“Maybe, but Gabe’s not one to lay himself open to a woman—he’s always been careful. He’s kept himself protected, ever since he was a boy and his bitch of a mother dumped him.”
“His mother dumped him?”
He nodded. “Used him as a pawn in the games she played with our father. Kept him locked upstairs in that house you’ve been staying in, hidden away, as if he didn’t exist. Seven years he was up there and never once saw his father or the other brothers, or their country home, not for Christmas or Easter or anything. And he was legitimate.”
He paused to negotiate a narrow passage between a stationary wagon and a pile of boxes. “The old lady, Great-aunt Gert took him away and his mother didn’t care in the least. Never even visited him. He never saw her again.”
Callie was horrified. It was worse than being orphaned.
“He told me about Great-aunt Gert. She sounds like a wonderful lady.”
Harry snorted. “She was all right, but she was nobody’s idea of a mother, either. Treated both of us like the dogs she bred. Tough, strict, and very demanding. A right old tartar she was; fair, but not the sort to give a little boy a hug.”
“So who gave Gabriel hugs?” Callie asked, her heart moved by the thought of the little boy whose mother didn’t want him.
“Nobody,” Harry said.
“You must both have been very lonely,” she said, stroking her son’s hair as he slept.
“I was all right. Mrs. Barrow took me in as her own, but though she was fond of Gabe, she never dared to treat him as her own. Great-aunt Gert wouldn’t have had it. ’Twas all right for the cook to cuddle an orphaned bastard like me occasionally, but mollycoddle a legitimate son of the house of Renfrew? Not in her lifetime.”
“Then I shall just have to make up for all the hugs he missed out on,” Callie said. “If he’ll let me, that is.” She watched dawn rising over London. She and Nicky would have to return to Zindaria soon. She hoped it wouldn’t be alone.
But she didn’t feel at all sure of that. First she had to tell her husband that she loved him.
Then she had to find out if he loved her at all.
And then if he would give up everything he had for her.
It was too much to ask, she knew. But she had no choice.
And at the very least, she was going to have one more night with him. One more night of love.
The household was still awake when they got back. Nobody had been able to sleep for worrying. Everyone piled into the drawing room and once again, Nicky described his kidnapping and escape, and everyone exclaimed and expressed amazement and horror in equal amounts.
Callie sat wearily, watching her son in his hour of glory. She’d had no sleep and was exhausted and, despite her relief and joy in her son’s triumph, she was also dispirited. Gabriel hadn’t said a word to her. He hadn’t even looked at her since she’d promised the captain she would return to Zindaria.
He’d positioned himself at the far side of the room, saying nothing, just watching. Whenever she looked at him he was looking elsewhere, at Nicky, at Rafe or Nash—anywhere except at her. She could see part of his face in the looking glass hung on the far wall. She shifted her position until she could see his whole face and his expression.
He was watching her, she saw. If she turned her head, he looked away, but the moment she turned away from him he was watching her again.
He watched her sadly, hungrily, as if gazing at something he couldn’t have, some fond memory.
Callie sighed. Harry was right. Gabriel seemed to believe her love was conditional on his having prevented Nicky’s kidnapping. The dear, foolish man. She would put him right on that. Right after she told him she loved him.
Nothing ventured, nothing gained.
“Come along, Nicky,” she said, rising. “It’s time you went to bed. Time we all got some sleep.”
Nicky’s face fell. “But, Mama, it’s morning. The sun is up.”
“No argument, my love. You’ve had a big adventure but even heroes need some sleep.”
“Yes, Mama,” the hero of the hour said dolefully.
Gabe took himself out onto the terrace with a brandy. Everyone else had gone off to bed. He was too depressed to sleep.
A few moments later he jumped as his wife’s soft arms slid around his waist. She hugged him hard. “Thank you,” she said.
