After six days, Gabriel began to take meals with the family. Not only did he have to eat, he’d discovered a latent but robust appetite for fine cuisine prepared by a talented chef. Some things, perhaps, werenotbetter in the forest—foie gras, just to name one of them. Properly baked bread, for another. Beef Wellington, glazed potatoes, poached eggs with fried herbs, the list seemed endless.
On the first night in the dining room, he’d worried that Lady Ryan would somehow feel responsible for him. He could survive scraping his knife against the porcelain or drinking from the wrong goblet, but he would not allow himself to rely on her to smooth over gaffes.
He didn’t want to catch her eye across the table, reassuring him; nor see her gesturing to a footman to bring him clean linen. This had been their dynamic on that first day at Mayapple. He’d burst onto the stoop and she’d managed the intrusion by requesting the outdoor tea and making pleasant chatter.
In the end, he’d worried for nothing. His first meal in Mayapple had come and gone without incident, and Lady Ryan had scarcely regarded him. She’d beenseated next to his sister’s old friend Marie, the nun who’d delivered Elise from France when she exiled. Marie was fierce and resourceful and was working to locate a priest who would agree to marry them within the fortnight. She was also the namesake of his eldest niece. Ryan and Sister Marie had been immersed in their own conversation while Gabriel was engaged with Killian’s nephew, Bartholomew. The youth was eager and curious and almost completely without guile, and he’d launched himself at Gabriel with a litany of questions—French philosophy; Roman artifacts in the forest; the best spurs—and the meal had been a blur of delicious food and stimulating conversation.
On the whole, Gabriel’s time at Mayapple was nothing like he’d expected. He was very raw and primitive—it was impossible to deny—but no one seemed to care, least of all Gabriel himself. When a dinner party was planned for a classmate of Bartholomew’s and the classmate’s family, no one cared that Gabriel elected not to attend.
He’d not yet reckoned with his sister; but not for fear of disappointing her. His regard for Elise was fueled by a deep mine of emotion that he wanted—at the moment—to keep tightly sealed. It felt reckless and unnecessary to open it, and he would not rush it.
Finally, everyone regarded the in-name-only marriage to Ryan as an excellent plan, and they all agreed to go along with it. No one seemed to blame them for getting married only to live apart. They spent their days rehearsing the testimony they would give the solicitor and crafting the story of their courtship so all of it sounded legitimate. Reckoning with Mauricewas a constant source of speculation and debate, but they did not expect Gabriel to do more than what he’d agreed to do. No one felt he owed Ryan a life debt.
He quickly found that family meals were the easiest time to engage with her because there was no temptation to also touch her. Given half the chance—given a secluded library or an empty passage—hewouldfind a way to put his hands on her, and then his mouth, and he existed in a suspended sort of agony for what he really wanted to do to her.
In fact, the more she avoided his gaze, and ignored him at dinner, and occupied herself elsewhere around the estate, the more he wanted her—which was remarkable, considering his preexisting level of want. Gabriel went about his day with an underlying current of desire that roiled and bubbled like a fever. He was nevernotaware of her. He knew the rhythm of her footfalls, the sound of her laughter, the smell of her. He knew her favorite phrases, her Channel Islands accent, the way she tapped her knuckles against her lips when she thought. He knew that, given the choice between the shade or the sun, she drifted toward the sun. He wanted all of her, all the time.
The tears she’d shed in the library haunted him still, but he knew there were many painful levels of unfairness to holding her and kissing her only to send her away in the end. The pain of playing both sides was no mystery. Hell, the duality of it made him want to cry, too.
The only solution he saw was to keep away. He did not range far from the stables; instead, he watched her from afar. He allowed her to write the story of their faux courtship, and their first meeting, and thereason he would not return to Guernsey with her. When they strategized about convincing the solicitor of their marriage, he made certain at least three others were present. On the rare occasions he encountered Ryan alone, he fled. It was cowardly and rude but better than the alternative. If they did not interact, he would not upset her. If he wasn’t alone with her, he would not touch her.
By far, his favorite part of visiting Mayapple had been the burgeoning relationship he had with his nieces. If the reunion with Elise was gradual, and his avoidance of Ryan was a daily test, his interactions with Marie and Sofie and Baby Noelle came very easily and were a genuine delight. He’d developed a love and affection for the girls so suddenly and unexpectedly; and it brought him such joy, he allowed himself to embrace it without caution. They laughed, they said clever things, they adored him, and he simply basked in it. It didn’t hurt that the two older girls were largely untended by their so-called nanny. Gabriel had only ever glimpsed the woman on one occasion, when she was being chased from the garden by a bee. As a result, the girls flitted in and out of the stables at will. They were omnipresent and he loved it.
A week after Gabriel had made Ryan cry in the library, the girls sought him out to play a game of hide-and-seek. As with all of their games, this one involved less playing and more arbitrary rule following. His eldest niece, Marie, managed playtime like a general at battle, telling everyone where to stand (or in this case, where to hide), and what to say, or how they should best enjoy themselves. As it turned out, hide-and-seekwas always played in pairs (for safety’s sake), out of doors (so as to not disrupt Nanny), and with no fully closed hatches or doors (because of that time Sofie had been locked in the hayloft).
Today, Marie was partnered with her cousin Bartholomew. Gabriel’s partner was not named until the moment he was instructed to crawl beneath a wagon and hide beside her.
“And now you will hidehere, Uncle Gabriel,” lectured Marie, pulling open the door to the carriage house and pointing to the hay beneath a parked wagon. “Take care that your boots do not poke out the end of the wagon because Sofie will see them immediately.”
“And what of me finding my own hiding place, Marie?” Gabriel inquired.
“Oh no, Uncle Gabriel, I must know where everyone is, in case you are never found. Remember the hayloft.”
“And who is my partner?” Gabriel asked, dropping to his knees, grabbing the slats of the wagon, and swinging dutifully underneath.
“Lady Ryan, of course,” exclaimed Marie, bending over to supervise Gabriel’s position beneath the carriage.
“Wait...” Gabriel rasped—but it was too late. Ryan rolled from the shadows and blinked at him. She was lying on her side beneath the wagon, head propped on her fist.
Gabriel startled, nearly bumping his head. Ryan cocked a brow, idly picking straw from her hair. Gabriel’s heart began to thud. He tried to reverse, but—
“No, no, no, Uncle Gabriel,” scolded Marie, swatting the sole of his boot with a stick. “You must keep hidden. Sofie has already begun to count and she can only count to ten.”
“Best just to submit, mate,” suggested Bartholomew sagely from beside the wagon.
“Nowweshall hide beneath the steps to the house!” proclaimed Marie. Her stick landed on the ground with atapand tiny shoes retreated. The carriage door creaked and the daylight dimmed to a narrow crack. Marie and Bartholomew were gone and Gabriel was alone beneath a parked wagon with his soon-to-be wife.
“Hello,” Ryan said to him.
Gabriel frowned at her. His nieces were sunny little balms for the soul, but they were bossy. He needn’t—
“I find,” said Ryan, “that if you comply for the first five minutes, she’ll soon be distracted by the next flight of fancy and you may go about your business.”
He removed his hat and dropped it in the hay.
“Or perhaps you cannot abide the underside of the wagon for five minutes,” she said. “With me.”
“Did you tell her we should hide together?” he asked.
