“No. We were ordered to hold the farm at all costs.”
“So, you were following orders.”
He looked at her as if seeing her for the first time. “Yes, I was following orders.”
“Whose orders were you following?”
“General Sir James McDonell. He was holding the gate.”
“And while he was holding the gate, he said you and your men were to defend the right wall.”
“Hold the flank at the right. Don’t let the French break through. Whoever wins the farm, wins the war.”
“And that is what you did. Because you followed orders. That’s what you do in a war. You were an excellent captain. You held the farm. You won the war. Whoever wins the farm, wins the war, you said. Well, you won the war.”
“Carnage does not adequately describe what happened there.” Gabriel looked blindly at the ceiling, as if reliving the scene.
He buried his head in her lap, and Birdie held him as he wept. She felt such sorrow for the man who felt responsible for the deaths of so many. Hot tears rolled down her cheeks.
It was getting cold. The candle tapered out. Birdie’s legs cramped, and she shifted around uncomfortably on the hard floorboards.
Gabriel got up, took a blanket from the bed, wrapped her in it, and lifted her onto the bed. Then he re-lit the fire in the fireplace.
Shadows flitted over the wall, and the wind howled over the tower. Despite the eeriness of the place, Birdie felt safe with him.
He knelt by the bed and dug his face into her lap. “Stay with me tonight.” His words were muffled in the blanket.
She lifted his face in her hands and looked straight into his troubled dark eye. Without thinking, she reached out and touched the side of his face.
She pulled his face toward her.
She felt the hard bumps and ridges of the scars under her fingers. Her fingers moved to his patch. He did nothing to prevent her from lifting it.
His eyelid was closed. The lashes melted into the skin. Nothing terrible at all. An eye that was forevermore sleeping. That was all.
Without thinking, she pressed her lips to it.
Goodness, it shot through her. How she loved this man. She’d realised it when she saw him with Tommy on his lap. A warm tenderness had flooded through her, combined with a feeling of pride and a fierce joy like nothing she’d ever experienced before. She knew that, despite his demons, he was a man worthy of loving. If only he would let her.
“Yes,” she whispered. “I will stay with you tonight.”
Chapter 17
The next day, the children didn’t come.
Birdie did not notice until much later because she’d spent the entire day in her own dreamworld, with a vapid smile on her face.
He’d told her so much more, in the darkness of his room. He’d bared his soul to her. All the shadows, the terrors, the terrible images that had haunted him, that had kept him imprisoned. By finally allowing her in, she could help him carry his burden. She knew such a task was precious beyond words.
He’d also told her other things. Sweet things that he’d whispered, endearments that she’d never heard or read about before. Caresses that left her shivering with delight.
She’d left him sleeping in the morning, and there had been a peaceful look on his face; the kind that little children have when they have fallen into a deep, healing sleep.
It was a sunny day, and Birdie worked in the kitchen garden, pulling out weeds.
She held a handful of purple flowers in her hands, remembering the timid offer Gabriel had given her after their first quarrel. She’d pressed those flowers between sheets in her books to keep as a memento.
Birdie lifted her face to the sun.
