Finding Gabriel (25 page)

Was she dreaming? If so, then she yearned to sleep forever.

A muscled arm snaked around her torso and tugged her intimately close. Everything seemed to fade away. The heat of their bodies mingled as one. Her heart banged against her rib cage as she sought the depths of his eyes. At this range, flecks of gold contrasted against his auburn irises. Some of the darkness seemed to have vanished, leaving that transient hope in its wake. The right side of his face was devastatingly handsome, his hair so black it absorbed the nearby firelight.

Her face reached the height of his shoulder and not a centimeter more. She curled her head against the security of his chest and inhaled his essence with a reverent breath. A tangle of emotions welled in her gut, blurring everything but the moment. Everything but the exquisite feeling of being held.

Gabriel shifted back and forth in a tantalizing rocking motion, slowly dancing to a melody that only he could hear. As she melted into his embrace, the hearth crackled, accompanying each of their steps. Then he bowed his face and hummed a beautiful tune against her forehead. It sounded achingly sweet, like a tender lullaby from the depths of a dream world. The force of his vocals resonated deep inside, massaging Ariah’s body with delicious caresses. Her heart resembled a drum – and her entire body trembled in time with its beat. That immaculate baritone stoked her imagination, igniting an inferno within her soul.

Closing her eyes, she rubbed her cheek against the greatcoat’s rugged material, abandoning herself to the rhythmic sway and husky baritone. His voice surrounded her like liquid velvet. His palm swept up the length of her back, down and up, tickling her spine with each movement. Heated breaths wafted against her hairline and stirred curls about her shoulders. Every movement was infinitely gentle and executed with grace. Ariah had to remind herself to breathe, lest she faint from the sheer pleasure of it all.

What sort of person was she? She was betraying Jacques – and after all he’d sacrificed for her family. She gradually regained her wits and began to pull away.

“Ariah …” he whispered each syllable like a sacred prayer. All resistance vanished as her resolve deteriorated, crumbling into ashes. “Sometimes I can hardly believe you are real. That you are truly here and not a phantom carved from my mind.” Unsteady hands rose from her sides in a tremulous movement. Cupping her cheeks, he lifted her chin and aligned her gaze with his intense stare. She shuddered against him while a euphoric cloud gathered overhead.

“I am real,” she whispered into the depths of his eyes. Hardly thinking, she reached out and laid a hand over his chest. The rhythm of his heart quickened beneath her touch. “And I am here.”

A choked sound caught in his throat. Her skin tingled, ignited wherever his eyes landed – the bridge of her nose, cheeks, forehead, lips. He drew invisible circles along her flesh, worshiping her with deft touches, tracing down the smooth bend of each cheek and back up again.

A rare sliver of peace filled Ariah’s entire being. She felt safe, secure, and at last, complete. Her fears, those haunting memories from that long ago night, ebbed from her consciousness.

Will he kiss me? Mon Dieu,
she prayed he would.

Everything shifted. Ariah felt Gabriel’s resolve slip away to be replaced by an all-consuming longing … a molten desire that would not be denied. His breathing grew strained and irregular, as if caught in the midst of a heated session of lovemaking. Sweat beaded across his forehead, and those enticing eyes flashed like an inferno. He battled his passion, fought to drive it away. She could see it etched in every line of his face … could sense it in every sinew, every muscle, every fiber of his body. But over a decade of loneliness and emotional exile won out, and he stood entirely defeated.

Gabriel rotated her body and half pinned her against the mantel. She felt him grow taut with pent-up desire. His lips descended on her throat in a movement he seemed unable to control. His tongue teased her pulse, swept up and down the column of her throat, and traced the fine architecture of her collarbone.

The uneven texture of his lips ground against her flesh in a tantalizing caress. His tongue explored the crook of her neck and slid across her sensitive skin. She attempted to step away – but his grasp possessively tightened … strong, marred hands slid up and down her back.

She tensed as his palm slipped toward her nightdress’s modest neckline. Then his fingers clenched against her, itching to touch her breasts – though he dared not give in.

As she’d feared, her mind and body betrayed her heart. Her survival instinct kicked in at full force – and the need to fight or flee took hold. Her stomach became a quivering mass. The force of his clutch wedged her hand against his chest at an awkward angle. She wiggled her arm and struggled to free herself. Conflicting emotions quarreled inside her mind and body. He was immensely powerful – he’d killed two men with his bare hands. Fear and desire blended together in a dizzying tango. And she hated herself –
she loathed herself
– for becoming a victim once again.

Unable to speak, she closed her eyes and muttered a weak protest. All words died on her tongue. She felt the grind of coarse trousers against her thighs, saw flashes of that night behind her eyelids …

Ariah vainly fought to shove the memories away – to live in the moment, to lose herself in Gabriel’s caresses. But alas, she could not. The weight of those memories was far too crushing, and Ariah found it impossible to breathe under the pressure. She reluctantly pushed against his chest, erecting a barrier between their impassioned bodies. “Please. Please, stop. Too much. It’s too much.”

