Chapter Fourteen #2
“I’ve never known him to do so.” She hesitated, then admitted with a rather bitter smile, “An he did, I might not be aware. Unhappily, we share few interests. He had told me that the piece I was to collect from the jeweller was of great antiquity. That is why I did not question the fact that it was so—strange. Quite different from any chess piece I ever saw.”
Among the debris on the floor was a torn sheet of paper. Rossiter picked it up, found a pencil, and handed both to Naomi. “I know how clever you are with your sketchbook. Could you draw the article you lost?”
Using a book for backing, she began to sketch.
“’Twas smaller than this, actually. About three inches tall,” she murmured.
“And surprisingly heavy. It was of pink jade, I think. Rounded at the top … so. Like a gravestone. And with what looked for all the world to be rubies inset here … here … and here.…”
Watching her intently, Rossiter said, “Jove, but it does indeed look like a miniature gravestone. Was there any other design at all?”
“Yes,” she said, her pencil busy. “A carven face, similar to some of the drawings that have been found where the ancient people dwelt, so that it appears like a tiny man, with—”
Morris wandered up to peer over her shoulder, and exclaimed, “Blister it! That is my toy!”
Two pairs of surprised eyes shot to him, and Maggie, still tidying industriously, paused to stare at him, and say under her breath, “At his age!”
“Your—what?” gasped Rossiter.
Tearing at his hair in remorseful humiliation, Morris cried, “Oh, Jupiter, what a dolt I am! I thought ’twas a toy!”
Rossiter demanded wrathfully, “Do you say you have it? And have said nothing, all this blasted time?”
“Mea culpa,” groaned his friend. “I trod on the silly thing just after I shot that clod Falcon. When you started raving about a chess piece it did not occur to me— Well, I would never have thought of it as such!”
“What the devil did you do with it?”
“Popped it in my pocket. When I reached home, m’sister was there to greet me, with all the family, don’tcha know, and I presented it to my little niece.” He turned to Naomi and explained sheepishly, “Didn’t have nothing else, you see. Left the rest of my gifts at the Red Pheasant!”
“Then you know where it is,” said Gideon. “You can get it back!”
“I’ll—er, try. Have to post out to Guildford. Gad!” Morris looked daunted. “Have you ever tried to wrest a toy from a little girl?”
Naomi suggested with a smile, “You must make her an exchange, Lieutenant. A pretty doll would likely be more welcome than that small ruby man, or—whatever it is.”
“Take the carriage,” said Rossiter urgently. “I can use one of the hacks we keep here. Be a good fellow and bring the ruby figure to Snow Hill tomorrow, will you?”
With a good-humoured wink at Naomi, Morris grumbled, “I collect I must be grateful to be allowed to overnight with my sister.”
They walked outside. Both vehicles had been taken to the barn, and Naomi asked that Morris give her coachman instructions to prepare to return to Town. Watching the lieutenant’s swinging stride as he left them, Rossiter murmured, “Poor Jamie. He pays a price for his friendship with me.”
“As do we all,” teased Naomi.
He glanced at her, smiling. He was less gaunt than when he had first come home, and looked calm, but she knew him, and was aware that behind his poise he was grieved and raging because of the savagery perpetrated on his home.
It was so typical that he would put aside his own concerns, and worry for his friend at such a moment.
Sympathy brought a tightness to her throat.
She said impulsively, “Mon pauvre, what a horrid time you have had. You must wish you had not come home.”
He lifted her hand to his lips. “No, how could I wish that, when I had lost everything that gave my life meaning? My headstrong pride robbed me of my family, my home, my heart.…” One long finger touched the delicate curve of her upturned cheek.
“I deserved what I brought upon myself. The worst aspect of it all was that my foolishness wounded others. Had I stayed in England, I might have persuaded my father to—different practices, so that all this worry and heartbreak could have been avoided. My sister need not have known such anxieties. I would not have lost my love.…”
Fighting to be sensible, when she longed to throw herself into his arms, she said, “You seem very sure of that last, sir.”
“I am very sure I mean to win her back to me.”
‘No man should have such speaking eyes,’ she thought, and was relieved when the carriage came rumbling up, Morris waving from the window and calling cheerily that he would “climb that confounded hill” again in the morning.
Rossiter waved, and shouted, “Be sure ’tis morning! I know you, slugabed! And have a care!”
The carriage was past then, and Naomi said, “I shall say farewell also, Gideon.”
“But you have not yet told me why you came.”
