And lastly…we can’t afford the
time. Sorry love, but we’ve been lucky thus far. I’m certain even
Fontenelle has noticed our absence by now, although how
a mere Englishman of few brains managed to elude him is probably giving him more than a moment’s disquiet.
”

She giggled and snuggled close to him. He caught the
impulse to tighten his arms.

“You’re sorry? Oh, Gillian, such fustian. I’m the one who’s
been sleeping. You must be exhausted.”

She pulled away to turn and look toward him. And this time it was his eyes
that shifted away
. He cleared his throat.

“I’ll admit to hunger. Will that suffice?”

“You’ll purchase a meal? Oh, Gill, that would be wondrous! And…I hate to mention
it, but I’ll need a moment or two to myself.”

“If our luck holds, Helene, we
’ll make Le Havre by nightfall.
Not that I’m a judge, but it’s not that much farther than Calais,
and we made good time. Who knows? With luck we might make Tremayne Hall before our grandchildren are born, after all.”

Her blush at that should’ve made him grin, but it didn’t. It
made his chest tight and his arms shake.

“Gil?” she whispered.

He forced himself to look at her.

“I know you only tease, but I...I wish you wouldn’t.”

“Why?” he managed to ask.

She tossed her head and looked away, adjusting her
nondescript cloak over her golden dress. He wondered if she’d
answer him after taking so long. And then she did, with such a soft voice, he had to lean a bit.

“Is Tremayne Hall beautiful this time of year?” she asked.

As much as he needed sustenance, swallowing anything at the moment was going to be difficult if not impossible.

“Like no other place on
earth,” he told her.

She wouldn’t meet his eyes, and he thanked God for that
small mercy.

***

“Is this cabin sufficient,
Monsieur?” 

The portly captain
laughed heartily as he shoved open the door on a cubicle of space she’d barely fit in. Helene tried not to show her disappointment.

“This will be convenient, Captain, no more. We can expect privacy
?”

“But, of course. Are you not
paying
customers?”

Helene nearly snorted her disbelieve at the man’s words, but the price would probably go up if she did, and they were already paying an amount that frightened her.
Then again, the captain of the
Mighty Gull
had every reason
to charge whatever he wished, especially for running the risk of
capture. She stooped and entered the compartment. Gil followed, at a crouch.

“I’ll have to lock you in,
Monsieur
and
Madame,
and I trust you’ll keep quiet?”
’

The way he said
madame
told her how little he believed it.
With Gil’s ripped uniform and the wrinkled gold of her gown peeking out occasionally, they didn’t look like a married couple. N
or did they act like one.

Gil hadn’t looked at her since breakfast the previous day. No. She was wrong. It
had been before that, when she’d asked him not to tease her
anymore.

That had been so stupid! Hadn’t she learned yet? Any of his attention was better than none.

“Well. Well. Not even a porthole.”

Gil’s tired whisper dented the
blackness that descended as the door was locked. Helene didn’t answer for fear he’d hear her disappointment, too, and think it was meant against him.

They’d received only a fraction of the necklace’s value, but
Gil was right. He looked like a deserter who could be shot on sight, and she looked like a high class courtesan. It was lucky they received what they had.

“Oh, for a nice, hot bath.”

She sighed and reached out blindly, connected with what had to be his thigh, and jerked her
hand back quickly.

“I was thinking more along the line of a bit of light. What
the hell’s he keeping in here, anyway?”

She heard scuffling sounds, and then Gil suddenly laughed.

“I should’ve known. It’s brandy! Care for a nip,
My Lady? If that’s all I keep running into, I believe I’ll give up drinking.”

He sounded disgusted, dispirited. Depressed. She didn’t dare ask why.

“I...I rather like you when you’re drinking, Gil,” she finally answered
.

“Oh, sweet. My little…Brandywine. That’s what I’m going to call you from now on, love. Brandywine. It
has panache, and I’m a stickler for that sort of thing, you know.”

It was too dark, but she was easy to find, and
she longed to cry at how his arms trembled as they wrapped about her.

