Authors: Marie Lavender
He nodded yet the remorse had not left him, and he couldn't force himself to show otherwise.
Fara sighed. “We cannot dwell on the past, Grant. If we do, we will begin to hate each other...” She tried to smile. “I can no longer blame you for what I went through and I refuse to hate you for any of it.”
Grant sighed. “I do not deserve you...” he trailed off. Deep down, he knew what he had done to her would not go unnoticed. He knew she thought about it often, or else why would she mention the length of his absence so abruptly? She still felt its sting. How could she not? He'd neglected her in a time of need and that explained why she frequently abandoned herself to thought while they were together.
Fara frowned. “Why did you become a traitor to our country, Grant?”
His head shot up, his eyes narrowed. It took him awhile to begin as he had to collect his thoughts. “It wasn't planned at first. There was a business opportunity to trade…”
“And then?”
“And then it became an obligation I couldn't push aside. I--”
“Were you blackmailed?”
He shrugged. “I could only get out of it once the mission was accomplished. I had to keep going away to fulfill that obligation. They would send me letters conveying their need of certain merchandise, certain services only I could give them.”
“Because you were a trades captain--”
“Because I was a man,
chère
, and because I was French. I had informants…contacts to find what they needed. They were using me for what they wanted.”
“What did you get in return?”
He scoffed. “Their protection, in case France discovered my identity.”
“France warned you though, said you would not even have an opportunity for defection if you kept playing into the enemy's hands.”
“
Oui
,” he agreed.
“Are you still under obligation?”
“No. I escaped that when the Turks took me for prisoner. They received news of the attack and assumed I would die an old man locked away forever. Or killed from torture. I was able to return here because France no longer sees them as the enemy. Politics are a complicated issue, evolving constantly.”
“I see,” she whispered. Then she looked away.
The silence was a lot to bear. He knew he had probably disgusted her by the details, but she had asked, and he felt it was only right that she finally know the truth. He would have told her long ago if he could have. He took a deep breath. “You know you deserve better than I can give you. You deserve a man with more worth…some arrogant aristocrat.”
She shook her head, laughing softly. “A man like that would never be enough. He would be so full of himself there'd be little room to care for me.”
“As mistress of his dwelling, you would have
some
power…”
“
Oui
…I think he would probably be having affairs as often as possible after we were wed. Not that it would matter, I suppose. I wouldn't be able to prevent it.”
With a frown, he shook his head. “Why a man would ever do that to any woman, especially if it was you, is beyond me. You would be happy with his protection at the least, no?”
“Ah, but I would never love this mystery man you speak of.”
“In time you might.”
“Not with a handsome yet devilish captain leaving footprints on my heart…and my carpeting for that matter,” she said pointedly.
He looked down to see the puddle of water he'd left on the floor from when he'd returned after seeing to the needs aboard
La Voyageur
, and chuckled. “You are too much,
Mademoiselle
…”
“Perhaps, but all I'm trying to say is that I really do deserve you. I want to be with you. Can you not see that?”
“Of course I can,” he muttered roughly, dragging her against him so that her breasts were pressed to his chest. “You've waited this long. It's fairly obvious that your dedication conveys how much you need me around.” He set his lips to hers, his intent to make her forget the complications between them. He hoped she could.
* * * *
A week later Fara glanced over the newspaper in the library and read of an opera playing in town, Gounod's
La reine de Saba
, which was about a tragedy based loosely on the Christian story of King Solomon. Beseeching to Grant, they made plans to attend that evening. Fara prepared herself by consulting with Lina and Rosalie on what to wear while Grant went to purchase the tickets and prepared Pierre to drive them.
For the event, Fara, dressed in a gown of light blue muslin and ivory trim with blue pins entwined into her done-up tresses. She took Grant's arm as she came down the stairs from her room. Grant, as well, was splendidly dressed in a black suit with a white silk cravat about his neck. Her aunt and Gabe looked on with interest and pride as they left the house. Lina had waved the offer to attend, claiming an evening at home was much more appealing after all the entertaining she had done earlier in the week.
