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—
She slept. Even if she hadn’t been weary to the core, she would have slept. She’d never felt so boneless with pleasure, never felt so absolutely grateful she was alive and her body could still feel that pleasure.
With Ramsey. She should hate him. She should have slapped him, not kissed him. There would be time to slap him later. Time later to forgive, though she knew she had already forgiven him for the most part. He had made mistakes, but he’d done what he felt he needed to do. Who was she to judge when she’d done the same?
And so she’d slept and dreamed of his hands on her, his mouth on her. The dream was so pleasurable she didn’t want to wake when he shook her. She could have slept for days, but Ramsey was insistent. The masculine smell of him and the simmering arousal from the dream made her drag him down for a kiss. She wanted him to fill her again, wanted to feel his body slide against hers.
But he broke away from her, and she opened her eyes in confusion. He was dressed, his hair brushed back from his face, his expression serious. “We’ll be in London soon. We’re in the Thames.”
She sat and pushed her hair back—phantom hair, since her hand caught nothing but a thin wisp that brushed her neck. “So quickly?”
“The captain says the wind was in our favor. It doesn’t hurt that we slept most of the day and night. You should dress and come on deck. I’ll help you.”
He did, his hands as impersonal as her maid’s when he did up the fastenings of the old dress she’d found amid the captain’s stash of assorted garments. When he’d finished and she’d managed to shove her feet into a pair of slippers at least two sizes too small, she looked up to see him watching her.
“Why?” he asked, his gaze flicking to the berth. “Why didn’t you let me protect you?”
She knew what he meant. Why had she risked the possibility of a child when he would have spilled his seed safely on the bedclothes?
She stood. “Because I want all of you,” she said. “The good and the bad.”
“And damn the consequences.”
“Exactly.”
His mouth curved into a smile that managed to look both arrogant and sad. “It’s time to pay the consequences. It won’t be long before I’m arrested.”
He moved toward the door, and she caught his sleeve. “I’ll fight for you. I’ll go to the king, do all I can—“
“No.” He swung to face her, meet her gaze directly. “I want you far away from this sordid business. I don’t want your name sullied. If things were different I’d—“He broke off. “I can’t help you. I can’t clear your debts or save you from creditors, but I sure as hell won’t hurt you.”
“It’s the least I can do after you saved me from the guillotine.”
“No. If you want to repay me, stay out of it. Promise me, Gabrielle. Promise me you will not interfere.”
“How can I make that promise?” She held her hands out, imploring him. “You must know that ever since the kiss in the Exeters’ greenhouse I’ve been—“
His hand came up between them. “Don’t say it. If you care about me at all, Gabrielle, stay out of this. It’s time I did something on my own—my own name, my own sins, my own penance.” He laid his hand on her shoulder. “Promise me.”
Feeling as though she were weighed down by a sack of bricks, she nodded. “I promise.”
She followed him on deck, watching in wonder as they sailed up the Thames and into London. The river was as polluted and crowded as ever, but she couldn’t stop smiling. She was home. She was free. What bliss to live in a country where law, not terror, ruled the land.
It must have taken hours to complete all the steps necessary to finally disembark, but when Gabrielle stepped onto British soil again, all the rest of it faded.
All except the night she’d spent with Ramsey and that nightmare ride on the tumbrel.
Ramsey had been holding her hand, but now he moved her hand to his elbow, a more appropriate location. They had no luggage and no coin, no means to return home. She was about to ask him what they should do next when she spotted Sir Andrew Ffoulkes.
“Sir Andrew!” she called, although he was already making his way toward her.
He inclined his head and squeezed past the last of a group of sailors to bow before her. “Lady McCullough. Lord Sedgwick. Welcome home.”
“Thank you,” Gabrielle said, and squeezed Ramsey’s arm.
“Lady McCullough, I am certain you are eager to return home. You as well, my lord, but if you don’t mind, we have a mutual friend who would like to speak to you.” Now he reached into his pocket and withdrew a small white card. “I’m to take you to him.” He flashed the card and Gabrielle saw the small red flower, a scarlet pimpernel, on the other side before Ffoulkes slipped it into his coat again.
“Both of us?” Gabrielle asked.