Panting, his head snapped up in response to her plea. His eyes were glazed with desire and compassion. He cursed himself and shoved his fingers through his glossy hair. “Forgive me. I should have known better. I should have never acted.”

“No. You’ve nothing to be sorry for. It’s me. I …” Her throat tensed, strangling the last of her words.

She fought to drive the tears away – but it was too late. Gabriel wrapped a hand around either side of her cheeks, reeled her face closer still, and wiped away her tears. “I cannot bear to see you weep,
ma chérie
.”

Holding her near, Gabriel laid his temple against her own and inhaled deeply. He pressed a tender kiss to her forehead.

“Tell me. Who hurt you?” The firm sound of his voice chased away her fears. Warm, damp lips lingered on her brow, soothing her. Her eyes fell shut while his fingers brushed across the slope of her chin. Both hands swept down her throat. Then he smoothed her curls forward, arranging her hair over one shoulder. “Ever since our first meeting, I’ve seen a certain darkness in your eyes. What happened? Open yourself to me.
I am here,
” he said, echoing her words from minutes ago. “Who caused you such pain?”

Ariah exhaled a withheld breath. Timed seemed to stand still. Beyond the walls, a gust of wind ominously rattled the home. The chime burst into song and helped fortify her resolve.

The only journey worth traveling starts from within.

“Who caused you such pain?” he repeated, those beautiful eyes filled with equal parts anger and sympathy.

She lifted her chin, met Gabriel’s stare, and whispered the confession: “Emmaline’s father.”

Geoffrey carries me through Paris’s winding alleyways, maneuvering past the shadows with practiced ease. The gendarmes’ shouts echo the street, each one amplified by the surrounding stonework.

Teetering within Geoffrey’s arms, I groan and take in the dreary atmosphere. Mist tumbles down the dank walkways and closes around us, cool against my cheeks.

Neither of us have uttered a word since our hasty departure from the gendarmes. Tense silence hangs in the air, relieved by Geoffrey’s melodic footfall.

Mon Dieu. What have we done? And what would Father think of me now? Tears sting my eyes with the force of a thousand daggers. I fight to harness them back, burying my face in the crook of Geoffrey’s arm. My tears would only anger him.

Flashes of the man we left to die echo in my mind. His pallid features, the sound of his voice … they shall forever be tattooed upon my memory. My limbs ache with fatigue and sorrow. The imposing buildings of the city seem to float above me as Geoffrey hastens his speed. Echoing my heartbeat, his worn boots rap against the cobblestones in rhythmic song.

My eyelids grow heavy, weighed down with tumultuous emotions as Paris slithers by in a nauseating blur. I want out of his arms, yet I can’t bring myself to fight him. I haven’t had a proper meal for days, and the toll of recent events is becoming too much to stomach.

Where is he taking me? It is cold. So cold and empty.

He brushes a stray curl from my eyes and tucks it behind my ear. Icy fingertips run up and down my spine. It’s a gesture I assume is supposed to be comforting – and one that only sickens me. Goosebumps tighten my skin, and the tiny hairs on my nape stand erect.

As if reading my thoughts, he leans forward and mutters, “We’ll lodge at the inn for the night. We have enough francs now, and it’s too damn cold out-of-doors.”

Geoffrey’s voice sounds smooth and sure – yet something lingers in his tone … something that suggests killing a man has changed him forever.

•

The inn’s room is frightfully dark, save for streams of moonlight and a twitching tallow candle. I sit on the edge of the bed, staring forward though perceiving nothing. Everything has been reduced to a dull numbness. I am cold and entirely alone. Barely speaking a word, Geoffrey left the room an hour earlier. Despite the hunger pains that have plagued me for days, my appetite has all but vanished. Now a sickening emptiness fills me … a gut-wrenching realization and despair.

With all the time in the word, the reality of what transpired this evening closes in on my conscious. I bring both legs against my chest and hide my face in my knees. A rush of exhaustion overpowers me. I give in to the weariness and lie across the mattress in a fetal position.

How I yearn for Father’s comfort … to hear the soothing lull of his voice one more time. I miss him so deeply that it often seems my heart is being torn wide open. I miss his teasing. I miss his warm smiles and even warmer laughter. I miss how I always felt safe, secure, and special in his arms. He taught me the alphabet. He taught me the ways of our little store. And he was stolen in the span of a heartbeat.

What would Father think of me now? And what has become of Miriam? Though she’s merely a half sister, for the brief time we’d been acquainted she became family in all ways that mattered.

