Ceisd mo chridhe
Prologue
It was night. The moon hung low and full and the stars shone brightly. Cool winds blew peacefully through the pine trees. It was dark, yes but not peaceful like the lying winds. Across the manor a large white house stood proudly against the black velvet night. Bright lights shone from inside the imposing building illuminating the windows and the porch on which a rocking chair stood. Inside the house was in uproar. Wounded soldiers lay on makeshift benches and tables moaning and crying out for their mothers, some lay strewn across the floor patched up with bandages saturated with blood, others against walls half unconscious, many already dead. Servants scampered in and out of massive rooms carrying bowls of bloodied water. Their aprons once starched white now soiled and bloodied from the day's activities.
"Abigail I need more bandages, and brandy!" A young woman called. Her waist length, wavy, dark brown, hair was twisted haphazardly into a messy bun. Tendrils and whole locks of hair hung about her face in sweaty messy clumps. Her pale pink dress was soiled and messy, blood streaked across her apron, face and neck. Her sweaty chest heaved as her dark blue eyes raked the room searching for anyone who needed care. She would have been beautiful to look at if not for the sweat mud and blood that covered her face, but she didn't care. She never really did bother with her appearance although she was always told that she should. The place was messy, and there were too many soldiers there, all bloodied and soiled, too many cries and shouts of pain for anyone to tell the difference between the dead and wounded in the cluster of battered and bloodied bodies. But she could tell, her focused eyes searched the room picking out the men, cataloging their faces and names looking for a new face one she hadn't helped before. "Nicole, hot water now!" she called spotting a new one.
"Yes madam." The young woman sat by the bedside of the young soldier who met her eyes with a tortured gaze from under heavy lids.
"Am I going to die Miss?" he whispered. She stared at him and stroked his dark hair away from his forehead with a gentle gesture.
"You're going to be fine." She said managing a small grim smile for his sake. Then she looked up, her eyes again cold and focused. "Abigail!" she cried.
"Here Miss." A Negro woman said rushing to her side with fresh bandages and a cup and a bowl of brandy.
"Thank you." She said gratefully. "See to the others." She said softly. "Nicole!" she called.
"Here Miss Cora." The girl said. She couldn't have been more than fifteen, to her mistresses seventeen.
"Thank you dear, go help Abigail."
"Are you sure that you won't be needing any help Miss?" she asked.
"Quite." Came the curt reply for Cora had already turned her attention to the soldier in her care. Quick as lightning she ripped open his shirt with a strength that most women in her class probably wouldn't have possessed. She dipped the bandage in the hot water and started to clean the wound. Her gaze flickered to the soldier's face and she saw that his eyes were closed. "Tell me your name." She said and his eyes flew open.
"Ma'am?" he whispered raggedly.
"Your name." She repeated.
"Conroe. Conroe O'Marshall." He whispered.
"Your rank?" she asked her eyes not leaving his wound and her hands moved steadily as she applied the brandy.
"Don't have one." He winced in pain, and she glanced up at him, her quick stare reassuring him.
"How many battles?"
"Five."
"That's very good. Do you have family?"
"Yes. A wife, her name is Diane. And a son his name is Marcus."
"They would be proud." She said, looking up at him and smiling.
1 Chapter 1: Sanctuary
Cora laid her weary body on her bed. Her body was cleansed and clad in a white linen nightgown. Her hair was in a very lose braid that she didn't bother to secure with a ribbon. Ever since her father had left for battle her days had all been the same. Hundreds of soldiers poured through her doors seeking aid. Many left healed and better for it. Many stayed and helped her. Her father had been a General in the army and she hadn't heard from him in days. She worried for him but in her spent state she couldn't bear to think about anything but sleep. A strange thought for although she was tired, she couldn't rest. Images of tortured men floated around in the back of her mind and beneath her eyelids as she closed her eyes. Sleep, she could not drift off. Not completely, just managing to stay in the clamps of a light siesta. Floating between the realm of the conscious and unconscious. A mindless state, a daze in her state of semi consciousness. She wanted to open her eyes rather than hover in that realm of bogus rest but her heavy eyes lids would not obey her mind's halfhearted command. Instead she floated deeper into her sub consciousness until she was almost asleep. And then she was in a field, a cold, and dry, barren one. A voice filtered out through the haze of mist.
"Cora!" it called it was common yet strange, odd but hauntingly familiar. It was her father's.
"Papa?" she called tentatively.
"Come here girl!" he called. She came to him following his voice. After what seemed like forever she reached him. He embraced her warmly and for on moment she was nine again as she melted into his arms.
"Papa." She whispered, as tears blurred her vision.
"It'll be alright girl." He said.
"I've missed you." She said pulling away.
"And I have missed you." He replied. "But you have to wake up now lass."
"But I want to stay here, with you." She whispered brokenly silent tears coursing down her cheeks.
"So do I." he said. "But he needs you."
"Who?" she asked
"Wake up Cora." He whispered then he vanished into thin air, although his being seemed to hover in the air like a fog. Her eyes snapped open to see Abigail calling her name.
"Madame!" she called harshly.
"Yes." She said, her eyes blinking furiously.
"We found a lone soldier ma'am." She said.
"Where is he?" she asked.
"A stones throw from the Marsill's house." Within seconds Cora was out of her bed grabbing her aid kit, flinging her long, velvet, navy blue, cape about her shoulders as she flew down the staircase and out the door to her horse that was already saddled and waiting. She mounted it and rode hard into the silken night. Her hair fell out of the braid and streamed out behind her like a silken fountain of dark chocolate. Her hood fell back in her haste. Within minutes she was at the Marsill's home she looked around. Her breath puffs of condensed air, fading into the night. Spotting her henchman she rode hard towards him. Upon approaching him she jumped nimbly off of her horse with practiced ease and ran over to him.
"Declan! Where is he?"
"Over there by the tree." He said handing her the lantern. She was gone before he could finish for she had already spotted him.
"I don't know if you can help him, he looks near death to me." Declan said as she collapsed at the young man's side, placing the lantern on the other side of him. She took in his face and saw that he was beautiful, save for the dirt and blood on his face from a cut above his eyebrow: A strong jawbone, and wavy, sandy blonde, hair and an angelic face, pale from loss of blood no doubt, as she saw that his shirt was soaked in it. She ripped it open and gasped at the wound that decorated his flesh: a deep, wide, angry, crimson, slash incised from his ribs down to his lower stomach.
"Oh!" she cried out. She pressed her hand to her mouth trying to contain herself. She closed her eyes and took a couple deep breaths then opened them.
"DECLAN!!" she cried, her soft, deep voice ringing out in the silence.
"Yes ma'am." He said coming to her side. "Holy Mother!" he exclaimed upon seeing the abrasion.
"Declan help me please, I can't carry him by myself!" She cried. The man's eyes fluttered open and gazed at her in bewilderment.
