Tender Fury (11 page)

“Gabby, you must be exhausted,” Rob said, taking the bundle from her arms. “Come, you must rest.”

Giving her no time to protest, he swooped her into his arms and laid her gently onto the soft surface of the bed. He removed her concealing cap and watched entranced as long, silvery locks cascaded over her shoulders. He took the silken strands in both his hands and lifted them to his face, breathing deeply of the clean, lemony smell. “Gabby, I…” he began hoarsely.

“No, Rob,” Gabby breathed, aware of the emotions surging through him, “Do not say it. I beg you. We are good friends; we can be nothing more.” Hurt immediately clouded his clear blue eyes but he did not dispute her words.

“I’m sorry, Gabby. Truly I am. I love you and want you desperately, but I will not force you. When the time is right I’ll make you mine and marriage vows be damned. But for now, sleep.” Then he pulled a quilt from the bed and prepared to make a pallet on the floor. Gabby was stunned by his easy acceptance of her wishes. If only Philippe had displayed a little of Rob’s patience and love.

Gabby blinked awake to a roomful of sunlight. It took only a moment to remember where she was and another moment to realize that Rob was not in the room with her. The quilt he slept on had been neatly folded and placed at the foot of the bed. On top of the quilt lay a piece of paper. Reading Rob’s note Gabby learned that he had gone to see General Jackson. She was to wait for his return and not venture out alone.

Spying a pitcher of water on the washstand, thanks no doubt to Rob’s thoughtfulness. Gabby washed and dressed in a simple gown she had brought along with her. Marie had made sure that she had enough clothing to get her by until she found employment. Then she sat by the window studying the scene below with rapt attention.

The city that had been so silent the night before had come to life. Vendors, hawking their wares, raised their voices above the din of mule-drawn drays. Gabby could even hear the sing-song voices of Negro longshoremen coming from the direction of the levee.

Concentrating-on her immediate surroundings, Gabby marveled at the beauty of the little courtyard they had entered the night before. It was beautifully landscaped with stables in the rear. Hibiscus rioted beside oleanders and palms. A bougainvillea sent a shower of blood-red blossoms up beside and over the lattice work iron balcony that ran the length of the second floor overlooking the narrow cobblestone street.

When the small enclosed carriage entered the courtyard Gabby paid it little heed until she recognized Rob as the driver. Her obvious joy on seeing him as he entered the room made his face light up with pleasure. He cared little that she was another man’s wife, he was determined to persuade her to go to his plantation in South Carolina and wait for him, especially since he had just learned he must soon leave the city on yet another mission for Andy Jackson.

“I brought you some croissants,” Rob said, setting a small sack on the table. “Eat up while I pack my belongings. I rented us a room with kitchen at Patalba Apartments on Rue Chartres.”

While Gabby munched contentedly on croissants, Rob packed his gear and carried them, along with Gabby’s meager belongings, to the carriage. He had already seen the landlady and paid her, deliberately leaving no forwarding address. After Gabby had eaten, he hurried her down the back stairs and into the carriage. Soon they were traveling through one narrow street after another until Rob finally drove through a gate and into a courtyard much like the one they had just left. As he had done the night before, Rob led her quickly up a flight of stairs and into a large, airy room that served as bedroom and sitting room. A smaller room served as kitchen. It was not an unpleasant apartment. French doors opened onto a small lacy balcony overlooking the busy street. On the opposite end of the room another pair of French doors led to another, larger balcony and the stairs they had just ascended.

“When did you have time to do all this?” Gabby asked, motioning around the room.

“I didn’t sleep well last night,” Rob said with an impish grin, “and was up very early this morning. Luckily General Jackson also is an early riser, and when our meeting concluded I went apartment hunting. Do you like it?” His boyish enthusiasm was infectious.

His desire to please made Gabby feel guilty. There was no way to repay him for his kindness. “It’s perfect,” she said. His delighted smile was like sunshine spreading across his face.

For a while they busied themselves putting away their clothing. Then Gabby said, “Tell me about your meeting with General Jackson. What has he decided to do about Jean Lafitte?”