At the opera, there were so many people present it was hard to keep track of the numerous couples and families who acknowledged them. Though many of the ladies that attended the opera were those that she had often seen at teas or parties, Fara did not know them well enough to launch into long conversation. For most of the time, as the orchestra tuned up their instruments, she and Grant observed the grandeur that had been maintained in the theater and murmured low agreements.
Though she had spent much time away from the house with Grant, she felt tonight was a more public announcement of their betrothal. It had been several months since his return, and they had made a lot of progress with regard to their relationship. When they were together, they discussed everything from politics to the past to Gabriel's imaginings. The only thing that had been neglected, other than the fact that she still did not know how deeply he felt about her, was a physical union. Fara could claim that she wondered if their attraction was still as potent as it had been in the past. Though she was attracted to Grant, and his frequent kisses confirmed that fact, they rarely explored anything further than holding one another.
Despite the fact that it was an intimacy in itself, she often wondered if it wouldn't be so wrong to make love. They were going to be married. Besides, it wasn't like before when they had simply carried on an affair as discreet as possible before circumstances blatantly exposed it to society. Now they could publicly express their feelings by the knowledge that they were engaged and everything would soon be right.
She had not spoken to Grant about her concern. A part of her wanted to bring it up; another was afraid that it would change the openness between them. As the festivities began, she continued to be distracted by it. At one point, when the character Solimon expressed his deep love to Balkis, the queen, Grant looked at her intently, squeezing her hand. She smiled in return, wondering if that was a sign that he felt the same way. But, he did not say anything.
At the close of the opera, as they made their way toward the aisles and to the front of the opera house, they said their goodbyes to acquaintances and such. Grant found her shawl that had been held for her in the coat room and slipped it over her shoulders. That one touch, a caress on her bare skin, made her heart skip a beat. Glancing sideways at him, she looked into his eyes, dark and mysterious as they always were. But, tonight she saw something different, a tenderness of some kind. Melting beneath his gaze, she felt warm all over. Grant looked away, clearing his throat.
At that moment, she realized he had been changed somewhat by propriety. Where he had always been discreet before, he had usually allowed her to see his need of her. Part of her wished the betrothal had not made them so careful to be with one another. It was certainly not the life she'd wished for either of them, to constantly guard their emotions. Perhaps it was those four long years between them that had complicated everything. Grant helped her to the carriage and they sat quiet inside while it moved toward her aunt's house.
She wanted to tell him it was all right to feel something now, that they could be themselves if they wanted. Did society allow that? Not really, no. She used to envy the personal conviction Grant once had, that he would do the right thing or what he thought was right no matter what that meant. Now, it was not a question of ethics. It was a matter of what was needed in any romantic relationship, between man and woman, or husband and wife. It was a need to have everything out in the open for all to see. But, the public eye was not entitled to such a view. It was a personal need, a matter of trust. That two people could trust one another enough to be together, to let society fall away in a moment that was everlasting.
Fara smiled. She'd always been the idealist, a believer in romance, for she had been born as such; her parents had been an influence of that kind. The only way to tell Grant it was all right for them to feel what they did for each other was to do so and let the cards fall where they may. Passion should not have to measure up to society. On completely different planes, they were like day and night. Society would be damned in the face of passion.
As the carriage pulled up to the house, Grant exited, and then helped her out. He escorted her up to her room. He lowered his face to place a kiss on her upturned cheek and then turned away, but she stayed him, grasping fistfuls of his evening coat.
“Fara?”
“I love you.”
He smiled and held her close. “I know, love. And I cannot imagine a day without you.”
“That is not all I meant to say.”
He pulled away to look at her face. “What is it?”
She led him further inside the room and shut the door. “Is it so wrong for us to be together? Shouldn't we have something too?” She sighed. “I am tired of the façade for the sake of others, of the constant need to be proper. Aren't you?”
He lifted a brow. “I thought that was what you wanted.”
“I did at one time. But, I have everything I want here and now. I have a family. I have Lina, Gabriel, and you. That is all I've ever wanted. To love and be loved.” She gasped. “We shouldn't have to repress everything to be together.”
