The Forgiven Duke Part 2

"She hasn't needed all of that. Why do you think she needs you? Maybe you need her."

Gabriel stopped, his next words falling away. He stared at Baylor, such an innocent and seemingly simple man, but a man who saw the truth. The giant's face remained thoughtful. Gabriel looked away and said in a soft voice, "You're right. I do need her."

Finally Baylor rubbed his knees and said, "Lord Lemon is Montague's nephew. He's a good chap, he is."

Montague's nephew? He hadn't thought of that, anything close to it. "Where is Montague? Is he on the s.h.i.+p with Alexandria?"

"No. Montague is at John's house healing up from a stabbing." Baylor scowled. "A couple of Spaniards are following the la.s.s and they attacked them a few weeks ago. I didn't attend the event so's I wasn't there to help fight them, I'm sorry to say." Gabriel hurriedly read the words, his heart beating a little faster.

The Spanish wanted this ma.n.u.script as badly as Alexandria wanted her parents alive. They were probably on that s.h.i.+p with her now. And she only had that John fellow as protection. He looked too pretty to be of much good. Gabriel caught himself clenching his teeth and took a long, deep breath.

"Can you take me to Montague? I have to talk to him." Montague would understand all the nuances to the kind of mission Gabriel had in mind and be more logical than this sentimental giant.

Baylor drained his fourth mug and grinned, foam covering the orange hair on his upper lip. "That, your dukes.h.i.+p, I can do."

Gabriel shook his head, smothering a smile. "Your Grace."

"Your what?"

"Never mind."

AFTER UNTANGLING BAYLOR'S CART FROM the horses' reins, they made a plodding procession to John Lemon's house. It was a quaint street and well kept, Gabriel reflected as they rode up and dismounted, but nothing compared to his town house in London, nor even a shadow of Bradley House in Wilts.h.i.+re. The fact that Alexandria hadn't even seen what he had to offer in comparison rankled, even though Gabriel knew she loved a ramshackle castle on Holy Island, a home with a gothic, windswept feel to it that would be hard to replace.

They knocked on the door and stood outside waiting. It took an inordinate amount of time but finally a maid, mop cap askew atop her curly brown hair, flung it open. Upon seeing Baylor her face broke into a wide smile. "Baylor! How did your task go? Were you able to detain the duke?" Her gaze flickered over Meade and then paused on Gabriel. Gabriel raised a brow at her.

"Oh, dear." She swallowed hard with a nervous laugh. "You're the duke, aren't you?" She sank into a curtsy and said some other things Gabriel couldn't make out.

"We've come to see Montague," he interrupted in his best authoritative voice. "He is here, isn't he?"

She looked toward Baylor who started inside. "Come along. I'll show you."

They found Montague seated in a neat sitting room, his feet propped up and a book in his lap. He sat up straighter as they entered. His eyes caught and held Gabriel's for a long moment, and then he nodded in an imitation of a bow. Gabriel took in his bandaged chest under the half-open s.h.i.+rt and understood, especially in a man of his years, why he didn't stand.

A sudden memory surfaced, streaking images of a sea battle from his navy days as he looked at Montague. He'd saved this man's life, long before Montague was an admiral. When Gabriel was just one of the lieutenants, he'd thrown himself on top of him, dragging him away as a cannon blew nearby. The blast had been horrendous. He lost consciousness and woke up in a hospital in Jamaica. He had not been able to recall what had happened until this very moment.

"Do you remember me, Admiral?"

Montague gave a slow nod. "When Alex told me who her guardian was, I agreed to become her champion. I owed it to you, if nothing else, to keep her safe." He looked away. "Though after getting to know her, I couldn't have abandoned her. She has become like a daughter to me."

Meade hurried to write down the words and Gabriel responded. "It appears she needed a protector. I understand you had a run-in with a knife."

Montague's lips curled into a half smile and he shrugged one shoulder. "Spaniards. You might have shown up earlier and helped, Your Grace." They both chuckled. "What's with the book?"

Gabriel took the seat across from him. He folded his hands into his lap, hating to have to say the next words to this man of distinction. "I would like to introduce my secretary, Mr. Meade. Meade will take down what you say in a speaking book, as I've had some difficulty hearing of late."

