Post by Chelliet on Nov 8, 2008 2:36:59 GMT -5
Chapter Six
Marcus lounged in his study, a snifter of brandy held in one hand while he stared at the flames in his hearth. He took his time, lifting the glass for a sip before glancing over toward the chair in front of his desk.
“You are absolutely sure that what you have said this night is true?” he said casually, swirling the alcohol within the crystal glass lazily. The man in the chair nodded.
“I saw it with my own eyes, this I swear,” he said, his voice much deeper than Marcus’, smooth like caramel and at odds with his short frame. It was Marcus’ turn to nod then, taking another sip of brandy. The two men were silent for a long time, the fire popping mutely in the background.
“Should I—”
“No,” Marcus said quickly, interrupting the other man before he set his brandy down on a side table. “They knew well enough this would happen. Your orders still stand. Keep me informed if anything else should take place on your watch.”
The other man nodded without protest and rose from the chair in a liquid movement, leaving the room without another word. Marcus continued to stare at the fire, the flames reflected against his dark eyes as his expression remained unchanged.
The prophecy had begun and there was much to do before it came to fruition.
Outside, the other man paused at the bottom of the front steps, looking up toward the sky as if expecting something. When nothing came, he walked away at a brisk pace, his shoes echoing slightly against the quiet of the evening until he reached the outstretched arms of an oak tree, the circle beneath it black with shadow. Then the footsteps stopped abruptly and the man disappeared.
* * * * * *
“Breathe, Rachelle, breathe,” Gabriel pleaded as he held her in his lap, one hand set against her throat to feel for a pulse. When he found one, he breathed a Thank God under his breath and eased her down until she lay flat on the ground before bending over her, his ear held close to her lips.
Swearing, he gently tilted her head up, keeping it steady with one hand while he bent over her again, intent on breathing for her.
“Don’t you even think about it,” a man ordered from behind him just before Gabriel felt the cool slide of metal against his neck. “You just leave that lady alone or I’ll make sure ya regret it the rest of yer life.” Gabriel froze and took an incredibly calm breath…right before he kicked back, slamming his foot into the man’s leg. There was a grunt of pain even as Gabriel felt the blade at his throat bite for an instant, but he was already standing and twisting, pushing at the other man with little mercy. With a single swing of Gabriel’s fist, the knife went flying and the man held his arms up in a sign of surrender.
“She’s not breathing and I don’t have time for heroes. Leave or help but the next time you put a blade to my throat, I will kill you,” Gabriel said in a deadly voice, his hand wrapped around the man’s throat while he held him in place with a fistful of his coat.
The man nodded emphatically and Gabriel let him go, going immediately back to Rachelle and repositioning her head which had fallen to the side. He felt his chest constrict at how pale she was, her lips nearly blue, but he set his mouth against hers and breathed out.
Dear god in heaven her lips were cold.
Taking another breath, he repeated the process three more times before he paused, checking her pulse while he watched for any signs of life.
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, what happened? I never should ‘ave let her go walkin’ by herself,” the man said, moving to the other side of Rachelle and kneeling down though Gabriel noticed it was with some degree of difficulty. The man had his hat in his hands and he was currently wringing the life out of it as he look down at Rachelle with overwhelming concern.
“Breathe,” Gabriel ordered, taking another deep breath and filling her lungs with it. Another three more times did he breathe for her before stopping again. It seemed to go on forever. Four breaths, pause. Four breaths, pause. Gabriel forgot completely about the other man, forgot everything but the woman he would have done anything to protect. And yet still she remained limp and unresponsive.
Desperation made his hands shake but it was grief that had him shaking her.
“Come on, damn it, breathe!” he choked out, picking her up and cradling her against his chest. Her head fell forward heavily so that her face sat against his throat.
Gabriel closed his eyes for a moment, holding her tightly as he turned his face into her curls. They smelled of ripe apples and cinnamon and he whispered against her ear so quietly he could barely hear himself.
“Do not leave me too.”
Loosening his hold, he made to lay her back down when he felt a sharp sting from the cut at his throat. The movements had pulled her face across his neck and his blood stained her lips and part of her cheek as a result. He would have wiped it away immediately, but it was in that moment that she gasped, her spine arching up as if her body couldn’t get air in fast enough, followed instantly by a fit of coughing.