"Declan! Please." She said unable to remove her eyes from the stranger's. She grasped his hands in her own. "Oh God your hands are like ice." She whispered breathing on his hands warming them with her own. He opened his mouth as if to talk but she silenced him with a hand to his mouth. "Shhh, don't talk dear. Save your strength." She said stroking his forehead as his eyes fluttered closed. Declan knelt down next to her and started to pick the man up. The man cried out in agony from his wounds.
"For God sake man, be merciful!" he groaned.
"Be careful with him Declan." Cora said hoisting the man to his feet. She gathered up his things and then helped Declan place him on the horse. She hooked his bags on her horse's saddle and then led him back home with Declan's help, pausing when the pain was too much for the man to handle.
*************
Fire roared in the hearth, crackling, filling the almost frigid room with warmth. Blood dripped from a bandage into a bowl of already red water. Cora watched as it slowly spread out making itself part of the clear liquid, staining it. Her hair had been pulled back and up into a messy low bun. Her hair was in her face again, much like always. She wiped gently at the man's pale flesh, noticing that he had a washboard stomach, and a well- muscled chest. He watched her as she worked. Her hands were firm yet gentle, her expression focused.
"What happened?" she asked. He had been drifting in and out of consciousness, much to her alarm, for he couldn't afford to fall asleep now.
"I was ambushed. My men are dead, I barely got out alive." He stared at her hands. They were small and slender covered in smooth ivory skin.
"I'm surprised that you are alive. A wound this deep." she trailed off as she stared at it. You should be dead. She thought to herself.
"Yes, well, sorry to disappoint you." He said smiling grimly. She glanced up at him and decided to play along.
"You're forgiven." She said. He laughed low and smooth like honey wincing sharply and she glanced up to see a breathtaking smile. His eyes were a warm, honey brown and they sparkled as he smiled. Hints of sexiness danced across his lovely mouth. Dimples creased his cheeks, and it had a mischievous hint to it that made it down right unintentionally seductive. She glanced at his face again and couldn't help but smile a little. "What is your name?" she asked.
"Gabriel. Corporal Gabriel Martin." He said. His voice was deep and smooth and languid. It coated her in the beautiful sound of it. It wrapped around her caressing the air around her easing her mind, relaxing her body. Focus on his wound woman! She scolded herself. His eyelids were fluttering again. He could barely make out what she was saying.
"I'm Cora. Lady Cora De Barbarac." She brushed some hair out of her face and started to clean the wound with brandy. "Are you cold?" she asked upon seeing the goose bumps on his arms. Well what do you think it's cold out and his has no shirt on? She thought to herself.
"Very." He replied. She picked up a cup from the counter and pored him some brandy handing him the cup.
"Would you have said anything if I hadn't asked? Declan help me." She said gesturing to the man to had been sitting silently in the corner. He arose and walked over to them help Gabriel up.
"Well that depends." He said sat up slowly, and with difficulty even with the man's help, grimacing slightly, letting out a harsh cry of pain and took a long drag. "Thank you." He said sincerely to Declan as he laid him back down.
"On what."
"On if you asked." He said with a pained smile as he lay back down flinching, and crying out slightly at the anguish that shot through his body. He stared at her soft features they were refined and beautiful. He watched through heavy lids as the fire flickered in her dark blue eyes and across her face and hair, the light creating a halo of light against her dark tresses. Her voice was soft and small sounding yet strangely deep and commanding, it was mesmerizing. It was soothing, charming and beautiful, just like her. She had an aura of grace, confidence and leadership that surrounded her like a scent. Her eyes were soft and deep, and her hands were warm and supple, yet firm. Cora picked up a needle and grabbed a candle. She stuck the needle in the flame, sterilizing it then she dipped it in the brandy and stuck it back in the fire. His eyes flew open and he glanced down at it with a panicked expression. "What are you doing?" he asked in an alarmed voice trying to sit up barely disguising a scream at the pain that shot through his body once again.
"Be careful!" she cried "You've already lost too much blood." She glared at him. "I'm sterilizing it. You're going to need stitches." She said as she quickly threaded the needle with thick thread "You should get rest." She glanced up at him. "Your body will need the strength in order to heal." She pressed down firmly on his chest silently ordering him to lie back down. He glanced at her and then glared at the needle and then complied. She stuck the needle through his skin and silently made a stitch, then another and another. She paused to brush her hair away from her face and glanced up at him. "Who is your father?"
"Captain Benjamin Martin."
"Truly? I have heard many great things about him."
"So have I."
"My father fought with him in the French and Indian war. Whilst other girls got stories about unicorns and princesses, I got war stories, battle tactics."
"You must have been a very queer girl." He said raggedly. Feeling the fatigue taking him over.
"I was." She said, her hard expression softening. "I had little friends but I didn't care. I had my books and my father." She smiled softly and shook her head. "I lost my mother when I was two, I've seen pictures and heard stories but I don't remember her in any way."
"I lost my mother at twelve, she was my world and I miss her dearly." He said. She glanced up at him upon hearing the melancholy in his voice and saw that he was gazing at the fire. The sparkle in his eyes replaced by a poignant nostalgia. Darkness closed in on his vision as his eyes fluttered shut. "I would rather hear her voice than anything in all the world." He whispered hoarsely. She blinked and returned her attention to his half sewn wound. She had never seen such pain in anyone's eyes before. Silence filled the room. A sad, suffocating silence. She made the last stitch and glanced up at him knotting the thread she leaned over and delicately bit the thread cutting it. Her soft mouth brushed his skin, catching his attention. She stuck the needle in the spool of thread and put it on a small table. He looked at her in almost shock and she found herself looking away. It was so hard to look him in the eye, to face his half naked beauty. Concentrate, he is wounded! She thought to herself.
"I'll need you to sit up in order for me to bandage it." She said, her voice cracking. He sat up slowly, once more with Declan's help propping himself up on his arms grimacing in pain. She grabbed a bandage and started to wrap it around his torso. His body was closer to her's now almost more than she could handle. Stop that! She wrapped it around his body her hands grazing his smooth, tantalizingly warm skin. He could feel her breath like tepid silk against his shoulder. He rolled her name around his mind. Cora he thought A lovely name. It suits her. He couldn't help but stare as she tucked in the bandage, couldn't help but notice how her hands lingered there for a while before moving them. Already his skin missed her touch. She looked at him, staring into his eyes. She could feel her pulse racing at his close proximity. Concentrate! She couldn't look away, his gaze called to her, drawing her in; it was madness what he was making her feel. This had never happened before. No one had ever been able to make her so aware of his or her presence, not like this. Damn you hormones, Cora think! His eyes seemed to look through her, rather than at her as if he were turning her inside out. She didn't know who had leaned in but she was feeling his breath on her face and it hadn't always been like that. Stupid girl, think! He's wounded badly, barely alive! She looked down trying to break the eye contact but instead ended up staring at his mouth. She blinked and turned away, adagio breezes filling her skin with sudden scarlet flush. She arose from the chair leaving Declan and him on the couch and walked over one where a fresh clean linen shirt lay. She picked it up and walking back over to Gabriel handed it to him.