For a brief moment a frown flitted across Rob’s forehead and Gabby mistakenly thought it boded no good for Lafitte and his men. But Rob quickly put her mind at ease. “General Jackson is desperate for aid to defend the city since the citizens themselves seem unwilling to defend themselves. After reading Lafitte’s letters and listening to my firsthand recommendations, he has decided to accept, and gladly, Lafitte’s help to fight the English.”

“What about Governor Claiborne?”

“The governor will do as Jackson says. He has no choice in the matter.” He looked searchingly at Gabby. “The document your husband brought over from France was enough to persuade Jackson of the real threat to New Orleans and made him realize how unprepared the city was to defend itself. Did you know your husband carried those secret documents, Gabby?”

“
Oui,
I knew, Rob. He told me about them after Captain Giscard was killed. He suspected someone aboard the
Windward
was a spy. He also believed his own life was in danger and asked me to deliver the papers to the general should something happen to him.”

“Yet it was you who nearly lost your life while St. Cyr made it safely to New Orleans,” mused Rob thoughtfully. “I’ve never asked you this, but how did you come to be on deck the night of the hurricane instead of safely in your cabin?”

Gabby’s face clouded as she relived those moments when she half-dragged, half-carried Philippe across the slippery deck and tied him to the mast. She shuddered, visibly shaken by thoughts of the ordeal. She could almost feel the force of that huge wave that carried her overboard. Rob was immediately contrite as he pulled her trembling body into his arms. “I’m sorry, darling,” he soothed, caressing the bright curtain of her hair. “I did not mean to dredge up painful memories. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

“Maybe sometime, Rob, but not now. It’s too fresh in my mind.”

Before he could stop himself Rob captured her mouth with his, the gentle pressure of his lips easily parting hers. His tongue, soft as velvet, made her head spin giddily and her heart beat with quick force. Suddenly her emotions were at war with her strongly nurtured conscience and her strict moral values. But it had been so long since Philippe had loved her that her body ached with a need she found hard to deny. Only when Rob’s nimble fingers had unbuttoned her dress and slipped it from her shoulder to bare a firm, white breast did Gabby come to her senses.

“No, Rob,” she pleaded, flashing him a look of entreaty. “We must not.”

“But you want me, Gabby, I can sense it from your response. I love you and I think you love me.”

Love? Did she love Rob? She was grateful to him and knew of no one else she liked as well as him. But love? Perhaps she did love him, she reasoned, still at odds with her raging emotions. But that still did not permit her to break her marriage vows.

“I don’t know what I feel, Rob,” she finally said. “I have known no other man save my husband, and him hardly at all, before I was forced into marriage. I did meet another man aboard the
Windward
but Philippe’s jealousy made it impossible for us to become friends. So you can see my experience with men has been necessarily limited.”

“This other man,” asked Rob, experiencing a pang of jealousy, “did you fall in love with him?”

“No!” denied Gabby. “We were only friends.”

“And I offer you my undying love.” Then Rob kissed her again, deeply, thoroughly and Gabby thought she would faint from giddiness. Nothing in her life had prepared her to handle such a situation.

Although she was one man’s wife she found herself physically wanting another man. Somewhere in the back of her mind she remembered her mother’s desire-filled voice begging her father to take her and her own vows that she would never allow pleasures of the flesh to dominate her life. Only then was she able to resist Rob’s passionate onslaught.

“I am not free to accept your love, Rob,” Gabby said, gently disengaging herself from his arms.

Rob’s face was flushed and his body shook with repressed desire but he was determined to wait until she came to him. With trembling hands he helped her pull the bodice of her dress into place to cover the tantalizing flesh he had bared just moments before. “Forgive me, Gabby, I will not pressure you although it is torture for me to remain near you and not have you,” he said, disappointment bitter in his voice. “If I cannot know your love at least once leaving you will be all the harder.”

“Leaving!” gasped Gabby with dismay. “So soon? Where are you going?”