The darkness had been almost comforting. It was cold, but it was quiet and soft and she felt like she was floating; floating away from her body, from life. All the pain from moments before, both the physical and emotional, was gone and she wanted to embrace that. It had been so long since she was truly at peace and though she knew the darkness held worse things for her, right now it felt quite nice. For what seemed like hours, she let herself drift, unable to see or hear or feel anything but this cool darkness.
Of a sudden she tasted blood, coppery and sharp, and she imagined herself touching her lips. Wetness greeted her and she licked her lips in unconscious reaction.
In an instant, the darkness was swept away in a whirlwind and she was hurtled back into her body so quickly she wondered if the descent back to life wouldn’t just kill her again.
Everything hurt and at first all Rachelle could see was blurry darkness, all she could hear was the pounding of her own heart in her head, and all she could smell was the crisp, spicy scent of a man’s cologne. Someone was holding her tightly and she clung to them, feeling very much like she were riding Sir Hughes’ famed wild stallion as she gasped for air.
“Oh Lord, it’s a miracle!” she heard from her left. Turning her head, she saw Brian kneeling on the ground, wringing his hat and looking ready to nearly pass out, his cheeks shiny with what looked suspiciously like tears.
“What—” she started, only to dissolve into more coughing. The arms holding her tightened and she looked up. Gabriel’s face filled her vision and she had to blink several times, her mind suddenly racing, replaying everything that had happened inside the book shop.
Mr. Ramsey…the chest of books…the attack…Gabriel…
Oh God…
Her next cough was nearly a sob and Gabriel would have cursed if he’d had the breath. This had been too close. Way too close.
Without a word, he picked her up, holding her against his chest.
“Thank you, my lord, thank you. You saved her,” Brian said, in awe a little of Gabriel it seemed. He rose too, favoring one leg quite heavily, and Gabriel nodded in acknowledgment.
“We need to get her safe,” Gabriel said. Brian nodded instantly.
“O’ course. Got the carriage jest over here. I’ll be sendin’ for Dr. White as soon—”
“No,” Gabriel interrupted though he was already moving toward the carriage. “A doctor won’t be able to help her, but I know someone who can.” Brian’s eyes widened a little, but he nodded and moved to the horses.
“Wait.” Brian stopped and turned toward Rachelle, but Gabriel didn’t, though he did glance down at her. He thought she looked incredibly fragile, like bone china. One wrong step and she would shatter to pieces. And she sounded like death warmed over.
With a nod from Gabriel, Brian climbed up onto the driver’s seat while Gabriel swept them both into the carriage, despite Rachelle’s weak but continued protests.
“Really, Gabriel, is this necessary?” she asked, feeling her cheeks heat as he settled her on his lap inside the carriage. This was certainly not appropriate, not one bit, but he didn’t seem inclined to let her even sit on her own.
“Yes,” he said simply, looking out the windows carefully before pulling the curtains and swamping them both in darkness just as the thing lurched forward and headed down the lane. Rachelle glared at him for all the good it would do. He was acting quite brutish at the moment and she was sure he was angry. The muscles in his jaw were tight and he wasn’t smiling. Those green eyes of his that she remembered so well held not a single thread of laughter or mischief and they were currently as hard as diamonds.
And yet she couldn’t help but feel safe, which didn’t make any sense to her at all. She’d just been attacked and something terrible that she couldn’t explain had happened to her.
She shivered, feeling cold from her bones out. Gabriel shifted, pulling off his jacket – not an easy feat in the small space – and wrapped her in it. The warmth of it cocooned her almost instantly and she all but snuggled into it, letting the scent of clean soap and Gabriel flavor every breath.
Her relaxed sigh was the best thanks he’d ever received and he continued to hold her silently, still convincing himself she was alive and breathing, albeit a bit worse for wear. He closed his eyes for a moment, running through the battle and its aftermath in his head. He should have seen the signs, should have kept her safe even if she frustrated him beyond his limits. He should have—
Something touched his face and he jerked up, startled. Rachelle was staring at him, her hand lifted and barely touching against his jaw.
“I am sorry for hitting you,” she whispered, her hand dropping back into her lap but Gabriel caught it first. His palm was warm and hard; completely different from the hands of the other men she’d known, including her brothers who liked to boast about their time spent in the stables with their horses. Suddenly exhausted, she let her head rest against Gabriel’s shoulder.
“Why did you hit me?” he asked. When she didn’t answer, he tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear and twisted his neck to look at her. “Rachelle?”
She was sleeping.
With a wry expression and a quiet sigh, he leaned back a little and let her rest for the remainder of the carriage ride.