"It belonged to my father, it's probably too big but it'll have to do." She said. Their fingers brushed and she felt sweat pop out onto the back of her hands. The back of my hand can sweat? She thought. Nicole burst into the room
"Madame, do you need any-" she trailed off noticing the compromising position she found her mistress and that handsome stranger in, and the amused look on Declan's face.
"Yes Nicole?" Cora asked turning around, her cheeks burning.
"Need you my help?" Nicole asked. She glanced at Gabriel who stared back at her with an expression of almost embarrassment.
"No thank you dear. I have Declan, and I am already finished." Cora started gathering up her things, unable to look any of them in the eye. "Could you get the Corporal some blankets and a pillow from the guest room, I don't want to move him around too much."
"Yes Madame." Nicole said and she disappeared in search of the blankets and pillow. Cora glanced back once at him, against her better judgment and saw that Declan was helping him slowly, painfully put on the shirt.
"Good night Corporal." She said. His head popped out from the neck hole and he pulled the shirt down over his body.
"Good night Miss." He said then he leaned back gingerly, with the man's help gasping silently. She left the room after Declan, and headed up the stairs to her bedroom to sleep.
Chapter 2 : Between the realms.
Cora's eyes snapped open. It was morning; the sun was shining down on her face. She sat up and climbed out of bed. She washed her face, bathed and started to get dressed. Abigail entered the room with her breakfast.
"Morning Miss." She said setting the tray on a small table in the corner.
"Good morning Amelia, how is the Corporal?"
"Not so good. He got a dire fever during the night, and he was thrashin' 'round in his sleep. Kept a right fine watch over him though. Make sure he didn't break them stitches." She reported lacing up Cora's corset. Cora held on to the bedpost breathing in when Amelia pulled, exhaling when she stopped. Breathing was an art in these damn things. Abigail grabbed a plain, insipid yellow dress from the closet and helped Cora put it on. She sat at her vanity and twirled her long hair into a low, slack, muddled bun, securing it with hairpins.
"I will have to check up on him." She said, arising from her seat and heading down the stairs. She walked into the room, and was shocked at his difference. His skin was ashen, covered with sweat, his eyes were closed his shirt half undone. He was wincing and moaning rolling around slightly. He looked like he was between dying and dead. He looked terrible. She walked quickly to his side and pressed the back of her hand gently against his forehead, shuddering at the intense heat. "I need a bowl of ice water, and rags." She called to Abigail. His condition frightened her. She only hoped that it would pass. A bowl of water with ice cubes floating around the top was placed at her side and some rags were placed in her hand.
"Can you help him Miss?" Abigail asked.
"I will do what I can. Go check on the others." Cora said soaking the rag in the water and then placing it on his forehead. Gabriel flinched and groaned. Something icy was on his forehead. His throat was like the desert his body felt like he was on fire and his body was wrought with pain. His eyes fluttered open and he saw some blurry person wiping his head with something. She picked up a fan from the table and started fanning him, trying to get him as comfortable as possible. She opened his shirt as far as it would go and then taking up another rag and soaking it she wiped his chest and fanned some air there as well. He moaned again and tried to move. "Don't move. You'll aggravate your wound." She said. His feverish mind couldn't make out what she was saying; he struggled, his feeble, heavy limbs trying to move himself away. She pushed his failing arms away, and tried to calm him down.
"Gabriel please, calm down it's alright dear, calm down." She said softly, tying to hide her fear. He couldn't make out her words but her tone was soothing. He moaned again, flashes of agony beating on his tired, heated mind. She took the rag and soaked it again then placed it on his fore head. Then she rewet the rag on his chest and replaced it there. She drizzled water all over his face and neck, stroking his hair gently. He was going to make it. He had come too far to give up now.
*********************
Cora closed the eyes of another soldier and sighed shakily. Already a whole day had passed. Night was approaching. They were dying. She was bending over backwards for these men and they were dying. She wasn't helping; all she was doing was buying them time. She had handed Gabriel over to Abigail hours ago. There were others to help. If only they would stop dying. She fought down tears and went over to another one. He stared at her with fear in his eyes. He was shaking with strain and trying to talk.
"Shhh, save your strength." She whispered.
"P...P.Please Mmm.M.Miss." He managed to get out. "C...C.Can y.you get t...t.this to m..m...y wife n' c.c.children?" he stammered with pain. She looked at his hand and saw a letter. She took it from him and smiled sadly. She saw the desperation in his eyes.
"I swear, they'll get it." She whispered. He smiled grimly, and then stopped shaking. She stared at him, her eyes searching his placid face. She pressed her fingers to his neck to check for a pulse and found none. She closed her eyes and sank to her knees. He was the fifteenth one today. Tears stained her cheeks as she gave into them. Despair and helplessness washed over her. They were dying anyway. She looked up opened her eyes and saw that there were others. She wiped away the visible tears, fought down the rest and saw to another one. She knew that she had promised her father but she didn't know how much more of this she could take. She had been so sure of herself when her father had left. But now she wished that he hadn't made her make that promise. She arose and walked over to another one who needed water.
"Nicole." She called. In a flash the girl was there. Tired and filthy but ready to carry out her mistresses wishes.
"Did you sleep last night dear?" Cora asked concerned.
"No Miss, that man you brought in last night was twitchin' n' screaming in his sleep Miss. He done kept everyone up Miss." She said. Cora took in her disheveled appearance and nodded.
"Get sleep tonight dear." She said. "Could you get him some water?" she asked.
"Yes ma'am." Nicole replied and set off. Cora looked around the room. So many dead on tables and so many who needed to be on tables instead of the floor. She was about to ask Declan to move the corpses out, when Angela came running into the room.
"MISS!!" she cried, out of breath. Cora ran up to her seeing her distress.
"What is it?" Cora asked grasping her shoulder trying to calm her down.
"Soldiers Miss, Red coats, a whole army of them!" she cried. Men around them shot up, eyes flew open. Servants came running into the room. They had all heard the decree. If you harbor the enemy you lose your home and everything else, possibly your head. They could be shot on sight.
"Well how far away are they?!" Cora cried in alarm.
"Far enough for us to do something about these here men, Miss!" she cried. Cora looked around in fear, so many men relied on her so many lives. They were staring at her, men, and servants. She ran outside the door and looked out into the distance. She estimated about seven miles; they had time. She ran back inside and looked around before running into the room where Gabriel and Amelia was. Amelia looked up sharply.