Montague's intelligent blue eyes darted to Meade and then back to Gabriel. He gave Gabriel a small smile, his eyes thoughtful. Meade wrote almost as fast as Montague spoke. "I see that Alexandria's plan was successful and our friend Baylor here has kept you from her s.h.i.+p. Had you planned to board it or take her from the sh.o.r.e?"

"I planned to board it."

"A more dramatic move, but what then?" Montague flicked an imaginary piece of lint from his pants.

"I planned to go to Iceland with her, help her track clues there, and hopefully, though I have personal doubts, find her parents. Then I planned to take her to London and the prince regent."

Montague's head came up, steel gray brows raised. "You would defy the regent's orders for her?"

Gabriel tipped his head to the side. "Something like that."

"I'm sorry, then."

"Sorry?"

"I tried to detain her. I told her you might be trusted and reasoned with. Of course, she wouldn't take the risk, not with your power. She knew the moment you got close enough, she could be forced to give up her search. When I knew I couldn't convince her, I let her make her own plans."

"Tell me about your nephew."

"You saw him, did you?"

Gabriel felt a thunder gathering in his chest. "I did."

Montague sighed. "He's a good fellow. He has a good hand with the sword too, so that should help, though I promised to join them in Iceland as soon as I'm able." A long look of intensity pa.s.sed through his eyes. "He thinks himself in love with her. Of course, so do most men who cross her path, but he's a charming fellow and handsome. She agreed to marry him before they left."

A stone being thrown into his middle couldn't have more impact than those words. Gabriel swallowed and turned his head away to gather himself. "So they're engaged? Not married?"

He held his breath and watched the words appear on the page.

Not married yet. I asked that they wait until I arrive. I wouldn't want to miss the wedding, you know. They agreed as there wasn't time to wed before they left, what with the only s.h.i.+p headed that direction leaving in two days.

"But she is listed on the pa.s.senger list as Alexandria Lemon."

"I suppose they are pretending to be a married couple so she can travel alone with him. I don't like it, but she was determined to lose no time getting to Iceland."

Gabriel remained silent, looking off into the empty fireplace, thinking. What if they didn't wait? He turned back toward Montague. "You approve of the match?"

Montague gave a bark of laughter. "John is my nephew, and you would think I would be ready to dance at their wedding. But"-he shook his head once-"I feel like the father who hasn't met anyone good enough for her. Even John." He rubbed his knees. "And I suspect her heart isn't really in it. Not for John-" he broke off with a humorless chuckle.

Gabriel raised his brows. "For someone else?"

Montague looked right into his soul it seemed. "If you plan to catch her in time, Your Grace, you should hurry."

"Thank you, my friend. Your debt is paid."

MONTAGUE'S WORDS WERE LIKE A haunting chant circling in his head as he rode back to the hotel. Hurry indeed! Gabriel had to find a way to overtake the Achilles. The image of her face when she'd locked gazes with him on the deck of the s.h.i.+p caused a fierce sweetness, a sought torture that burned as if it was branded on his heart. He'd wasted too much time. Montague was right. If he had any chance of talking her out of this marriage, he had to hurry and see that she knew she had alternatives to accomplish her end. That she could have him at her side.

They reached the hotel and dismounted. Gabriel walked over to Meade. "We'll need to purchase a s.h.i.+p. Nothing fancy but something big enough to get us across the Atlantic to Iceland. Something fast. As fast as you can find. Also, hire a crew. Just enough men to handle a small craft but experienced. I mainly want an experienced captain, someone who enjoys a good race perhaps. Hint at an additional reward when we overtake the Achilles, which increases with the less time it takes to reach it."

Meade nodded his understanding, bowed, and turned to go.

"Meade." Gabriel stopped him. "Thank you."

Meade looked down a moment, his face turning red. Then he looked up at Gabriel. "My pleasure, Your Grace."

Now that Montague had inspired hope that Alexandria was not married yet and might care for him . . . nothing would stop Gabriel from telling her how he felt.

After seeing that the horses were taken care of by one of his hired groomsmen, Gabriel hurried inside to his room. He had letters to write, had to make sure the regent knew he was still on Alexandria's trail among other business, and his mother was complaining about his lengthy absence and all of the responsibilities he was neglecting at home. With renewed purpose he started up the grand staircase.

"Your Grace, is that you?"