Marcus lounged in his study, a snifter of brandy held in one hand while he stared at the flames in his hearth. He took his time, lifting the glass for a sip before glancing over toward the chair in front of his desk.
“You are absolutely sure that what you have said this night is true?” he said casually, swirling the alcohol within the crystal glass lazily. The man in the chair nodded.
“I saw it with my own eyes, this I swear,” he said, his voice much deeper than Marcus’, smooth like caramel and at odds with his short frame. It was Marcus’ turn to nod then, taking another sip of brandy. The two men were silent for a long time, the fire popping mutely in the background.
“Should I—”
“No,” Marcus said quickly, interrupting the other man before he set his brandy down on a side table. “They knew well enough this would happen. Your orders still stand. Keep me informed if anything else should take place on your watch.”
The other man nodded without protest and rose from the chair in a liquid movement, leaving the room without another word. Marcus continued to stare at the fire, the flames reflected against his dark eyes as his expression remained unchanged.
The prophecy had begun and there was much to do before it came to fruition.
Outside, the other man paused at the bottom of the front steps, looking up toward the sky as if expecting something. When nothing came, he walked away at a brisk pace, his shoes echoing slightly against the quiet of the evening until he reached the outstretched arms of an oak tree, the circle beneath it black with shadow. Then the footsteps stopped abruptly and the man disappeared.
* * * * * *
“Breathe, Rachelle, breathe,” Gabriel pleaded as he held her in his lap, one hand set against her throat to feel for a pulse. When he found one, he breathed a Thank God under his breath and eased her down until she lay flat on the ground before bending over her, his ear held close to her lips.
Swearing, he gently tilted her head up, keeping it steady with one hand while he bent over her again, intent on breathing for her.
“Don’t you even think about it,” a man ordered from behind him just before Gabriel felt the cool slide of metal against his neck. “You just leave that lady alone or I’ll make sure ya regret it the rest of yer life.” Gabriel froze and took an incredibly calm breath…right before he kicked back, slamming his foot into the man’s leg. There was a grunt of pain even as Gabriel felt the blade at his throat bite for an instant, but he was already standing and twisting, pushing at the other man with little mercy. With a single swing of Gabriel’s fist, the knife went flying and the man held his arms up in a sign of surrender.
“She’s not breathing and I don’t have time for heroes. Leave or help but the next time you put a blade to my throat, I will kill you,” Gabriel said in a deadly voice, his hand wrapped around the man’s throat while he held him in place with a fistful of his coat.
The man nodded emphatically and Gabriel let him go, going immediately back to Rachelle and repositioning her head which had fallen to the side. He felt his chest constrict at how pale she was, her lips nearly blue, but he set his mouth against hers and breathed out.
Dear god in heaven her lips were cold.
Taking another breath, he repeated the process three more times before he paused, checking her pulse while he watched for any signs of life.
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, what happened? I never should ‘ave let her go walkin’ by herself,” the man said, moving to the other side of Rachelle and kneeling down though Gabriel noticed it was with some degree of difficulty. The man had his hat in his hands and he was currently wringing the life out of it as he look down at Rachelle with overwhelming concern.
“Breathe,” Gabriel ordered, taking another deep breath and filling her lungs with it. Another three more times did he breathe for her before stopping again. It seemed to go on forever. Four breaths, pause. Four breaths, pause. Gabriel forgot completely about the other man, forgot everything but the woman he would have done anything to protect. And yet still she remained limp and unresponsive.
Desperation made his hands shake but it was grief that had him shaking her.
“Come on, damn it, breathe!” he choked out, picking her up and cradling her against his chest. Her head fell forward heavily so that her face sat against his throat.
Gabriel closed his eyes for a moment, holding her tightly as he turned his face into her curls. They smelled of ripe apples and cinnamon and he whispered against her ear so quietly he could barely hear himself.
“Do not leave me too.”
Loosening his hold, he made to lay her back down when he felt a sharp sting from the cut at his throat. The movements had pulled her face across his neck and his blood stained her lips and part of her cheek as a result. He would have wiped it away immediately, but it was in that moment that she gasped, her spine arching up as if her body couldn’t get air in fast enough, followed instantly by a fit of coughing.