"Red coats are coming, we need to move the soldiers." She cried. Then she ran back out side, pausing briefly. Her body sweaty, her chest heaving, her eyes darted to and fro as she tried to think. Suddenly she sprung into action running over to a section in the wall next to the fireplace. She probed the wall steadily yet frantically trying to find the spot that her father had shown.CLICK! The sound resounded throughout the room. She pulled that part of the wall open. Everyone was looking at her in shock. "Don't stand there gaping, put them down there, now, GO!" She cried harshly. She grabbed a lantern and lighted it to show the way down into the secret room. Then she ran back through the crowd of wounded soldiers being helped into the secret room, and hurried into the room with Gabriel. "Declan! Ian!" she called and the two men ran into the room. "Move the Corporal." She said. "Abigail, help me with my dress, then make sure the others are clean as well." They ran out the room, leaving the two burly men to carry Gabriel. "Nicole get some others to clean the rooms a best you can! Everyone hurry we don't have much time." She ran up the stairs taking them two at a time flying down the hall way and into her room.
"Hurry Abigail, anything, take out anything, just hurry!" she cried as she struggled to untie her dress from behind. As soon as she untied it, she shed it like a skin, and ran over to Abigail who was holding up a dress made of a deep, dark, violet satin and velvet. She slipped it on and brushed her hair frantically while Abigail laced up her dress pulling her hair back with two locks of hair and securing it with a tie. She grabbed a necklace of black ribbon with bells at the end and tied it around her neck then ran down the stairs with Abigail right behind her. She ran through the house, making sure that the job the servants had done was seamless then headed toward the secret room. Her eyes searched the dimly lit room for Gabriel, for in his condition, he was one of her main concerns. She made him out, he was being cared for by Declan. She ran over to them and checked his temperature. He still had a bad fever but it had lessened some. "Keep him wet and fan him." She instructed. Then she ran up the stairs and shut the door, just as a heavy knocking sounded throughout the house, startling the servants who had just finished dressing, and signaling the troops' arrival. Cora walked calmly over to the door, Abigail in tow and opened it.
***************
He had icy blue eyes, dark hair and a hard, yet, supposedly handsome face. He was arrogant, with broad shoulders and a puffed out chest. He was very aware of his position and command. It disgusted her.
"Good evening ladies, I am Cornel Tavington, sorry to disturb you." He had a deep voice with a thick, snobby, English accent.
"It was hardly a disturbance sir, I was merely reading a book." She replied, ever the submissive lady.
"And where do your loyalties lie?" he asked. Not to you and your bloody 'king' that's for sure. She thought fiercely.
"To King and country sir. May I ask why you are here?"
"You may, my troops are tired and need food and rest. I trust we may reside here the night?" he asked, much to her dismay.
"Um, well I..." she blinked and glanced at Abigail.
"Lovely." He said not waiting for her to reply.
"I beg your pardon sir, but I have not answered your question." She said, her temper boiling.
"Yes but any one loyal to the crown, shouldn't need to be asked whether or not the kings army can seek care and rest in their home." He said glowering down at her.
"Then why did you ask?" she said.
"I didn't." he turned to gesture to his troops. They started filing in, pushing roughly past her and filling the house. The cornel made no move to correct this he simply followed them in. "This is a lovely home." He commented, looking around. One of the soldiers flung his rifle off of his shoulder and it swung carelessly around startling Nicole, who barely kept down her scream of astonishment.
"Please put that thing away, I can assure you that you won't be needing it here." Cora said harshly, he leaned it against the wall. "I beg your pardon Cornel," she said turning her attention to Tavington. " But I oppose this strongly. You cannot just."
"Just what?" he asked, knowing full well that he could. Cora stared at him wanting to stop him, knowing that she couldn't.
"You would leave in the morning?"
"Yes." He replied as if she were a fool for making him repeat himself. She glared at the floor, knowing that she couldn't glare at him and closed the door, glancing at Abigail who shot her a warning glare. She had seen Cora's temper, she had seen it many times, and it was not something to be directed to a renowned Cornel in the British army.
"I will see to your rooms." Cora said and headed up the stairs, wondering all the while how she was going to check on Gabriel if these Red coats were in the house. She trembled at the thought of what they would do to him, and then pushed it away. She tended to the rooms with Abigail, Nicole and Tiffany, the fear for Gabriel keeping her going. Finally at about eight they were done, the soldiers went up and to bed and the house was eerily quiet. Soft winds blew through open windows; the moon shone softly granting blissful sleep to the inhabitants of the house. Cora however could not sleep. Thoughts of Gabriel's cold lifeless corpse filled her mind until she couldn't bear it. She climbed out of bed, and walked out of her room. Clad only in her nightgown and nightcap, and lit candelabra in hand, she made her way stealthily down the stairs knowing where they would creak and avoiding the spots. She ran as quickly and quietly down the hallway as she could, pausing only to make sure that no one was following her. If anyone knew the sounds of the house it was she. Every night she would lay in bed and listen to the sounds it made. She knew how that wind blew through the house, how the air felt, and could tell if anyone was behind or next to her. Sensing nothing, she ran her hands along the wall, finding the spot and pressing it gently. The click sounded and the wall opened. She waited, checking, wary for the sakes of the wounded soldiers in her care. Hearing nothing she slipped through the narrow opening closing the 'door' behind her, and crept down the stairs.
***********
Gabriel's eyes opened. His squinted eyes searched the dimly lit room. He noticed that his eyes didn't hurt as much. He slowly took in his surroundings. Gray stonewalls, encased a fairly large room. Tables were placed around the dirt ground. Lit candelabra's decorated the walls and he could see men laid on tables and on the ground. His head felt better, clearer, and his body didn't feel completely overwhelmed with pain. He didn't recognize this room, didn't know how he had gotten here. Where was Cora? Where was he? He felt a wet rag along his forehead and he saw a man Declan wasn't it? He thought.
"Where am I?" Gabriel whispered raggedly. Declan looked down at him.
"Oh thank the lord your up sir! Miss would have surely had my hide sir." Declan said looking down at him.
"Where am I?" Gabriel asked again.
"Your still in Miss Cora's house, secret room, there were red coats while you were asleep. Sounds like they be setting up to stay for awhile." Footsteps along the ceiling caught their attention. Gabriel tensed noticeably and Declan grabbed his rifle. A click sounded through out the room, and everyone looked up. A pause then footsteps coming down the stairs, the door closing and then more footsteps. Gabriel stared in fear at the staircase and relaxed when he saw that it was only Cora. His eyes closed and he sighed. Cora walked up to Gabriel and placed down her candelabra. She pressed her hand against his fore head.
"Oh thank heavens. The fever is practically gone." She whispered. His eyes opened, to see her gazing down at him, concerned.
"Were are the soldiers?"
"They're camping here for the night. The nerve of that man Tavington."
