Page 35 of Wedded to the Deviant Duke (Duke Wars #2)
CHAPTER 35
“I ’m here!”
Thalia wasn’t sure when the words had escaped her lips, wasn’t sure when she’d revealed herself for Giles to see. All she knew was that the pistol had vanished from sight, that Gabriel had grown quiet and she simply couldn’t wait any longer. “I—I’m here, Giles.”
Both men froze, looking as if she’d just dumped cold water across their backs. Gabriel’s expression was one of abject horror while Giles looked… bemused. Thalia swallowed the growing lump in her throat; she hadn’t expected such a reaction from her cousin.
“You’re… here?” Giles glanced around, as if the very idea were novel to him. “Why, yes sweet Thalia; we can all see that.”
She clenched her fists, arms trembling terribly at her side. “No, I… I’m here, Giles. I’ve…” her eyes briefly met Gabriel’s, his gaze narrowing as he caught up with her plan.
“Don’t.”
Thalia shook her head, taking another step forward. “I’m here, Giles, to accept your offer.”
Giles blinked, looking genuinely taken aback. He exchanged a glance with Gabriel, piston still pointed at his head, before turning his attention back to Thalia. “You… accept?”
“Your offer,” Thalia repeated. “Yes, Giles. Your offer of marriage; I accept that, here and now, in front of this witness here.” She held her gaze on Gabriel for a moment, forcing every ounce of cold detachment she could into her voice. “We’re done. He’s finished with me; this was our last night together, as our contract stipulated.”
Giles blinked, visibly still processing her words.
“A contract, Giles!” Her voice jumped an octave, and Thalia forced herself to use that anguish to her advantage. “You were right; Gabriel Harding is nothing more than a deviant. He had me trapped in a five-day contract, and—and today was the last day!” She forced a smile across her face, pushed desperate relief into her words, and held her hands outward. “Everything—everything was his doing. You were right; I should have accepted your offer from the start.”
A coppery tang filled her mouth; Thalia wanted nothing more than to throw up.
“I… I’m sorry.”
She tilted her head down, trying to look meek, defeated, done with the world and in desperate need of rescue. For a long, terrible moment, she was certain it hadn’t worked.
That Giles hadn’t been so gullible, that he was simply adjusting the aim of his pistol to kill Gabriel in the most painful way possible. And then, much to her horror, a pair of wiry arms curled around her body, constricting her tightly like a snake with its prey.
“No, no! Thalia, my love, don’t apologize!” There was entirely too much pleasure in Giles’ tone, and he embraced her tighter than before. “It’s not your fault; how could I ever expect you to stand up to such a terrifying bully?” He loosened his grasp, only to grab her chin and forcefully drag it to meet his eyes.
Wide, deranged, and cold; truly, like the deepest depths of winter. “All is forgiven, my dear. We’ll start anew—somewhere far, far away. I hear the German countryside is pleasant this time of year; we’ll figure it out, you and me!”
“You and me,” Thalia repeated, forcing her gaze to remain. “Of course; it was always meant to be you and me.”
Giles, a brief moment of clarity returning to his expression. “A shame it had to come to this, Thalia. I had hoped to give you the life you so fully deserved, but I suppose a fresh start will be best for our relationship.”
“Of course,” Thalia agreed, her hand slipping around his shoulder. “I agree, wholeheartedly. And Gabriel can go back and tell them all about us, as our witness.”
“Our witness…”
Her hand stretched too far, fingers just grasping the pistol’s handle when Giles suddenly came to. He saw her eyes flicker behind him, and as he spun around, Thalia watched Gabriel Harding become enveloped in a blinding flash of light.
* * *
The world went silent for the first time in Gabriel’s life. Something hard slammed into him like a ton of bricks, knocking him briefly off-balance before he took Giles Tilbury straight to the ground. For a moment, all he could hear was the ringing between his ears, the numbing buzz flooding from his shoulder as he pinned Giles to the ground. He lay beneath him, disoriented, cringing at what terrible pain was to come.