“General Jackson has ordered me on another mission. The army is in such short supply of flints and ammunition that he is sending foraging parties all over the countryside in search of them. At the end of the week I will lead a small group of men up to Natchez where a scout has heard about a cache of arms and flints hidden someplace in Natchez-under-the-Hill. I must locate them, buy them and transport them down river to New Orleans.”

“Is it dangerous?” Gabby asked, suddenly fearful that she would never seen him again.

“Don’t worry, darling. It’s not a particularly dangerous mission.”

“How long will you be gone?”

“Not any longer than I have to. Certainly no more than a month,” he assured her. “I have just enough time to arrange for you to go to South Carolina to my parents’ plantation. They will take care of you. Please, darling,” he pleaded when she began shaking her head in protest, “how can I leave knowing you will be alone?”

“I will be safe enough here while you are gone,” she insisted stubbornly.

Rob frowned, deep lines creasing his usually sunny countenance. He knew he could not force her to leave. “Will you promise not to run off on your own in a strange city?”

“I promise,” she answered solemnly.

“Gabby, I have never questioned you before, buy why you are reluctant to return to your husband? I don’t know him but General Jackson thinks highly of him.”

“Then your general does not know him!” spat Gabby vehemently. “He is a killer, a man who murdered his own wife!”

“My God, Gabby! Do you know what you are saying?”

“He told me himself and I have no reason to doubt him. He is cold, arrogant, and hateful; he treats me as a possession, not as a wife. I never want to see him again!”

“And you never shall, darling. When this battle is over nothing will prevent me from taking you to South Carolina. Not even your own protests.”

The following days passed swiftly. Gabby did not attempt to leave the small apartment but sat often on the balcony. Rob was gone much of the time, caught up with duties and his expedition to Natchez. He did manage to find time to stock the kitchen with supplies, and to take her out into the French marketplace disguised as a boy to acquaint her with the place in the unlikely event he should be gone longer than anticipated.

Each night, after a look of intense longing at the bed, Rob made his pallet on the floor without comment. On their last day together he took her out of the
vieux carre
in a closed carriage for a picnic along the banks of Lake Ponchartrain. The days were turning cooler but the sun was still warm when they reached the secluded spot Rob had chosen for their outing. She felt like a child on her first picnic, which in truth it was. She sipped cool wine and ate crusty bread and cheese as if it were the most extravagant feast in the world. Later they walked hand in hand along the beach and explored the surrounding woods. Rob was attentive where Philippe had been uncaring of her feelings; Rob was warm and gentle where Philippe was cruel and arrogant. Why then did she not love Rob? They lingered long enough to view the perfect sunset to end a perfect day.

Rob was full of last minute instructions when they returned to the Patalba Apartments. “Don’t go out without your disguise, for St. Cyr is still in the city,” he warned. “Lieutenant Gray has returned to New Orleans from Barataria and your husband must know by now that you are alive. There is enough money in the bureau drawer to last until I return. When I return things will have to be settled between us, darling, because I cannot continue like this. Your nearness has driven me mad these past days.” Then he drew her into his arms. “Promise me you will not leave in my absence. That you will be waiting for me when I return.”

“I shall be here when you return,” promised Gabby, touched by his caring.

That night, as usual, Rob made his pallet on the floor and after a goodnight kiss which Rob seemed unwilling to break off, both retired to their own bed. Gabby could hear him tossing and turning on the hard floor, but hardened her heart against his need. Finally she fell asleep, troubled by her dreams as she squirmed restlessly on the bed suddenly grown too big for one person. She dreamed she was aboard the
Windward,
in the cabin she knew so well, with Philippe. She could almost feel his hands upon her body, arousing her in the many ways she had come to know, to desire. Suddenly she was wide awake. The hands exploring with gentle firmness were as real as the warm presence next to her. Shocked, she started to rise.

“No, Gabby, stay with me,” Rob begged. “Let me love you this once before I leave, my darling. My God,” he sobbed, “I want you so badly. Please let me love you!”

His kisses felt soft and gentle on her lips but did not stop there. With trembling hands he drew her nightdress over her head, tossing it to the floor, then proceeded to discover all the sweet, secret places of her body for himself. Her feeble protests went unnoticed as she vainly tried to push him aside.