"Colonel Tavington?" Gabriel asked, suddenly very awake.
"Yes, why?" she asked. Fury, anger, hate all at once flashed across Gabriel's features. The cold fury in his eyes alarmed her.
"That bastard." he whispered angrily, a sound Cora hoped would never be directed to her. Before they could stop him he was struggling to sit up, pushing up on his arms, wincing in pain, crying out slightly in agony. She snapped out of her trance, seeing what he was doing. All eyes turned to them.
"Corporal please!" she cried trying to hold him down.
"Sir calm down!" Declan said, helping her.
"Do NOT tell me to 'calm down'!" Gabriel bit out angrily, slowly in a low dangerous voice.
"Why?" Declan asked fighting him down.
"LEAVE ME!!" he cried struggling to push him away.
"Shut him up will you! We'll be spotted!" cried Ian, form the other side of the room.
"Corporal don't, you'll break the stitches." Cora begged.
"Damn the stitches, he killed my brother cold bloodedly, burned my home, destroyed my life."
"Corporal you are in no condition to-" she struggled with him.
"I can fight-"
"Yes you would fight bravely and die just as quickly, who then would avenge your brother?" she said harshly. He glared at her and then obliged. He closed his eyes and tried to control his breathing, when the pain caught up with him and a near scream sounded from his lips. Cora's hand stifled his cry of agony. He pushed her away. "Don't be angry with me Corporal." She whispered,
"You don't know anything." He whispered.
"And how do you know that? The same Colonel who killed your brother killed my best and only friend, the sister I never had."
"Thomas was trying to save me."
"And she was trying to protect her mother, who was killed anyway." He looked at her with tears in his eyes. " There will be a time for revenge, but until then stay the course. I know that you want satisfaction, so do I; anyone would but look at you Gabriel. You can barely stand; going out there would only get you killed. And for what? For whom? Not for your brother, surely. It would serve no purpose to challenge Tavington now. I barely even know you, yet I know that you have more sense than that." She stared him in the eye, momentarily forgetting who she was. She blinked and looked down, shaking her head. He closed his eyes and looked away from her. She started to check to see if he had broken any stitches, only a few, not too many. Thank god she thought. How could he even think about putting himself into danger like that? She thought as she threaded a needle and started re-doing his stitches, and especially with an entire station of British soldiers upstairs. She finished and placed down the needle. "I have to go." She said picking up her candelabra and walked back up the stairs. She opened the door and slipped through it closing it behind her. She stood there for a few minutes collecting her thoughts, most of them of Gabriel. She admired his desire to live, and his passion for justice, yet somehow she knew that he knew she was right. Something was wrong in the air. She felt another presence.
"A little late to be up." A voice sounded from the darkness. She gasped and spun around to face Colonel Tavington. "Wouldn't you say Miss?" She blinked stupidly trying to think up an excuse.
"I thought I heard a noise." She said.
"So did I, I didn't realize that it was you." He replied. She moved to get back upstairs to her room but he blocked her. "Is it safe to be here?"
"Sir?"
"Alone, a woman, in the middle of a war?" He clarified. She stared at him, unsure of what he was saying.
"Rebellious soldiers fighting nearby and such."
"Before you they're were no soldiers." She said. He stared at her silently and she stared back.
"Shouldn't a woman be in need of protection?" he asked. "Especially one so young as yourself."
"Oh, well I wouldn't worry about that." She replied. "My father is an expert swordsman and marksman sir he taught me well." Her tone was level, her expression calm. "What can I say, he'd always wanted a boy." There was a little malice in her voice, not much but he seemed to catch on and moved aside. She walked up the stairs and into her bedroom and went back to bed.
Chapter 3: Unexpected refuge
It was around five in the afternoon the next day when Cora finally was able to rest herself. She was dressed in a pale blue dress and was sitting in the rocking chair on the veranda attempting to finish a pillowcase that she had started to embroider a few years ago. As promised Tavington had left with his soldiers on the morrow, but cleaning up the rooms and seeing that the patriot soldiers were removed from the secret room and placed in another at the back of the house and caring for them had taken up the morning and most of the afternoon as well. She hadn't embroidered in a very long time but the skills were slowly coming back to her. It was the only way that she could not think about that imbecile coming into her house and taking over as if he owned the place. The audacity of him. It made her insanely mad. At least by doing this she was able to keep her mind on one thing, focus all her energy on one thing. She was so engrossed with her work that she didn't hear the footsteps.
"Have you eaten Ma'am?" Abigail asked, startling Cora.
"Good heavens Abigail you startled me!" she cried. "And to answer your question no, I have not."
"Well come on, you haven't eaten in days!" Abigail cried. Pulling Cora to her feet and leading her inside. "So caught up with carin' for the wounded, you done gone forget to take care of yourself. Come on now don't be stubborn, I'll fix you up something right quick, and I don't wanna see a crumb left, you understand?" she ordered. Cora smiled and followed her into the house. Looking into the sitting room, she saw Gabriel on the couch reading, his expression soft with concentration. She walked into the kitchen and, pulling out a chair from the corner, sat down at the oak table. She considered his expression, how it was drastically different than the one he had worn the night before. A plate chock-full of steaming vegetables and meat was placed before her. It could barely hold all of the food. Cora looked up at Abigail in alarm. "Not one scrap." Abigail warned, silencing her protests. Cora's shoulders slumped, she pouted and her held out her hand for a fork. Abigail placed one in her hand and Cora began to eat pouting all the while. She put her fork down and looked up at Abigail.
"I couldn't possibly eat all this." Cora said.
"Your problem not mine." was the reply.
"I will burst!"
"Not to worry. I can assure you I do excellent stichwork." Abigail replied with a smile, and Cora rolled her eyes and continued to eat. Noises sounded from the living room. She glanced up to see Gabriel slumped heavily on Abigail as she lugged him into the kitchen.
"I'm seriously not that hungry." he insisted.
"You haven't eaten since you got here. Maybe with some food in your system you'll be able to think straight and you won't pull another stunt like last night." Abigail replied setting him down in the chair. He leaned back heavily with a sigh, and stared at the table.
"You know about that?" he asked
"Oh, Sir everybody knows about that." Abigail replied as she heaped food onto a plate. Gabriel glanced at Cora, who continued eating wordlessly, not even sparing him a glance. A plate full of food was dropped before him. He stared at it for a while and then quirked an eyebrow.
"Is this all for me?" he asked. Cora smiled faintly.
"Well yes, it is it's in front of you in't it?" Abigail replied.
"I can't eat all this!" he protested eyes wide in shock, staring at the platter that was at least half the size of a serving dish and still could barely hold all the food.
"Not only can you but you will, she will see to that." Cora said. He stared at her. "Trust me." He looked back down at the plate.
"Have you eaten Abigail?" he asked.