The darkness had been almost comforting. It was cold, but it was quiet and soft and she felt like she was floating; floating away from her body, from life. All the pain from moments before, both the physical and emotional, was gone and she wanted to embrace that. It had been so long since she was truly at peace and though she knew the darkness held worse things for her, right now it felt quite nice. For what seemed like hours, she let herself drift, unable to see or hear or feel anything but this cool darkness.
Of a sudden she tasted blood, coppery and sharp, and she imagined herself touching her lips. Wetness greeted her and she licked her lips in unconscious reaction.
In an instant, the darkness was swept away in a whirlwind and she was hurtled back into her body so quickly she wondered if the descent back to life wouldn’t just kill her again.
Everything hurt and at first all Rachelle could see was blurry darkness, all she could hear was the pounding of her own heart in her head, and all she could smell was the crisp, spicy scent of a man’s cologne. Someone was holding her tightly and she clung to them, feeling very much like she were riding Sir Hughes’ famed wild stallion as she gasped for air.
“Oh Lord, it’s a miracle!” she heard from her left. Turning her head, she saw Brian kneeling on the ground, wringing his hat and looking ready to nearly pass out, his cheeks shiny with what looked suspiciously like tears.
“What—” she started, only to dissolve into more coughing. The arms holding her tightened and she looked up. Gabriel’s face filled her vision and she had to blink several times, her mind suddenly racing, replaying everything that had happened inside the book shop.
Mr. Ramsey…the chest of books…the attack…Gabriel…
Oh God…
Her next cough was nearly a sob and Gabriel would have cursed if he’d had the breath. This had been too close. Way too close.
Without a word, he picked her up, holding her against his chest.
“Thank you, my lord, thank you. You saved her,” Brian said, in awe a little of Gabriel it seemed. He rose too, favoring one leg quite heavily, and Gabriel nodded in acknowledgment.
“We need to get her safe,” Gabriel said. Brian nodded instantly.
“O’ course. Got the carriage jest over here. I’ll be sendin’ for Dr. White as soon—”
“No,” Gabriel interrupted though he was already moving toward the carriage. “A doctor won’t be able to help her, but I know someone who can.” Brian’s eyes widened a little, but he nodded and moved to the horses.
“Wait.” Brian stopped and turned toward Rachelle, but Gabriel didn’t, though he did glance down at her. He thought she looked incredibly fragile, like bone china. One wrong step and she would shatter to pieces. And she sounded like death warmed over.
With a nod from Gabriel, Brian climbed up onto the driver’s seat while Gabriel swept them both into the carriage, despite Rachelle’s weak but continued protests.
“Really, Gabriel, is this necessary?” she asked, feeling her cheeks heat as he settled her on his lap inside the carriage. This was certainly not appropriate, not one bit, but he didn’t seem inclined to let her even sit on her own.
“Yes,” he said simply, looking out the windows carefully before pulling the curtains and swamping them both in darkness just as the thing lurched forward and headed down the lane. Rachelle glared at him for all the good it would do. He was acting quite brutish at the moment and she was sure he was angry. The muscles in his jaw were tight and he wasn’t smiling. Those green eyes of his that she remembered so well held not a single thread of laughter or mischief and they were currently as hard as diamonds.
And yet she couldn’t help but feel safe, which didn’t make any sense to her at all. She’d just been attacked and something terrible that she couldn’t explain had happened to her.
She shivered, feeling cold from her bones out. Gabriel shifted, pulling off his jacket – not an easy feat in the small space – and wrapped her in it. The warmth of it cocooned her almost instantly and she all but snuggled into it, letting the scent of clean soap and Gabriel flavor every breath.
Her relaxed sigh was the best thanks he’d ever received and he continued to hold her silently, still convincing himself she was alive and breathing, albeit a bit worse for wear. He closed his eyes for a moment, running through the battle and its aftermath in his head. He should have seen the signs, should have kept her safe even if she frustrated him beyond his limits. He should have—
Something touched his face and he jerked up, startled. Rachelle was staring at him, her hand lifted and barely touching against his jaw.
“I am sorry for hitting you,” she whispered, her hand dropping back into her lap but Gabriel caught it first. His palm was warm and hard; completely different from the hands of the other men she’d known, including her brothers who liked to boast about their time spent in the stables with their horses. Suddenly exhausted, she let her head rest against Gabriel’s shoulder.
“Why did you hit me?” he asked. When she didn’t answer, he tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear and twisted his neck to look at her. “Rachelle?”
She was sleeping.
With a wry expression and a quiet sigh, he leaned back a little and let her rest for the remainder of the carriage ride.