you wish, Emmaline.” Gabe was not about to make anything more uncomfortable for her.
Their lovemaking that night was bittersweet, slow and filled with emotion, as if both of them realised how fragile it could be to love each other.
The words ‘With my body I thee worship’ repeated in Gabe’s mind as his eyes drank in her beauty and his fingers memorised the feel of her. He wanted to erase the tension between them that her aunt’s arrival had caused. He wanted to convince her with his body that he needed her in his life.
They reached the pinnacle of pleasure in a slow climb this night, but finally writhed together in its acute glory. No night-time sharing of confidences this time. They merely held each other in silence.
Perhaps in the morning, with the hope of dawn, he could make love to her again and bare his soul to her as they lay next to each other in tangled linens.
Gabe drifted off into disturbed dreams. He was a child again, cast out of doors, alone in a storm, no one near to hear his calls, no one to shelter him. Lightning flashed in his dream and its clap of thunder jarred him awake, his heart pounding.
The sound came again.
Emmaline sat up. The sound repeated. It was not thunder, but something hitting the window, which was open only a crack.
“Someone is out there.” She scrambled out of the bed, a sheet wrapped around her.
She lifted the sash and looked out the window.
“Maman!” a voice called in a loud whisper. “Maman!”
“Mon Dieu,” she cried. “It is Claude.” She grabbed her nightdress and put it on. “My son is here.”
Emmaline dashed out, not even bothering to put on a robe. She ran down the stairs, threw open the front door and hugged her only child, who now stood a head taller than she.
He lifted her off her feet and crossed the threshold. “Maman!” He spoke in French. “I am here.”
Her feet touched the floor again and she stepped back to look at him. In the unlit room she could see little more than a shadow, a shadow that looked so much like her late husband that it made her gasp.
“Let me light a candle so I can see you.” She pulled him further into the room. “Why are you here? Have you come home to me?”
“No, Maman.” It seemed as if his voice had deepened the few months he’d been away. “You must tell no one, but the army is nearby. Close enough for me to come see you. I cannot stay long. I must return before dawn.”
She lit a taper from the dying coals in the kitchen stove and moved around the room lighting candles. “Do you need food? Something to drink?”
“Whatever is quickly prepared.” He sank down on her sofa.
In the light she could see his hair, as dark as her own, pulled back in a queue. His face had matured a bit, even to the point of a thin moustache above his lip. He did, indeed, look as Remy must have looked in his youth. Claude wore the blue coat of his uniform with the gray overalls that the soldiers wore to keep their white trousers clean. He would have been able to slip through the streets unseen.
“Do not light too many candles,” he told her. “No one must know I am here.”
She blew out the one she’d just lit. “I’ll bring you some wine.” There was wine left in the bottle she and Gabriel had shared. She poured it into a glass for Claude and brought it to him.
Gabriel! She had forgotten. She hoped he did not show himself.
He drank half of it quickly. “Thank you, Maman.”
She sat opposite him and reached out to touch his face. “I’ll prepare your food, but please tell me first if you are well. Tell me why you are so close by.”
He took another sip. “I cannot tell you why we are close by, but I am very well. They have allowed me to join the cavalry, Maman. I am a cuirassier. That is a great privilege.”
Claude had loved horses from the time he could toddle across a room. When they had travelled with his father, Claude was happiest riding with his father on his horse. Poor Coco, the mare, had been lost to them after Badajoz, another heartbreak for Claude.
Here in Brussels, Emmaline could never afford to keep a horse, but Claude had befriended Mr Engles, who ran a stables nearby. Claude performed whatever chores the man would give him, anything to be with the horses. Eventually Mr Engles began to pay him and Claude saved every franc until he could purchase a horse of his own. Named Coco. Claude rode Coco away to Napoleon’s army, and most likely having Coco was why Claude was allowed to join the cuirassiers.
“I am not surprised.” She smiled at her son. “You probably ride better than most of them.”
Would being in the cavalry keep him safer than the infantry? She prayed it was so.
He finished the wine. “They are veterans of the war and I have learned much from them.”
Learned how to fight and kill, she thought. But had they taught him how to face men wanting to kill him?
She took his glass and stood. “I will bring you more. And some food.”
He rose and followed her to the kitchen, but suddenly froze. “What is this, Maman?”
She glanced over her shoulder and saw him pointing to Gabriel’s red coat, hanging over the chair.
“An English soldier’s coat?” His voice cracked. He gaped at her in disbelief. After a moment his face flushed with colour. “You have an English soldier here?” He looked around, as if the man would step out from behind a curtain.
“Claude, I can explain—”
“Where is he? In your bed?” His voice squeaked again.
Before she could say another word, he dashed to the stairs and leaped up them four at a time.
She ran after him. “Claude. Wait!”
“Show yourself,” Claude shouted in French. “Show yourself, you dog.”
From the bottom of the stairs, Emmaline glimpsed Gabriel in his shirt and trousers, standing in the doorway of her bedchamber. Claude charged him and they disappeared into the room. As she hurried up the stairs she heard something crash to the floor.
“I’ll kill you!” Claude yelled.
Emmaline reached the doorway. From the light of a candle Gabriel must have lit, she could see Claude trying to strike him and Gabriel, larger and stronger, holding him off.
“I’ll kill you!” Claude cried again, his arms flailing. He sounded like a wounded child.
“Stop it, Claude.” She tried to pull him away from Gabriel. “Someone will hear