"Sir it is quite impossible for me to forget my stomach under any circumstances." She replied and then she left the room. Gabriel sighed in defeat and disbelief and looked back down at his plate. There was no way he could possibly eat all of this. He started to eat. It wasn't until the first forkful of food reached his mouth that he realized how hungry he really was. In the next half an hour the plate was virtually empty. Cora sat there mostly done with her's, but picking at it distractedly as if she had lost her interest. He sighed and glanced at her.
"I want to apologize for the way I acted." He said finally, feeling a weight lift from his chest. "I was wrong, not to mention a bit off, and I want to thank you for saving me from myself." Cora blinked and looked at him surprised.
"Um, your welcome, and your forgiven." She said. "And as for you actions they were completely understandable; Imperceptive, but understandable nonetheless." She smiled faintly and looked back down at her plate.
"Thank you." Gabriel replied. "You.my mother used to say that to me."
"What, about you being thick headed?"
"No. Previously, when you said 'there will be a time for revenge, until then stay the course. She would say it every time I picked on my little brother Thomas. So I heard it pretty much every day." He said, still not looking at her.
"I can well imagine." She said looking back down at her plate.
"I'm sorry about your friend." Gabriel said suddenly. Cora looked up surprised and then smiled faintly and nodded.
"How are those stitches holding up?" she asked.
"Very well actually. You do excellent stichwork." He said.
"Yes, I do don't I." She replied, allowing herself some self-appraisal. "When they heal, if of course they are given a chance to do so," she stared at him pointedly, "I believe they won't leave much of a scar."
"I will never live that up will I?" he asked smiling. "But then again I have never known a woman to forget anything."
"You obviously have never met my Aunt Gwen Della-Ann."
"Gwen Della-Ann?" Gabriel asked, his eyebrows shooting up in amusement.
"Don't ask. It's one of the things that she isn't proud of."
"So you trying to tell me that her name was Lady Gwen Della-Ann De Barbarac?" he asked cringing slightly.
"I'm not trying to tell you anything, but yes." She replied.
"Dear God." He murmured. "Well what's your middle name?" he asked suddenly.
"Aislinn-Elizabeth." She replied. "Yours?"
"Theodore." He said flatly, none too pleased. She burst out laughing before she could stop herself, and he glared at her. "Are you laughing at me?" he asked unimpressed.
"Yes." She replied between giggles.
"Thank you for your honesty." He said, his tone dripping with sarcasm.
"Forgive me, it's a fine name. Gabriel Theodore Martin." She said trying to redeem herself at the last minute. He glanced at her, as if to see if she was humoring him or if she was being honest.
"As opposed to Gwen Della-Ann?" he asked.
"Oh, well anything is better than that." She replied regaining her appetite. Gabriel stared at her as she ate.
"I'm sorry about your friend." He said. She stopped immediately. "I know that it must have been very hard." She placed her fork down slowly.
"It's nothing extraordinary. I'm confident that you went through an identical circumstance with your own brother's cessation Corporal." She said keeping her eyes down.
"But to deal with death on a regular basis."
"As do you."
"I get to let some of it out." He said smiling. "You don't." She shrugged.
"I hate feeling like I can't do anything. This helps me deal with the war. I don't feel completely useless." He nodded in understanding.
"Everything is alright between us then?"
"Perfectly alright." She said smiling slightly and looking at him.
*************
3 months later
Cora's eyes flew open and she shot up and smile on her face. She climbed out of bed and rushed to get dressed flinging on a red dress and brushing her hair hurriedly. She snuck down the stairs and flew out the front door, a giddy look on her face. She ran to the stables and over to her horse Ebony. Abigail was at the market with Ian and Gabriel was asleep. The wounded soldiers were being taken care of by Angela, Nicole and Tiffany. She led he horse out of the barn stroking the steed's snout. The horse was jet black and magnificent, being a thorough bred Andalusian.
"I haven't ridden you in so long." She said kissing its nose. "Shall we?" Ebony snorted in delight and Cora grinned, quickly saddling her horse and mounting. She rode off laughing. It felt like it had been ages since she had felt the wind through her hair, and against her face. She rode Ebony all across her father's estate, up over the hills and through the woods like a real wild child. Her soul sang, her spirit soared as she flew across the earth. Finally she headed back towards her home. She trotted up to the stables and jumped off of Ebony. She lead him back into his stall and unsaddled him rustling his mane when she was done. "We are good friends you and I." She whispered. "I'll see you soon." She kissed its neck and turned and headed back to the house. Something hard flew across her cheek, sending her sprawling across the lawn. Her face throbbed and she looked up to see her neighbor. His eyes were wild, his clothes disheveled and he stank of liquor and vomit. But it was the rifle in his hand that terrified her most.
"Damned Red Coat." He murmured angrily. She got to her feet slowly her face even, her eyes wide.
"Mr. Marsill." She said quietly.
"I saw them. We all did." He growled.
"I'm afraid I don't understand." She said trying to keep her voice calm. She started to back up slowly away from him.
"DON'T MOVE DAMMIT!!" he screamed and she jumped involuntarily. The barrel of the gun swung up to her face. "The Red coats you helped. We saw them at your house. Killed my family they did. Every single damn one of you deserves to die."
"Sir?"
"You heard me!"
"You can't possibly think that I had anything to do with that John. You know how much I enjoyed Dyane's company."
"LIAR!!" he bellowed. Cora panicked. Her mind raced trying to find a way to reason with him. She tried to talk but all she could see was the gun aimed at her. Your little innocent games might work on others but they won't work on me. You gonna get what you deserve."
"Sir you cannot be serious, I-"
"You damned right I'm serious!" The gun slammed into her chest sending her staggering back.
"Mr. Marsill, please-" she tried. It couldn't be happening. This couldn't be the way she was to die.
"Shut up!" he shrieked. His hand trembled, her heart raced. Who could help her? Gabriel, he was better wasn't he? He was also very much asleep. She fought down her tears and tried to calm herself down enough to think. The gun was aimed, the trigger.. She couldn't watch. She shut her eyes and her body tensed as she clenched her tiny fists. A gunshot sounded and she screamed. Opening her eyes she saw that she wasn't hurt but the spot a few feet away from her feet was smoking. Looking up she saw John holding his wrist, his rifle on the ground, and a rock not to far away from him.
"That is enough!" a voice bellowed. She cried out as John grabbed her arm roughly, yanking her around pulling her against him hard. He grabbed a knife from his boot and leveled it to her throat. Gabriel with rifle aimed and in hand gradually descended the veranda stairs. " A word from the wise," He said slowly, his eyes flashing dangerously. "I don't miss. Let her go."
"She's a Brit. They should all die, they killed my family." John cried pressing the knife closer to Cora's neck. "I'll be avenged.'
"By killing her?"
"Yes."