He grasped her shoulders. “Do you mean--”
“I need you, Grant. I want you. I--”
“Oh, Fara,” he said, cupping her face and then he kissed her deeply. His hands moved down her back, caressing her. Fara felt those old sensations of pleasure returning as quickly as if they'd never left. Moaning, she kissed him back, rising on her tiptoes, incited by his obvious ardor. Dizzy with desire, she lost her footing and when she would have fallen, he scooped her up and laid her easily on the bed. She pulled him down with her onto the mattress, clinging to his lips like a bee to the scent of a flower.
He took his time to undress her, placing a kiss to each section of skin he uncovered. Then, he undressed quickly and joined her again on the bed. Slowly, but deftly, he explored her body and had her reeling with mind-numbing pleasure. When he was to enter her, she gripped his shoulder to stop him and he lifted his head.
“What is it, love?”
“It has been a long time…”
“
Oui
, it has. It could sting like the first time, perhaps.”
She remembered how that first time had been rewarding at the same time. “Perhaps. It is just…I am afraid.” She trembled in spades despite Grant's reassuring touch.
“I would never hurt you, Fara. Don't be afraid. We were meant to be as one.” Bringing her hand to his lips, he kissed it.
She nodded, but sensed a hesitance in the rigidity of his body. Searching his dark gaze, a long breath left him.
“We do not have to, love, if it is your wish.”
“I do want to.” Relief crossed his features, and she giggled as he pressed kisses over her face. She accepted that he would do as he promised. He would not hurt her. Then, taking the kiss he offered as well as the weight of his body as he entered her, she saw that he was right. It was just as before, the passion as great a need as hunger but one that it is never slaked entirely. As the sensations built and their climaxes matched, it was true. It was the epitome of perfection. They were meant to be together. Just as they had been on that long ago night when he'd saved her from those men.
Chapter Twenty
Waking up next to him, Fara knew that nothing had changed between them physically over the years. In fact, she felt more in love with him than ever before. Still, he'd not said anything to reveal that he felt the same way toward her. His presence soothed her fears, but she longed to hear the words. She buried her face against his shoulder and bit back the urge to cry. Was his desire the only thing that had driven him to return to her? The thought seemed cruel and uncaring.
She supposed since losing her parents, she had needed someone to love her. Her uncle had either been unable or unwilling. She always sensed his indifference to her. Perhaps the reason had been because of her femininity. If she had been born a man instead of a woman, it might have been different. Or perhaps not. Michel
de
Bellamont had always been a difficult man. She couldn't name one person, male or female, who had ever won his approval…well, besides Nicholas Bordeaux or Jean Le Croíx. And maybe there were unknown reasons for that as well.
“What are you thinking about,
chère
?”
His voice came as a rumble in his chest and she brushed her fingertips through the hair covering his skin. “My uncle,” she replied softly.
“Why?”
She took a deep breath, wondering if her thoughts might convey her need of him. “I don't believe he ever loved anyone in his life…”
He caressed her back in small circles. “Sometimes I wondered how a woman such as yourself could have endured his treatment of you. Then I realized he made you who you were inadvertently. He was a difficult man who only expected subservience. I don't think he realized just how strong you were.”
“He set out to make me a socialite.”
He lifted his head to look at her. “Were you not,
chère
? I think that quality never left you.”
She nodded, her chin pressing into his skin. “I suppose I was the woman he raised except for a few hidden strengths of character.”
“Those which I have seen,” he reminded her.
“
Oui
,” she whispered, and then turned her head on the pillow. She stared at the door distractedly. The light shining underneath it from the corridor was suddenly blotted out, and Fara tensed.
“What is it,
chère
?” His gaze followed hers. Anger flashed in his dark eyes as he turned back to her. “I think we have visitors…”
She felt the sudden tightening of his muscles. “
Tante
?”
“Your aunt sleeps sounder than a newborn calf.”
This was true. But, she had been known to be awake at the most prevalent of times. “Who then?”
“That is simply left to the imagination.”
It would not be a servant. Rosalie, Francoise or Pierre never bothered anyone at night. It would be beyond the limits of their duties to do so. “Would they dare disturb us?”
“Only if there was enough motive.”