“You’re an idiot, Gillian.”

“Yes, but please try to remember that I’m a disgusting idiot.”

“You’re ridiculous. Are you sure you haven’t purloined some
of the stock already?”

“Quite sure. Do you want me to?”

Helene took a deep breath and decided to be brave and ask
for what she really wanted. “No. I’d rather have you...hold me.”

She could live long enough to regret being brave and was
trying to find a way to make her next request sound lighthearted, but
he forestalled her.

“In my condition? Christ! I’ve a three-day growth of
beard, I’m badly in need of a bath, we’ve had one chip of hickory
to chew, making my breath the least of my problems, and—”

“For once in your life, Gillian Tremayne, just do as you’re told and
don’t argue!”

Silence greeted her. And then he chuckled.

“Well. What can I say? My lady commands.”

The floor was rough and grit-covered. The wooden crates, filled with bottles of brandy, were rough-hewn and filled with slivers. There wasn’t any space to stretch out,
but Gil settled her onto his lap, his bent knees supporting her back and his head against her shoulder. She didn’t say it, but she’d never had a more comfortable berth.

***

The inn at Dover hadn’t changed, but Helene almost
cried out with joy at the sight. Because of their recent stay, the
landlord knew of their ability to pay. They were ushered into a suite almost the moment they walked in. And Helene was never so
thankful to see shabby red drapes in her life.

The walk from the dock to the inn had been excruciating in
her sodden dress, while Gil squeaked with every step in his wet boots. She’d have laughed at the picture they presented, but was afraid it would turn to sobs. But at least any tears would contain joy. They’d done it! S
he actually toyed with dropping to her hands and
knees and kissing the soil. That’s how good it felt.

“I guess we should be thankful the captain brought us as close as he did
.”

Gillian dropped his wet pants onto his even wetter boots, and Helene had to look away. He could fuss all he wanted about his
deplorable state, but he still looked masculine. Fit. And absolutely heavenly.

“You’re only saying that, because you dropped me.”

Her gold dress was plastered to her body everywhere. She’d probably need help to get it off, but she wasn’t prepared to ask.

“You slipped,
Madame,
and I already gave you the clothing
off my back.”

“That’s only because my cloak was too heavy to swim in.
Besides, you couldn’t walk the streets dressed as a French
deserter, now could you?”

“A valid point, love. I’d really hate to disagree with you, but
that coat didn’t foil your chances with the local gentry, I noticed.”

“You’re only angry, because that nice man offered me a ride to town
without offering you one, too.”

“I’m not the type he favors, obviously.”

“Disgusting.”

She tried to glare at him, but, since he’d also
flung his shirt onto the pile of clothing, she couldn’t look long.

“Could you save the insults for later? I’m due a
hot bath, a shave, a decent meal of boiled sop, and a bed. I can’t be
responsible for what I say in this condition.”

“You ordered a hot bath? Oh…thank you, Gillian!”

“You don’t pay the least attention to me, do you, Helene? I ordered
a hot bath, a meal, and sent messages to Tremayne Hall. 
By morn, we’ll have access to our wardrobes and funds and can
set this entire sordid experience so far back in our collective memories that it’ll never resurface.”

“Was it truly that bad, Gillian?”

“If I tell you the truth,
Madame,
you’ll run screaming from
the room. Imagine what the scandal mongers would say.”

“Oh, I shudder to think it!” she exclaimed.

He bent his head to peer out at her from beneath his
eyebrows, and she smiled at his attempt to intimidate her.

“Don’t you ever run out of flippant remarks?” he asked
finally.

“Do you?”

He sighed and folded his arms to regard her. He didn’t have enough
clothing on for her to continue the argument. She had to avert her eyes
and found it fascinating to study where the bottom of one leg of his drawers had been ripped to make her bandage. That was almost too much. She narrowed her eyes, studiously keeping them from
where the lacings tied at his waist. Or the little line of hair that led there. Or the span of naked chest above that.