"Don't be daft man, you can't possibly think that killing one innocent woman will make up for the murder of your family, and if you would give your head a good shake you would realize that."
"She's a Brit, her fathers a red coat. British killed my family."
"This isn't the way. She has nothing to do with it. I'm a soldier with the Continental army. This British woman gave me and many of our officer's care." Cora stared at Gabriel. She felt the cool sharp metal against her throat. Gabriel moved forward and John jerked her back a sharp pain telling her that his knife and nicked her throat. She gasped and her hands flew up to his hand, trying to pull his hand away.
"Stay there!" John cried insanely.
"I can assure you sir, I have no reason to move." Gabriel said calmly. "It would however, behoove you to release that woman." John stared at him, obviously weighing his options. Gabriel looked him square in the eye completely prepared to pull the trigger. Slowly John lowered his knife and flung Cora away. She landed unceremoniously in a heap on the ground, clutching her neck.
"You're a Patriot then." He said.
"That's right." Gabriel replied. "Go home. Your cause here has expired." John stared at him for a long time, obviously thinking. Then he turned, mumbled an apology and left. Gabriel looked down at Cora and hurried over to her. "Are you alright?" he asked. Cora just stared at the knife on the ground, struggling to breathe. She couldn't stop trembling. All she knew was the feeling of the metal in her throat. Thinking that that was it, she was dead. "Cora." He tried again. She didn't answer him. She couldn't hear him. She couldn't do much of anything. "Cora." He called again. Tears blurred her vision; a trembling hand came to her mouth as she tried to stop crying. Gabriel placed a hand on her shoulder and shook her hard. "Cora!" he shouted.
"Yes." She whispered, her voice choked with tears.
"Are you alright?" he asked.
"Yes, I'm fine." She replied and fighting down everything she shakily got to her feet and he led her inside.
************
Later that night, Gabriel was sitting on the couch in the sitting room reading, his feet propped up on a stool, his legs crossed at the ankles. Cora walked in, and started stroking the fire. He watched her as she moved. Noticing the purpose in her movements as if she were concentrating much too hard on them. She straightened up and brushed some hair away from her face and stood there staring at the hearth and he watched in admiration from a distance as the flames flickered across her face sending different shades of light across her features. She blinked as if to shake herself out of a trance and walked over to him.
"Brandy?" she asked.
"Please." He replied. He noticed that her voice wasn't as calm as it usually was and she never quite met his eyes. Her voice seemed to tremble as if she were on the verge of tears. As she poured the liquor into the glass, a clinking sound caught his ear. Looking down he saw that her hand was trembling violently and she was spilling brandy everywhere. "Cora." He whispered.
"I'm fine." She said, her voice quivering as she continued to attempt to pour, and he placed one of his hands over hers gently, silently ordering her to be still as he removed the bottle from her hand.
"Your not fine." He said gently. "Come on sit down." He removed his feet from the stool and set her down on the chair. She landed with a shaky sigh, as she pressed the back of a quivering-brandy-covered hand against her mouth and closed her eyes. She wanted to cry. She wanted to fall apart so badly but she knew that if she did, if she started to cry, she would probably never stop. So she tried to push it down, tried to fight her fear, but she couldn't. Her shoulders quavered and she covered her face with one hand as she gave into her tears. She hunched over sobbing violently unable to stop. Gabriel stared at her. He had no idea what to do. He hated seeing her cry. He hated seeing women cry period, which was why he had always had trouble delivering news to parents of their child's death. So he did the only thing he knew how to do, even thought he knew that it would offer little consolation. He gingerly wrapped his arms around her and she collapsed against him after a moment's resistance. His embrace tightened and she buried her face in his chest crying bitterly. She wept and wept until her bones ached and her eyes were dry. Until she could cry no more. She pushed him away gently and wiped her tears.
"I'm so sorry." She whispered.
"For what." Gabriel asked incredulously.
"Who is the doctor here, you or I?"
Prologue
It was night. The moon hung low and full and the stars shone brightly. Cool winds blew peacefully through the pine trees. It was dark, yes but not peaceful like the lying winds. Across the manor a large white house stood proudly against the black velvet night. Bright lights shone from inside the imposing building illuminating the windows and the porch on which a rocking chair stood. Inside the house was in uproar. Wounded soldiers lay on makeshift benches and tables moaning and crying out for their mothers, some lay strewn across the floor patched up with bandages saturated with blood, others against walls half unconscious, many already dead. Servants scampered in and out of massive rooms carrying bowls of bloodied water. Their aprons once starched white now soiled and bloodied from the day's activities.
"Abigail I need more bandages, and brandy!" A young woman called. Her waist length, wavy, dark brown, hair was twisted haphazardly into a messy bun. Tendrils and whole locks of hair hung about her face in sweaty messy clumps. Her pale pink dress was soiled and messy, blood streaked across her apron, face and neck. Her sweaty chest heaved as her dark blue eyes raked the room searching for anyone who needed care. She would have been beautiful to look at if not for the sweat mud and blood that covered her face, but she didn't care. She never really did bother with her appearance although she was always told that she should. The place was messy, and there were too many soldiers there, all bloodied and soiled, too many cries and shouts of pain for anyone to tell the difference between the dead and wounded in the cluster of battered and bloodied bodies. But she could tell, her focused eyes searched the room picking out the men, cataloging their faces and names looking for a new face one she hadn't helped before. "Nicole, hot water now!" she called spotting a new one.
"Yes madam." The young woman sat by the bedside of the young soldier who met her eyes with a tortured gaze from under heavy lids.
"Am I going to die Miss?" he whispered. She stared at him and stroked his dark hair away from his forehead with a gentle gesture.
"You're going to be fine." She said managing a small grim smile for his sake. Then she looked up, her eyes again cold and focused. "Abigail!" she cried.
"Here Miss." A Negro woman said rushing to her side with fresh bandages and a cup and a bowl of brandy.
"Thank you." She said gratefully. "See to the others." She said softly. "Nicole!" she called.
"Here Miss Cora." The girl said. She couldn't have been more than fifteen, to her mistresses seventeen.
"Thank you dear, go help Abigail."
"Are you sure that you won't be needing any help Miss?" she asked.
"Quite." Came the curt reply for Cora had already turned her attention to the soldier in her care. Quick as lightning she ripped open his shirt with a strength that most women in her class probably wouldn't have possessed. She dipped the bandage in the hot water and started to clean the wound. Her gaze flickered to the soldier's face and she saw that his eyes were closed. "Tell me your name." She said and his eyes flew open.
"Ma'am?" he whispered raggedly.
"Your name." She repeated.
"Conroe. Conroe O'Marshall." He whispered.
"Your rank?" she asked her eyes not leaving his wound and her hands moved steadily as she applied the brandy.
"Don't have one." He winced in pain, and she glanced up at him, her quick stare reassuring him.