There was no reason to think their intruders were out to do them harm, but anything was possible. And he seemed to be taking it as something graver than the simple prospect of being discovered by her aunt.
“Grant,” she whispered, suddenly fearful for their shared predicament. “It's…” she began, but then realized he was merely going with instinct.
“Don't,
chère
.” He placed a quick kiss on her lips. “Just do what I say. Clothe yourself as fast as possible and we'll soon find out the identity of our intruders.” He rolled from her and yanked his slacks from the vanity nearby.
Fara reached for her chemise and corset, without bothering to tighten the laces, and quickly pulled on her dress over them. All of these tasks would normally be done by her nursemaid, but there was no time for that. She abandoned her stockings and jammed her feet into her slippers. When she straightened, she saw that Grant was fully dressed and unsheathing his rapier. She was not aware he had taken it with him to the opera, though most self-respecting captains carried some kind of protection. A shaft of fear rose up her spine as his eyes locked onto hers. Then he grasped her wrist and guided her to stand behind him.
Suddenly, the door swung open and two dark figures stood in the doorway. No light poured into the room, making it obvious the lamps in the hallway had been doused. Fara blinked in the darkness, holding her breath for several seconds as they waited for the right moment to reveal the identity of their intruders. Fara could still feel his grasp on her wrist, but it was gentle compared to the tension she felt emanating from the rest of his body.
Mon Dieu
, she thought. Where was Gabriel? Or
Tante
Lina, for that matter? Were they in danger as well? She swallowed her fear and focused on the two men who were unaware of the couple hiding among the shadows of the room. Only a sliver of moonlight spilled into the room from the window and it illuminated the bed.
“I do not see them!” one man hissed.
“They haven't had time to leave. They're here; don't worry. Besides, look at the bed. They haven't been out of it for long. Suppose they are sharing a bath in the other room?” he gestured to the adjoining bath.
“What do you suggest we do?”
“Wait for them to come out. I'm sure
Mademoiselle
Bellamont would want to know the whereabouts of her family. Come, we will wait in the study.”
Anger surged inside of Fara. She was tempted to lash out at the man for abducting her son, but Grant's grasp suddenly tightened and she knew he had some idea of her current thoughts and advised her against it. Her gaze shifted between the two men and then the door shut behind them. Fara sighed in relief, gasping with panicked breaths. Suddenly with a gentle force, she found herself backed up against the wall. She inhaled his scent and looked up into his gray eyes, which caught the moonlight.
“You're a smart lady. However, vengeance at the moment is not wise. We need a plan, Fara. I don't know what these men want with you, but I wager we'll find out soon enough. Also, I think we should expect another man to be involved…”
“Why?”
“It makes sense. Those two can be outnumbered easily enough. It leads me to believe that neither of them planned this trip. I imagine they're to report to him their progress this very evening.”
“So, what now?”
“I would love to meet the man behind this operation. If he is a worthy opponent--”
“Grant, no!” she whispered, tears starting in her eyes.
“Don't fret so,
chère
,” he said softly. “I will not desert you.”
“That doesn't worry me.”
“The thought of my death then…”
“
Oui
,” she supplied without denial.
“We agree on that at least. The prospect of my death is as disturbing as the abduction of your family.” He sighed. “I hate to ask this…”
“What?”
“Have you gained any enemies at all in my absence,
chère
?” He frowned when her eyes widened and she shook her head. “Still, I had to be sure. Not even one?”
She thought for a moment. “Everyone has enemies of their own, I suppose. But, I don't believe I've made any. I've turned down a few proposals.”
He suddenly gripped her forearms. “Could this man not be a previous lover?”
She winced. “Not a lover.”
“
Oui
, I seem to remember you denying that charge…” His hold loosened and his thumbs rubbed her arms, as if he'd realized he was hurting her.
“I wouldn't lie about that. I thought that was fairly obvious.”
He nodded.
Fara frowned. “Grant, could he not be your enemy as well?”
“It is something to consider. If a past foe of mine discovered my whereabouts, he might choose to retaliate by seeking out the very woman I chose as my mistress long ago. By using this form of blackmail, he might get what he wants.”
