Finding Gabriel (22 page)

Emmaline nodded, tears welling in her eyes. Ariah knew she struggled to keep her upper lip stiff and words steady. “He was my very best friend.” After a moment, a tear slid down her cheek and trickled from her chin.

Ariah’s heartbeat escalated as Gabriel reached out and dabbed away the fallen tear. Then, grinning wide, he awarded her chin with another playful nudge. “In the military, we have a tradition … a way of showing our appreciation for a fellow soldier who has fallen.”

Emmaline’s gaze widened with fascination. “Really?”

“Indeed. A military burial is a great honor.” He gestured to the rug, absently skirting his strong fingers across the coarse material. “It’s custom to drape a flag over the soldier’s coffin, see.”

Emmaline smiled and latched onto the edge of the rug. “This is his flag?”

Gabriel nodded, climbing onto his feet. “A mighty fine one, too.” He respectfully bowed his face and inhaled a deep, steadying breath. Then, in a graceful and practiced motion, he lifted his right hand and saluted Oliver. Emmaline straightened her posture and followed suit. “Would you like to say any words?” he murmured.

Emmaline warily met Ariah’s gaze. Swept with emotion, she crouched beside Emmaline and rubbed her hand over her daughter’s back. “Go on, darling.”

“I will miss you, Olly,” Emmaline said, her throat clogged with tears. “I will miss you and shall never, never forget you.”

Peaceful silence took command. Only the puttering rain and the wind rustling through the gravestones disturbed the quiet. Gabriel nodded, knelt, and lowered Oliver’s body into the eternal dirt. His brows were drawn together, eyes haunted, bandaged hands trembling. A resilient breeze swept the forelock over his disfigurement, curtaining it from view. In the same breath, the material of his greatcoat swelled with a gust of wind and waved behind him like a pair of colossal wings. Then the lull of his voice flooded the cemetery as he recited Oliver’s burial rite.

A chill swept through Ariah and numbed her to the very bone. The feeling was unshakable.

Gabriel was paying his respects to someone else entirely.

The Tuileries Garden thrummed with excitement. Colorful frocks, clattering hooves, and lighthearted laughter filled the space. Exquisitely dressed ladies clasped onto their gentlemen’s forearms as they shielded the dreaded afternoon’s rays with parasols. Phaetons, carriages, and lacquered coaches jostled along the winding dirt roads, kicking up thick dust trails in their wake. A pack of children raced through the commotion while a red-faced governess clutched at her sweeping skirts. Clearly fuming, she squawked her disapproval and fought to keep pace. Ariah laughed as the image of a beached walrus burst into her mind.

The park was a beautiful sanctuary, showcasing the marvels of society at its finest. Romanesque statues decorated the garden as their eternal marble faces observed the passing citizens. A light sheet of frost blanketed the countless statues, trees, and roads, equipping the garden with an ethereal quality. A dense forest of towering hedges and finely trimmed trees spread farther than the eye could see. And overhead, the Louvre Palace’s baroque spire jutted against the skyline.

Ariah felt wildly out of place in her wool shawl and plain muslin dress. Taking in the impressive sights and sounds, she clasped the woven basket against her hip. Nearly a week had passed since Oliver’s death – and this marked the first time Gabriel had set foot outside the home in broad daylight.

She gripped Emmaline’s hand as they waded through the excitement. Every so often, ladies would steal a glance at Gabriel and whisper behind the shield of their fans. He turned to a pair of simpering misses; at first glimpse of his appearance, they returned behind the security of their fans – not in shy giddiness, but in outward shock. Anger and sorrow roared through Ariah’s veins. Although the bandage hid the worst of his disfigurement, traces of yellowish bruising and welted flesh remained visible. With each passing day, it was becoming clearer: Gabriel would forever be branded by his own inner torment.

Even the garden appeared to be weeping for his fate; dripping icicles clung to the monuments, resembling the tears he refused to shed. Indeed, Gabriel kept his head high and proud like a true commander – and Ariah admired him all the more for it.

He carried himself with the pride of an authentic military commander: back straighter than an arrow, steps uniformed and precisely spaced, both arms aligned with his sides. Ariah wondered if he was marching to some inward drum roll – a melody reserved only for himself.

Despite his gallant efforts, he stood out in the swirl of passersby. He was an eclipse surrounded by sunlight … a dark shadow in the midst of Paris’s eternal heart. Ariah ached for him. She could only imagine the agony he felt with everyone staring at him. It came as a great surprise when he’d agreed to escort her and Emmaline for an afternoon at the park – though Ariah knew it had been Emmaline’s wide-eyed “Oh, won’t you please, please come with us, monsieur?” that had swayed his resistance. Hours later, he fought to appear calm and collected – but Ariah could see past his disguise with ease.