Cursing my weakness, I blink away the tears blurring my vision. I fight to keep my upper lip stiff and proud – just as Father always said I should. Thoughts of my childhood bring a frail sense of peace to my spirit. Losing myself in the tender memories, remembering the melancholy sound of Father’s violin, I sag against the mattress and abandon myself to sleep.

•

Approaching footsteps jar me awake. A dark premonition blooms inside my gut. Heart pounding, my eyes snap open and draw to the wooden door.

How long have I been sleeping? Several hours, at the very least. Indeed, the candlestick has burned low, and beyond the window the sun is just making its ascent.

Rattling and scratching resonate as the key is inserted without finesse. A slew of muttered curses follow after. I struggle to sit up as the door creaks open. A long shaft of light splits the room in half, and Geoffrey stumbles across the threshold. The door slams behind him, shutting out the muffled laughter and chatter from the downstairs taproom. Unable to support his weight, he leans his body against the panels and squeezes both eyes shut.

“
Geoffrey? You … you were gone a long while.”

Hazy, dull eyes snap up and lock onto mine. Clearly deep in his cups, he stumbles from the door and crosses the room with dragging, clumsy steps. “Worrying for me, were you … me … my sweetling?”

I reel backward, recoiling on the mattress until I bump into the copper rails. A distinct blend of alcohol and cigar smoke wafts from his body and assaults my senses. The stench is unbearable. Bile rises inside my throat, hot, painful, and churning.

“
Geoffrey, please … we need to talk.”

“
Talk, talk, talk. All you women ever wanna do is talk your pretty brains out.” A husky chuckle resonates as he crawls onto the bed. A sheen of sweat covers his handsome features and seeps through the material of his shirt. He creeps toward me, stalking me as a lion stalks its cornered prey. “Bit scared of me, are you now? Silly li’l thing.” His speech is slurred and guttural, his breaths rancid, and each word is half-drowned in alcohol. Now within touching distance, he reaches forward and strokes his palm over my curls. I shudder as they slip through his grimy fingertips one by one.

“
My pet. Yes, that’s what you are, you know – my pet. Yes, you already know it. Mmm. Look at you. Hair like the sun. Eyes like the summer sky. A blossomin’ bud waitin’ … just waitin’ to bloom.” Then, in a slow and suggestive pursuit, his gaze slithers down and over my heaving chest. He visibly drinks me in, undressing me with those cloudy eyes. I feel consumed, vulnerable, helpless. Fear seizes my beating heart with the force of a steel fist.

“
You, Ari, are ripe for the pluckin’.” Musky, hot breaths scorch my cheeks as he scoots intimately close. Unable to speak, I mutter incoherently, press a hand against his chest, and attempt to shove him away. He merely laughs off my resistance and shakes his head. His palm slides down my shoulder, trailing over the humble curve of my bosom. “Tell me, love … why haven’t we fucked before?”

I whack his hand away with equal parts fear and anger. “Don’t you dare touch me.”

He recoils at the harsh statement. Genuine confusion creases his brow, and for a moment, he resembles a naughty little boy who’s been caught stealing sweets before suppertime.

“
Ah, you mustn’t be frightened, pet. I’ll guide you – just like I always do.” His hand shoots forward and grasps my breast in a viselike grip. Tears of betrayal spring to my eyes. How could I have been so blinded? It was my own doing. The signs had been there – yet I had chosen not to see. Anger devours me as I strike him square across the jaw. The sickening crack of flesh against flesh sounds unnaturally loud within the quiet room. Geoffrey mutely stares me down, silent and still. Blood seeps from the corner of his mouth. The flowing, scarlet ribbon reaches his chin and splatters onto his grimy shirt. Not speaking a word, he laughs and licks up the blood with his tongue.

Once he’d been my only friend. My protector, confidant, and guiding light.

Now he is a monster.

I seize the opportunity for escape. I leap from the bed at lightning speed and spring for the door. Despite his drunken stupor, Geoffrey is worlds faster, more practiced, and stronger. He catches my wrists, flings me onto the hard mattress, and pins both arms above my head.

Oh, Dieu. Help me, Father, help. I silently chant for him, but no one hears.

“
Just let me go. Please, Geoffrey …” Trapped beneath the crushing weight of his torso, I squirm, kick, and knee him, grappling to break free. Geoffrey chuckles, amused by the great show of defiance. Each word emerges from my throat between bitter, choked sobs. “If you care for me at all, if you still have any compassion for me, you will let me go. Now.”

It’s the wrong thing to say.

The words seem to momentarily sober him. Then his eyes darken. His hold tightens on my wrists until I’m sure they’ll snap in two. I cry out as jolts of pain shoot through my immobilized arms. “Leave? You spoiled, rotten, li’l bitch! You would dare leave me alone? After all I’ve done? After I’ve risked my life for your precious hide, night after fuckin’ night?”