She nodded. “He went after
Tante
Lina and Gabriel, our son…”
“It is a threat of its own, I hate to admit, considering the child is of flesh and blood and Lina is a caretaker.”
She spun away to pace in front of the windows. “
Mon Dieu
…what do we do now?” The lights of the harbor were hardly comforting tonight and she swallowed against the panic rising in her throat.
He groaned. “Damn. We need a plan. If I'd been aware of this man's tactics two days ago
–”
“Don't, Grant. No one is to blame for this.”
“There's Gabriel…”
She turned back to approach him and her heart warmed at the concern she saw in his eyes. Suddenly, she felt sure this man was capable of real affection if he already cared for their son, whom he barely knew. “He will be all right. He is a smart boy.”
He searched her gaze eagerly. “You are so strong…”
“Oh, Grant. Don't you see? I'm only strong because I have to be, not because I want to be.”
He grasped her chin in his hand and kissed her full on the lips. The circumstances were less than acceptable, but she didn't fight him. She was too tired to fight anymore.
“Fara,” he whispered, lowering his head so that it met her forehead. “The last thing I want you to have to go through is something like this. To have to worry about your family as well as your own safety is too much to ask of you.”
“It cannot be helped.” She watched his features harden to match her inner turmoil. “What are you thinking?”
“You would not wish my answer.”
“Tell me,” she pleaded softly.
He gripped his rapier in a competent grasp and studied her face. “Any threat against the woman I need, my woman, is a threat against me.”
His words had been carefully planned; she could see that now. 'The woman I need'…'my woman', he'd said, but no, never once would he say 'the woman I love'. She feared he hadn't known the emotion enough in his life to identify it. Or, did he know it, but chose not to say it because he didn't feel it? She was his mistress in a way and his fiancé, but never the woman he loved. Never that, and never would she know the thrill of hearing it on his lips unless some miracle happened to change things, to force him to awaken to reality.
She risked her heart every time she accepted his kisses, every time she believed him, every time she stood to fight with him. She was risking it as he stood here, prepared to protect her and Gabriel in front of God and everyone. And her heart was breaking even as the minutes ticked away, each one symbolizing the small amount of life Gabriel might have left if they did not reach him in time. She shook the thought away and tightened her jaw against the onset of emotion. She would not break; she could not.
“Fara…”
She jerked her head up to meet his gaze. There she saw a kind of pain she'd never witnessed, and it took all of her reserve to keep from dragging him into her arms. “Grant?”
“You don't have to be so strong with me. I never asked that of you.”
She smiled sadly. “I know. It's something I have to beat, the urge to be strong.”
He nodded. “I used to admire you for that.”
She frowned. “And…
no longer?”
“Now I merely want you to trust me enough to see you in all ways, even when you're not strong.”
She reached for him at that moment, so absorbed by the plea and the utter need in his gray eyes. “I never meant to cause you pain.”
“It doesn't matter. I only want your trust,” he said, pulling her close.
“Oh, Grant,” she whispered. “I trust you completely. I always have. Sometimes I'm just afraid I'll make a fool of myself--”
He lifted her chin with a single finger. “You no longer have cause to be afraid of that with me…”
For a long moment, Fara was captivated by his dark gaze. “I know,” she whispered and then she kissed him, feeling a need to convey all her love in that single kiss. When she pulled back, he smiled, and she would have given anything to know what he was thinking.
“Do you want me as well, Fara?”
“
Oui
, but there is much more at stake…our son's life.”
“
Oui, chère
. I wish it wasn't so. We desperately need a plan.”
Fara nodded. “I could create a diversion while you look for
Tante
Lina and Gabriel.”
“
Oui
, it might work. But, I also need to somehow get a message to Eric on
La Voyageur
. My ship might be our only escape tonight if the plan fails.”
“Hmm…I can see your concern. Perhaps you might be able to escape, ride out for help while I try to find my family.”
“That would be putting you in unnecessary danger.”
“Might you have a better idea, Grant?”
The moonlight shone on his face. His eyes narrowed in frustration. “No, but it doesn't mean I approve. Maybe I could stay--”
“Stay and fight those men while risking our son's life…whereas if I remained here, they would see me as no threat because I am only a woman.”