Yes. It was going to be painful. Unbelievably, mind-shatteringly painful. Every ounce of fear he inflicted onto Thalia would be delivered tonight—he would do far worse than sprain his wrist, make him wish Gabriel Harding had taken his life, there and then.
He would walk the streets as a reminder, with the constant fear of something horrible looming over his shoulder. Constantly hunted, constantly in fear; just as someone like Giles Tilbury deserved.
“–briel!”
Gabriel blinked, every sense rushing back in a burning agony. His ears rang horribly, the scent of gunpowder fresh in the air and practically choking. He blinked again, bright lights from the pistol’s flash still partially blinding him, until a pair of soft, trembling hands grabbed against his shoulders.
“Gabriel!”
Thalia—her hair had come undone at some point, black curls slick against her sweating, tear-stained face. She shook him—he was being shaken, yes—her pretty lilac dress torn and dirtied, stained along the bodice in bright, crimson blood.
Instinct completely took over. Suddenly, Gabriel was up on his feet, watching as Giles slithered back into the shadows of the forest. Suddenly, Thalia was in his arms, and he was running back to the garden party, back to people who could help her. Help her—she’d been shot. She’d been hurt, and it was all his fault. The world buzzed aimlessly around him as Gabriel put another foot in front of him, stumbling across the stream as his foot caught against the bank.
Thalia.
He curled his arms tightly, catching the brunt of the fall as they tore through the underbrush. As the sky opened up and a dozen or so faces loomed over him, expressions a blur of silent screams and fuzzy outlines. Thalia—he tried to reach out, tried to grasp for her, only to find one of his arms wouldn’t cooperate. The other did, though, and he pushed himself up, pushed people off of him, pushed through the blooming ache in his shoulder as he tried to find her.
“Gabriel, stop!”
There—there she was. Her face came back into focus, flushed and dirty and sweat-stained and—God, she’d been brave. She’d been so brave, and he’d let her get shot.
“Gabriel, please don’t move.”
Don’t move? No; he had to go find Giles. He had to make sure that man never darkened Thalia’s doorstep.
“Gabriel, you’re going to bleed out!”
Bleed out. The words felt empty in his swimming head, and Gabriel suddenly found himself lying across the ground, once more staring at the sky. Again–again, he tried to move his arm, only getting that terrible ache in his shoulder as a response. Someone tore his shirt open—something silver and in pieces scattered across his vision—someone pressed their hands against his aching, aching shoulder.
Bleed… out. Don’t… move?
“Ah,” he sighed, as if solving a particularly tricky problem. “I was the one shot. Th-Thank God.”
Unconsciousness claimed him soon after.
* * *
Not a single noise ever got past Gabriel Harding. The chatter among ladies whenever he approached them on the streets, the subtle exhale when, instead of confrontation, he walked straight past them.
The man was cursed with superb hearing, unexplained even after all these years by physicians. Overall, it was considered a non-problem; over time, it actually became quite the useful skill. That was, until the day Gabriel Harding was shot.
Consciousness was a slippery thing, especially when he wanted nothing more than to grasp it. He’d occasionally wake to Charlotte’s red and blotchy face, to a doctor inspecting the burning ache in his shoulder, or to Thalia, gently spoon-feeding whatever soup he could manage.
Thalia.
He wanted her to say something—anything—but all that left her mouth was a high-pitched ringing. It was ever-present, constantly at his heel and tearing at the inside of his mind. He could only escape it in his dreams, and after a while, that was all anything felt like; a dream. At times, he wondered if he’d already passed on, occasionally greeted by the sight of his father, delicately turning through the thick, scribbled pages of Pride and Prejudice .
He’d open his mouth to speak. And there would only be ringing in its place.
* * *
Thalia’s eyes fluttered open, back stiff from arching over Gabriel’s bed for another night. She rose with a grimace, stretching her arms toward the ceiling as a tumbling breeze caught against her face. Her attention shifted toward the window, curtains tumbling from the springtime air, and she stood, hesitating, body still faintly twinging even now, after so many weeks had passed. She used the frame of Gabriel’s bed to maneuver across, eventually finding a rhythm to her steps before crossing the room on her own.