Gabriel stopped, having nearly run the man down but thinking he'd read him correctly. Sudden recognition slammed into him. Wonderful. Just what I need.

It was the soldier he'd left cooling his heels in Beal, the little village just outside of Holy Island, on a feigned mission of holding down the fort while the little troop, himself and Meade included, searched for the missing Lady Featherstone. It had been a ruse to rid himself of the captain and his men, and it had worked, up until now. It seemed the captain had tracked him down. What was the little man's name?

"Captain . . . so . . . good to see you. Have you found Lady Featherstone and tracked me down to tell me of it?" He watched the man's lips very carefully. Without Meade's presence, traversing the speaking world was a very different matter, and he hadn't wanted the captain to ever know of his inability to hear. When last he'd seen the man, his hearing had been coming back. Now to reveal such a weakness was unthinkable. As annoying and incompetent as the short man was, he did have the prince regent's orders and Gabriel needed to be able to fool him again.

"You know I haven't found her." Gabriel thought he said with a sinking feeling. He continued but Gabriel only caught a few words here and there, words like regent and trouble and disobeyed.

As he spoke the room began to fill with red-coated soldiers. More soldiers than they'd been traveling with to Holy Island to fetch Alexandria. Many, many more.

Gabriel quickly deduced the situation without the benefit of hearing it explained to him. The captain had gone back to the prince regent at some point and been ordered, with reinforcements, to track Gabriel down. He gazed around at the soldiers' faces. A few stared him square in the eyes with a c.o.c.kiness that spoke volumes. They were enjoying seeing him being taken down a notch.

Since he couldn't make out much of what the captain said, Gabriel tried to stall for time, interrupting the man with a wave of his arm and a steely look. "Captain, I have pressing matters to attend to at the moment. When my secretary returns, we will meet in the hotel's drawing room and discuss this. I must bid you good day."

He started to move around the man toward the stairs but felt a hand grasp his shoulder and then another on his arm, pulling him hard in the other direction. If he could only hear what was going on! He tried to turn and wrench free and then came face-to-face with the captain holding a pistol in his face.

"What is the meaning of this?" Gabriel roared. "Unhand me this instant!"

But they didn't unhand him. They beat him and twisted him and tied his hands together behind his back. The captain stared into his eyes, sure victory and the enjoyment of someone being humiliated and harmed glowing from his beady little eyes. "You can't hear me, can you?" his lips overly enunciated. He laughed.

They hauled him upright and half carried, half pushed him to the awaiting carriage. He was thrown inside, the door slamming shut. "Meade!" he yelled, hoping someone would connect the scene with the duke and tell Meade what happened when he returned.

Alexandria! he silently screamed, the crus.h.i.+ng weight of defeat making his heart dissolve into frantic hopelessness. G.o.d, where are You in all of this?

How would he stop her from marrying now?

Chapter Five.

The Achilles fought against the winds, beating to windward as it sailed around the coast of Iceland edging closer and closer to its jagged sh.o.r.e, the sails stiff and flat against the constant needle-sharp gale.

Alex hugged her red cloak around her, pulling the hood low over her eyes and peering from under it at the thras.h.i.+ng of the waves. Her heart pounded as she gazed at the edges of the land coming in and out of the foggy haze, revealing sloping black mountains with white-tipped rock faces.

They were almost there. After twenty days of close quarters and dodging moments of intimacy with her fiance, Alex felt both a sigh of relief and a stab of homesickness. This sh.o.r.e they were nearing, this mist and its lonely feel, made her think of Holy Island and all she left behind. It seemed like so long ago that she'd begun this journey. Was she even the same person?

No. She was certain she was not.

She clasped her gloved hands together and leaned over them, seeing the vapor of her breath add to the spray of the sea. I need Your light to guide my way. I need Your light to guide my way. She repeated the simple phrase over and over, knowing that G.o.d's love was holding her up, that this mission was hopeless without Him, and that with Him and His light guiding the way, anything was possible. Even finding her parents alive.

A hand on her shoulder made her turn around.

"Is everything all right?"

She nodded at John, wis.h.i.+ng for just a few more minutes alone with her thoughts and prayers. He was never far away, but of course they were in the close quarters of a s.h.i.+p and as her fiance, it was to be expected. Why did it feel so . . . smothering?