“You know very well.” She turned away, but he did not relinquish his grip on her hand.
“An honest answer, an you please, my lady.”
“I was coming this way, at all events. I go to Ashleigh to—er, to visit Mr. Neville Falcon.”
“I wonder Miss Katrina did not accompany you. She is said to be most fond of her papa.” Naomi disdaining to respond to this provocation, he suggested, “It might be as well to tell your coachman you have changed your mind again.” She frowned at him, and he pointed out, “You just gave orders that he was to take you back to Town.”
“Oh. A—er, slip of the tongue, is all.”
“My grandmama used to say one should not tell fibs, else one’s mouth will become crooked.” His fingertip drifted across her lips.
Determined not to shiver, she twisted her mouth grotesquely.
With a low laugh he said, “If you make your lips so kissable, dear heart, they will surely be kissed.”
At this, she trembled, and ducked her head.
He murmured, “Naomi … Beloved—look at me.”
She raised her eyes, met his own, and was lost. “I am … so afraid,” she whispered.
Disregarding the possibility that the coachman would see them, or that Maggie might very well be watching from the window, Gideon pulled her into his arms. She clung to him, her cheek pressed against his cravat.
“Afraid for us, my lovely sprite?”
“Yes. No. I do not know, but— Oh, Gideon, I have such a dreadful fear that—that something terrible lies ahead! I think I could not bear it if—”
His hand was under her chin again, tilting up her face. His eyes adoring her, he asked, “If—what?”
Tears gemmed her lashes. She said threadily, “You have suffered so much. If aught were to happen to you…”
Exultant, he cried, “Then you do still care for me! Praise heaven! I have not lost you! How I dreamed of bringing you here to Tranquillity Terrace and—”
An arrow seemed to pierce her. Unutterably shocked, her eyes opened very wide.
She pushed against him trying to wrench free, a sob of mingled pain and rage escaping her.
“Oh, but you are vile! Vile! And I am a stupid, trusting fool! How dare you use that name in front of me, when you and your horrid lightskirt—”
His hands gripped her arms like steel bands. Without the faintest sign of remorse, he said, “My, how the gossips have gabbled! Sweet, foolish little one—do you not yet know?”
“I know I will not love you again,” she sobbed, scattering tears, and with her lips trembling pathetically. “I will not let you hurt me again! You are … are without conscience or decency! Womanizing all over Europe … and w-with children in … in every port!”
“Oh, egad,” he groaned. “I had forgot about my children.”
“Forgot!” Appalled, she gulped, “Infamous brute! I only hope—”
“Be quiet,” he said very softly.
Really, the command was redundant, for she could not utter a word with his lips crushing her own.
For three whole seconds she tried to fight him, but once again, her resistance was overborne and she drifted with abandoned delight through a time that might have been a second or an hour, until Rossiter sighed and drew back.
Dazed, she opened her eyes. His cheek was against her hair. His arms, so strong, so dear, still cradled her. She uttered a whimper of frustration. She had weakened again! Despising herself, she pounded one small fist against his chest, and moaned feebly, “I hate you, Gideon Rossiter!”
He chuckled. “If that was a demonstration of your hatred, you may hate me forever. And indeed, were I as base as you believe, I’d scarce blame you.”
Pulling back her head, she looked up at him searchingly.
He wiped away a tear very gently. “Have you no notion of how much I love you? Can you really suppose that with your precious image always in my heart, I could really care for any other lady?”
“But—” she began, uncertain but yearning to be convinced.
He had not wanted to talk about this, but it was very evident that his reticence had deepened her doubts.
He said reluctantly, “Beloved one, when I was in the hospital for so long, there were times when— Well, when hope seemed rather useless, and reality was so—unpleasant that I fashioned myself a retreat: a lovely country house just like this one. I put you in it, and as the months went by, I pictured you growing from the girl I had left behind, into a gentle and beautiful lady.”
Incredulous, she whispered, “Me?”
He said tenderly, “You were the lady I fled to, so very often and this was our refuge—my Tranquillity Terrace.”
“Oh, my dear! My dear,” she said, joy mingling with pity for his ordeal. “I feel so ashamed. But—but everyone said … I mean—you spoke so often of your lady.”
“I was delirious at times, and they tell me I raved so that the other fellows thought—” He shrugged, and admitted with a boyish grin, “They were all so envious. I decided not to spoil my newly acquired reputation. Besides…’twas a very personal thing, and not to be shared with others.”
Radiant, she said happily, “Then—then you really did still love me?”