He hovers above me, all torn emotion and vulnerability. Auburn hair falls to his collar in a tangle of unkempt waves. A strain of saliva drips from his mouth and splatters onto my forehead. I close both eyes and murmur a silent prayer, shutting out the reality of the moment. My limbs rattle beneath his fingertips as Geoffrey shakes me like a rag doll. Indeed, he handles me like a toy. Like his plaything.

“
Look at me! Ungrateful bitch! That’s how you repay me, is it? With abandonment? You, my mother, who discarded me to a fuckin’ hospice, never to look back – all you selfish whores are one and the same.”

My eyes blink open. I swallow hard and inhale a choked breath. Hatred and resentment radiate from every part of his body, palpable as the very air we share. He wants me to suffer for his mother’s sins. Any hope for escape slips from my grasp, and I descend face-first into blackness. I battle to keep my voice steady, but the tremor betrays me. “I … I am sorry, Geoffrey. Really I am. I shall never forget your kindnesses. But … but I must go. Try to understand. I must try to find my family. My sister – Miriam. She – ”

“
I’m your family! Me! I’m the one who’s been there! I’m the one who’s protected you, who’s made sure you don’t fall asleep hungry each night!” His speech still embraces a slight stammer, though each syllable sounds more coherent than the one before it. “Your family threw you onto the street! Or have you forgotten? They were the ones who hurt you! Your father, who abandoned you … his whore, who dumped you at the first home she could find!”

“
And now you are hurting me.” My voice sounds strangely calm and detached … no longer childish. I hardly recognize it as my own.

“
Non,” he retorts, “you are hurting me.” A cold stillness descends upon the both of us. Geoffrey bows his head, possibly in a rush of shame, and a strained curse falls from his lips.

I grab hold of his vulnerability. “I beg you. Let me go. I am suffocating.”

His hands tighten once more, and he spears me with narrowed eyes. “I fuckin’ killed a man for you. I sacrificed everything. Everything. And what’s my payment?” I tremble while his gaze bores deeply into my own, unblinking and calculating. All tenderness vanishes from his stare, and with it, the very last of my hope. “Both our hands are stained with blood. And yet you think you’re so much greater than me, don’t you, my pet?” Air gushes from my lungs as he unclasps the first few buttons of my dirty blouse. Nestled against my chest, the small, silver cross gleams in the moonlight. Indeed, I have kept it hidden away; for as long as I’ve known Geoffrey, he’s held a fierce hatred for religion. And now I feel his scorn, his resentment and hostility, like a tangible force.

He transfers my right wrist to his other hand, holding them both in place. Lips spread into a mocking smile, he brushes his thumb over the emblem. Then his hands settle upon the clasps. I squirm beneath the weight of his body as he unfastens the remaining buttons at a leisurely pace. Tears continue to coat my cheeks. I can’t stop them. He hesitates for a moment and shoots a contemplative gaze in my direction. “You’ve never even been kissed before, have you?” Then he leans forward and slides his dry lips over my collarbone, branding me forever.

Oh, Dieu …

His erection strains against his trousers with each movement. I struggle, jerk, and plead – but nothing seems to reach him.

We are both lost.

“
Please, Geoffrey. I beg you. Please, don’t do this. I … I have trusted you. You won’t hurt me. I know it.”

“
It’s already done. You are mine, Ari. Mine to protect. Mine to take. Mine to do with as I see fit.”

It’s too late.

Geoffrey mutters incoherently against my neck. His movements roughen. Those rancid breaths shorten. He releases my wrists, allowing both hands to ride over my breasts … down the slope of my hips … inching below the material of my tangled skirts …

Everything transforms into a nauseating blur. There is no way out of this. My tears dry as I’m forced to accept the inevitable fate.

It’s already done.

Those words were spoken with such finality, such desperation and urgency.

Geoffrey’s hands are clumsy and lack all gentleness as he urges my skirts up my thighs. He fumbles for the pantalettes’ split, ripping the material wide open. Numb and detached, I stare at the plastered ceiling with unwavering intensity. I concentrate on the sound of my own breathing rather than the sound of erratic panting and rustling clothes. I lose myself within the memories of my childhood, within Father’s laughter, within the melody of his weeping violin, within those warm summer afternoons. A silent prayer rings inside my ears while a stab of pain twists through my body. Geoffrey grumbles a slurred apology and brings his lips against my cheek. Unable to bear the hypocritical show of affection, I turn my face to the side. The pain escalates while Geoffrey increases his momentum. I fight to detach mind from body – to numb my senses and find an inner sanctuary.

But the pain tears through me like a thousand knives. Indeed, I feel everything with vivid intensity: the blinding pressure of Geoffrey’s thrusts, the grate of the rock-hard mattress against my back, the biting chill against my bared flesh. Sobs rack my entire body and blur my vision. I glare at his hovering face. Searing hatred builds within my heart.