"I'm fine." She turned toward the sea. "Look. We are so close."

John came up close behind her, blocking the shrill wind and creating a s.p.a.ce of warmth. He leaned his head into the side of hers and whispered into her ear, "Are you excited? We may find your parents here."

The thought of it never failed to send a jolt of hope blazing through her. "Yes. I pray it is so." Her voice caught on the wind and winged away. She wasn't sure he even heard her, but it didn't seem to matter as he drew a big breath and wrapped his hands around her waist, clasping them against her stomach.

She closed her eyes, floating in the moment and stopping all her plotting and planning, enjoying the presence of his chest against her back and the wind song blowing her hair against the hood of her red cape, feeling warm and ensconced in the whirlwind of an adventure.

It felt right. She was right not to give up.

She imagined sailing around the world like this, with John at her back to protect her and keep her buoyed against life's gale winds and her love holding him up. They could do that-together-couldn't they? She couldn't imagine anything better.

The duke's face, her guardian duke, rose up from behind her closed eyes. As jolting as the sharp wind, she saw his piercing green eyes. Like the screeching cry of an eagle, she saw him snap his head around and stare into her eyes, impaled, caught in a spell she'd never encountered before. Fear and then determination filled her as she stood up to it, met it with the sky blue of her gaze turned to blue topaz.

Emeralds and topaz.

Alexandria looked at John and saw gold-such a golden man. He would hold her and carry her and help her. He would be the setting for her light blue stone, allowing it to glitter and s.h.i.+ne. He would support her against the blows of life while her guardian would glitter brighter than her. If Gabriel and she came together, they would have to make G.o.d their setting. Her breath caught with the thought.

"Look!" He leaned over her left shoulder and pointed toward the gray-cast shadows in the waves. "Do you see it?"

Alex strained toward where his finger pointed and then inhaled. A whale. She'd never seen a whale before. She watched transfixed as it crested like the moon over the horizon in an elegant arc of sooty skin, s.h.i.+ny and oily, rubbery and firm at the same time. Its back arched and then its tail came up and over the edges of the deep, a grand show that made her press her gloved hands against her face. Oh! The beauty and grace. She blinked hard as the fluke slapped against the surface of the water, creating a big splash. Everyone around them oohed and aahed, two little girls and a boy squealing with excitement as the whale dove back under the water.

Clapping and cheering ensued among the pa.s.sengers around them. Alex turned a happy face toward John. "That was amazing. Have you ever seen anything like it?"

He shook his head, his eyes lighting on hers. "I've never seen anything like it." His voice was low and deep. He looked into her eyes, his lips so close. The depth of his sentiment touched her in a melting-limb, slow-encompa.s.sing way, making her blink and want to turn away.

Gold could be exciting.

She smiled up at him in the midst of the salt spray . . . thinking how cold emeralds were and how distantly enchanting.

ALEX DISEMBARKED IN REYKJAVIK AS if in a dream. Stunning. That was all she could think to describe this strange and beautiful land. Where Ireland had been so green with shades of gray and blue and browns, Iceland was even more otherworldly in its stark contrasts of vibrant colors. The sea had turned an icy blue closer to sh.o.r.e, the land green with shades of yellow and rich orange, the mountains surrounding the little village of Reykjavik darkly silver with white streaks of snowy creva.s.ses, all surrounded by a warm mist that swelled with the taint of metals and fish and salt and ice. The land of volcanoes, they'd said in rumors and whispers aboard the s.h.i.+p.

The land of fire and ice.

A feeling of purpose and adventure filled her veins in a thick, throbbing pulse as Alex lifted her single bag and carried it across the dock to the street that led into the village. She stopped and let her gaze sweep over the little town. It was small compared to Dublin and felt more like home on Holy Island. The street led to a row of hodgepodge buildings on either side made from stone and turf. As they walked into town she saw that there were shops and warehouses and a rectangular white cathedral, its tall tower seeming to look over the town and lending grace to the homey feel.

"Tiny little place," John murmured as he pulled his hat lower to s.h.i.+eld his face from the constant, bracing wind.

"Let's go there first." Alex pointed to what appeared to be a public house.

They walked through the doors and were greeted by the sounds of someone crying, wailing really. John and Alex exchanged looks and walked toward the sound at the back of the large room.