As she’d hoped, Emmaline’s anguish seemed to melt away with the surrounding light. Her eyes grew wide and attentive as she drank in the various sights and sounds. Several painters were scattered throughout the garden as their blank canvases came to life in vivid bursts of color. In the distance, the Vendôme Column towered against the sky, the emperor’s likeness scraping at the heavens. Elaborately dressed in Roman garb, Napoleon’s statue embodied France’s greatness and immortality.

Strolling in comfortable silence, Ariah observed Gabriel from the corner of her eye. His gaze was trained on Emmaline, tracking her every move, every laugh, and every smile. Then he chanced a look at Ariah – and something remarkable fluttered in her breast. In spite of his obvious discomfort, his focus was riveted on her and her daughter. And when his eyes met hers once more, an intense intimacy deepened his stare. His gaze bore into her own, drinking her in from top to bottom. Heat spread across her face and caused her temperature to rise.

Minutes later, the sky darkened as they passed through a tunnel of oak trees. Ariah craned her neck and observed the way in which the leaves came together in a tentative kiss. The twisted branches wove a dense, emerald canopy and blotted out the sun. The twitter of birds engulfed her, adding to the Tuileries Garden’s mystical quality.

Gabriel observed her with a haunting attentiveness. She felt the intimate burn of his eyes upon her skin. Distracted by his unwavering attention, she stumbled over a tree root. The wretched thing flung her body forward with the tenacity of a slingshot. Her knees betrayed her and buckled – sending her to the ground in a crumpled heap. Just as she was about to hit the ground face-first, a pair of muscular arms shot out and caught her from behind. Gabriel’s embrace was strong and sure as he steadied her limp body and lifted her to her feet.

A slow, sensual smile formed across her lips, as unstoppable as the very attraction she felt for her mighty commander. Gentle hands on her shoulders rotated her full circle. A breath of air escaped her as she locked onto his powerful gaze. For a weightless moment, the surrounding commotion fell away, leaving only the two of them. The world spun around as he slid a massive hand up the column of her neck and drew her ever closer. He cupped her cheek and caressed her skin with his thumb, drawing invisible circles. Her toes curled inside the barrier of her slippers. She shuddered against the muscular contours of his chest and reminded herself to breathe. Not yet healed from the cuts, his palms felt impossibly rough against her cheek.

“Be more careful, hmm?”

Unable to speak, unable to draw a coherent thought, Ariah nodded once, still holding his eyes with her own. They were a rich, decadent brown … a hue that reminded her of fall’s freshly turned leaves.

He would make a breathtaking painting.
Indeed, the greatest pieces of artwork told stories, offered beauty, and whispered painful truths. And she wanted nothing more than to unveil his story … to uncover the painful truths that burdened his eyes.

The right side of his mouth curved into a subtle smile. As usual, the left side remained immobile – something that only added to his endearment. Then his eyes descended to her lips and held there for several indescribable seconds. His arms gave a gentle squeeze, tightening around the circumference of her waist. Never had she been touched with so much strength and tenderness.

And she never wanted him to let go.

The desire came to her at full force and with blinding intensity. She ached for Gabriel to crush her against his chest, to wrap his strong arms around her waist until they were one, and to claim her mouth in a searing kiss. She yearned to feel the grind of his chin stubble against her throat … to be passionately devoured without the fear of pain and humiliation. She yearned to run her fingers through the thick waves of his hair, to rip away the bandaging and press reassuring kisses against each of his wounds …

Blushing profusely, Ariah dropped her gaze and studied the brass buttons of his military coat. A fallen leaf balanced atop one of his broad shoulders. Without thinking, she lifted her hand and swiped it away. Her fingertips lingered on his bicep, and she felt cords of muscle constrict beneath her touch.

“Maman?” Emmaline’s voice snared her attention. As Ariah felt the color rush from her cheeks, Gabriel cleared his throat, ran an unsteady hand through his hair, and took two generous steps backward. Ariah vainly attempted to gather her composure. Without the warmth of his body, the garden suddenly felt icy and dark. She brushed the dust from her skirts, willed herself to stop trembling, and turned to her daughter.

Emmaline’s eyes were wide with concern – yet Ariah sensed something else in their depths. Something mischievous … something that betrayed her six years of life. And in that instant, Ariah saw the young lady Emmaline would soon be. A young lady who’d spirit away the hearts of many a gentleman and steal kisses along the garden’s magical walkways.

Emmaline’s gaze flickered between her and Gabriel. “Are you all right, Maman?”

Ariah felt wretched – as if she were betraying Jacques. She crouched and awarded Emmaline’s nose with a sturdy pinch. The gesture brought an intoxicating smile to her daughter’s face. Giggling, Emmaline rubbed her nose until it turned a delightful pink.

“Why, yes,” Ariah began cautiously, “Gabriel was here to catch me, see. Wasn’t that mighty gallant of him?”

Emmaline nodded and peered up at Gabriel. Lurking beneath the shelter of the oak trees and doused in shadow, he appeared formidable, menacing, and cold. But Emmaline seemed to peer through his rugged façade; she closed the few meters between them and seized his hand. Clearly taken aback by the gesture, he studied Emmaline for several breathless moments.