Another breeze caught her face, bringing with it the overwhelming scent of flowers. Every square inch of available surface within Gabriel’s room had been decorated in a number of bouquets, accompanying cards stacked neatly atop his writing desk. Save one, slightly out of line from the others, and Thalia’s hand gently moved to fix it, her gaze lingering on a small cloth covered in broken bits and parts of an old, silver pocket watch. She sighed lightly, folding the cloth over said pieces; it still hurt to think about what could have been, had that watch not been in his pocket.
She eventually made it to the window and latched it shut, feeling the room was plenty aired out. A sudden chill overtook her, and Thalia stiffly moved towards a coat jacket draped gingerly over the armrest of a chair, mud and blood stains having long-since been washed from the fabric.
She wrapped the jacket around her shoulders, inhaling the faint scent of earth, of smoke, of all the parts that made Gabriel up. “I think I’ve finally fixed it up,” she began softly, attention turning back to the bed as Gabriel quietly slept.
Thalia moved back towards the bedside, abandoning the chair and simply taking a seat along the side. “It’s not very well-done, I’m afraid. Madeline helped, but I wanted to do most of it myself.” She sighed, lifting her hand as it trembled faintly. “I still… dream about it, sometimes. Him, his arms around me, squeezing like barbed wire…” She paused, wiping a stray tear as her attention turned to him.
His expression was peaceful, cuts and bruises having long since faded from his face. And maybe, for a moment, she could have pretended it had all been some terrible dream. At least, until her eyes caught the cast securing his shoulder in place.
“He’s not entirely sure you’ll hear again.” Thalia paused, chuckling bitterly to herself as more tears fell. “The doctor, I mean. Honestly, I’d be happy if you just stayed awake for a few minutes longer.” She inhaled sharply, a sob escaping her lips. “I hate that th-the last thing you heard were those—those things, I said to him. About being forced to stay at your side, about Giles being my one and only.”
Thalia’s breath hitched, trembling hands taking Gabriel’s as they lay atop the blanket. “I can’t tell you that those were lies. Some foolish attempt to try and help you.” More sobbing laughter escaped, and she loosened one of her hands to try and wipe her face free. “Gracious—a-at least you would have the decency to propose properly to me. He never once did; man didn’t a have a r-romantic bone in his twisted body.”
She watched as Gabriel’s chest rose and fell beneath the blanket. Gently, she leaned across, brushing a wet kiss across his forehead. “You caught me, love. Now and always; you’ll always catch this little rabbit.”
A slight groan escaped Gabriel’s chest, and she felt her hand receive a gentle squeeze back. His mouth began to move, and Thalia’s breath hitched as she leaned in close, desperate to hear him. Suddenly, she broke down into weeping tears, arms grasping his torso as she threw herself across him, grabbing at whatever part she could.
“Th-Thalia?!” Footsteps followed soon after as the door flew open, Charlotte flanked by a handful of others all desperate to see what had caused such a distressing sound. A few men—Christian, Mr. Beaumont, Robin—-all swarmed around Thalia, gingerly lifting her off the now-groaning Gabriel as they helped to sit him upright.
“Thalia! You can’t just–” Christian’s voice stumbled to a halt, staring at a rather fierce glare from his now fully-conscious friend. “G-Gabriel?!”
Gabriel made a grimacing face.
“O-Oh–it’s too loud.” Sobbing laughter escaped Thalia’s throat, and she quickly covered her mouth, desperately trying to soften herself. “I—he’s alright, it—there’s too many people. Charlotte!”
“Doctor, yes! Going to get him now!” Charlotte quickly slipped past the crowd, helping pull them back out as Robin helped usher away any stragglers. Thalia moved to walk with Christian, only to feel Gabriel’s hand tighten around hers.
“Oh… oh, of course.” Thalia glanced Christian’s way, who simply nodded. He turned to leave, but stopped, doubling back and kneeling in front of Thalia.
“How’d you know he was awake this time?” Christian asked.
Thalia managed a wobbling smile, gently pressing her wet cheeks against Gabriel’s hand. “He replied to me.”
“With what?”
Thalia’s smile brightened considerably. “‘I know’.”