Ariah’s emotions threatened to overwhelm her. Heart racing, she staggered onto her feet and clasped Emmaline’s free hand. “Well, then. I suppose we should continue on our way?”

•

After forty minutes of drinking in the scenery, Gabriel and Ariah lingered beneath the shelter of a towering oak tree. Sparrows chattered overhead and dove in and out of the nude branches. The birds were clearly a male and a female, Gabriel took note – and the former of the two was in the midst of an elaborate courtship dance. His head hung low, the male sparrow spread his tawny wings, and hopped erratically from branch to branch. Gabriel set his hand on Emmaline’s shoulder and gestured to the frolicking birds. “That’s a courtship dance, you see. The male is trying to win her affections with his fancy steps.” Emmaline cocked her head and giggled at the spectacle. The female sparrow quickly grew tired of her suitor, unfurled her dark wings, and sailed into the distance.

Emmaline skipped several meters away and approached a tight-knit clan of pigeons. The birds halted their pecking and scurried away from the little girl. She wandered closer once they continued their mindless expedition.

“Emmaline, not a step farther!” Ariah called out. Together, she and Gabriel stood in silence for several moments and surveyed the park.

It was a truly beautiful day; winter was just making way for spring, and the entire park was brimming with subtle sounds of life. Iridescent shafts of light flickered across the lightly frosted trees as the wind sighed in appreciation. Gabriel felt terribly out of place in the midst of the luscious garden – and yet, with Ariah and her daughter at his side, his heart filled with genuine contentment.

He held Ariah’s stare. A gentle breeze rustled her curls and swept them across those pristine eyes. The memory of holding her in his arms returned at full force. Her body fused against his own had been sheer, exquisite torture. And most of her fears seemed to have vanished. He’d sensed a kindred passion in her touch – one he was more than happy to oblige.

And he’d come dangerously close to kissing her.

In that moment, Gabriel had been flooded with a desire almost too painful too bear. The entire park had transformed into nothing more than a surreal blur. He’d studied the cluster of freckles that adorned her nose, aching to acquaint himself with each one. He’d burned to sift his fingers through that golden mane, to feel her curls damp with passion, to feel them splayed across the naked planes of his body as he claimed her in the most primitive ways.

Everything aside from the feel of her in his arms, the tremulous beat of her heart pressed against his own, had gone forgotten. The painful memories of his past, the countless bloodstained battlefields, his marred features … they’d all fallen away.

Then her daughter had spoken, and an image of Jacques had surfaced inside his mind. Oliver’s burial had been Gabriel’s way of paying his respects to his late comrade, a way of gathering closure. He would need to tell her the truth soon. It would cause her great pain – yet would also set her free.

“Oh, dear me.” Ariah’s voice jolted Gabriel from his wayward thoughts. She surveyed the grassy knoll with an adorable pout. The ground was damp with a sheen of frost. “How could I have forgotten a blanket?”

Gabriel stripped away his coat and laid it across the ground, transforming the material into a makeshift blanket. Her gaze sparkled, and an elusive smile curved her lips. “Won’t you catch a chill?”

That very thought was laughable. Catching a chill was the last thing Gabriel feared. On the contrary – every centimeter of his flesh was on fire and burning.

“It’s a great sacrifice, but I believe I shall manage,” was his response.

She nodded, tucked her skirts beneath her legs, then lowered onto his coat. Still standing, Gabriel admired her as a gentle breeze tossed curls about her slender shoulders. The image of her tending to his wounds surfaced in his mind. It was a vision he wouldn’t soon forget. He could still feel the tentative caress of her fingertips, the tender grasp of her hand … the damp cloth draped across his brow.

She smiled at him and patted the empty space on the greatcoat. Gabriel’s blood stirred as sensually long fingers caressed the rugged material. Indeed, it felt as if she were touching a part of him. And in many ways she was; that coat had followed him through countless years and battlefields … through a hundred victories and losses. It had come to be an integral part of himself – just like the skin on his back. “Come and join me, Gabriel!”

Gabriel ran his fingers through his tousled hair and claimed a seat beside her. They sat intimately close. The heat of her body emanated, filling his spirit with warmth and temptation. Another breeze tickled her curls, sweeping the scent of roses into his nostrils. She pulled both knees against her chest and wrapped them in her arms. Gabriel studied her with a keen awareness; she looked remarkably like a little girl. She abruptly turned to him with a sharp intake of breath. Then she reached for the woven basket, propped it open, and rifled through its disorderly contents. Half a loaf of bread, finely sliced cheese, and a couple of fresh fruits were tucked inside. On top of everything laid one of Emmaline’s rag dolls.

“You brought Daisy!”

“I certainly did,
ma petite
,” Ariah said, fishing the doll from the basket. She passed it to Emmaline, and the little girl squeezed the plush body against her breast.