"How many battles?"
"Five."
"That's very good. Do you have family?"
"Yes. A wife, her name is Diane. And a son his name is Marcus."
"They would be proud." She said, looking up at him and smiling.
1 Chapter 1: Sanctuary
Cora laid her weary body on her bed. Her body was cleansed and clad in a white linen nightgown. Her hair was in a very lose braid that she didn't bother to secure with a ribbon. Ever since her father had left for battle her days had all been the same. Hundreds of soldiers poured through her doors seeking aid. Many left healed and better for it. Many stayed and helped her. Her father had been a General in the army and she hadn't heard from him in days. She worried for him but in her spent state she couldn't bear to think about anything but sleep. A strange thought for although she was tired, she couldn't rest. Images of tortured men floated around in the back of her mind and beneath her eyelids as she closed her eyes. Sleep, she could not drift off. Not completely, just managing to stay in the clamps of a light siesta. Floating between the realm of the conscious and unconscious. A mindless state, a daze in her state of semi consciousness. She wanted to open her eyes rather than hover in that realm of bogus rest but her heavy eyes lids would not obey her mind's halfhearted command. Instead she floated deeper into her sub consciousness until she was almost asleep. And then she was in a field, a cold, and dry, barren one. A voice filtered out through the haze of mist.
"Cora!" it called it was common yet strange, odd but hauntingly familiar. It was her father's.
"Papa?" she called tentatively.
"Come here girl!" he called. She came to him following his voice. After what seemed like forever she reached him. He embraced her warmly and for on moment she was nine again as she melted into his arms.
"Papa." She whispered, as tears blurred her vision.
"It'll be alright girl." He said.
"I've missed you." She said pulling away.
"And I have missed you." He replied. "But you have to wake up now lass."
"But I want to stay here, with you." She whispered brokenly silent tears coursing down her cheeks.
"So do I." he said. "But he needs you."
"Who?" she asked
"Wake up Cora." He whispered then he vanished into thin air, although his being seemed to hover in the air like a fog. Her eyes snapped open to see Abigail calling her name.
"Madame!" she called harshly.
"Yes." She said, her eyes blinking furiously.
"We found a lone soldier ma'am." She said.
"Where is he?" she asked.
"A stones throw from the Marsill's house." Within seconds Cora was out of her bed grabbing her aid kit, flinging her long, velvet, navy blue, cape about her shoulders as she flew down the staircase and out the door to her horse that was already saddled and waiting. She mounted it and rode hard into the silken night. Her hair fell out of the braid and streamed out behind her like a silken fountain of dark chocolate. Her hood fell back in her haste. Within minutes she was at the Marsill's home she looked around. Her breath puffs of condensed air, fading into the night. Spotting her henchman she rode hard towards him. Upon approaching him she jumped nimbly off of her horse with practiced ease and ran over to him.
"Declan! Where is he?"
"Over there by the tree." He said handing her the lantern. She was gone before he could finish for she had already spotted him.
"I don't know if you can help him, he looks near death to me." Declan said as she collapsed at the young man's side, placing the lantern on the other side of him. She took in his face and saw that he was beautiful, save for the dirt and blood on his face from a cut above his eyebrow: A strong jawbone, and wavy, sandy blonde, hair and an angelic face, pale from loss of blood no doubt, as she saw that his shirt was soaked in it. She ripped it open and gasped at the wound that decorated his flesh: a deep, wide, angry, crimson, slash incised from his ribs down to his lower stomach.
"Oh!" she cried out. She pressed her hand to her mouth trying to contain herself. She closed her eyes and took a couple deep breaths then opened them.
"DECLAN!!" she cried, her soft, deep voice ringing out in the silence.
"Yes ma'am." He said coming to her side. "Holy Mother!" he exclaimed upon seeing the abrasion.
"Declan help me please, I can't carry him by myself!" She cried. The man's eyes fluttered open and gazed at her in bewilderment.
"Declan! Please." She said unable to remove her eyes from the stranger's. She grasped his hands in her own. "Oh God your hands are like ice." She whispered breathing on his hands warming them with her own. He opened his mouth as if to talk but she silenced him with a hand to his mouth. "Shhh, don't talk dear. Save your strength." She said stroking his forehead as his eyes fluttered closed. Declan knelt down next to her and started to pick the man up. The man cried out in agony from his wounds.
"For God sake man, be merciful!" he groaned.
"Be careful with him Declan." Cora said hoisting the man to his feet. She gathered up his things and then helped Declan place him on the horse. She hooked his bags on her horse's saddle and then led him back home with Declan's help, pausing when the pain was too much for the man to handle.
*************
Fire roared in the hearth, crackling, filling the almost frigid room with warmth. Blood dripped from a bandage into a bowl of already red water. Cora watched as it slowly spread out making itself part of the clear liquid, staining it. Her hair had been pulled back and up into a messy low bun. Her hair was in her face again, much like always. She wiped gently at the man's pale flesh, noticing that he had a washboard stomach, and a well- muscled chest. He watched her as she worked. Her hands were firm yet gentle, her expression focused.
"What happened?" she asked. He had been drifting in and out of consciousness, much to her alarm, for he couldn't afford to fall asleep now.
"I was ambushed. My men are dead, I barely got out alive." He stared at her hands. They were small and slender covered in smooth ivory skin.
"I'm surprised that you are alive. A wound this deep." she trailed off as she stared at it. You should be dead. She thought to herself.
"Yes, well, sorry to disappoint you." He said smiling grimly. She glanced up at him and decided to play along.
"You're forgiven." She said. He laughed low and smooth like honey wincing sharply and she glanced up to see a breathtaking smile. His eyes were a warm, honey brown and they sparkled as he smiled. Hints of sexiness danced across his lovely mouth. Dimples creased his cheeks, and it had a mischievous hint to it that made it down right unintentionally seductive. She glanced at his face again and couldn't help but smile a little. "What is your name?" she asked.
"Gabriel. Corporal Gabriel Martin." He said. His voice was deep and smooth and languid. It coated her in the beautiful sound of it. It wrapped around her caressing the air around her easing her mind, relaxing her body. Focus on his wound woman! She scolded herself. His eyelids were fluttering again. He could barely make out what she was saying.
"I'm Cora. Lady Cora De Barbarac." She brushed some hair out of her face and started to clean the wound with brandy. "Are you cold?" she asked upon seeing the goose bumps on his arms. Well what do you think it's cold out and his has no shirt on? She thought to herself.
"Very." He replied. She picked up a cup from the counter and pored him some brandy handing him the cup.
"Would you have said anything if I hadn't asked? Declan help me." She said gesturing to the man to had been sitting silently in the corner. He arose and walked over to them help Gabriel up.
"Well that depends." He said sat up slowly, and with difficulty even with the man's help, grimacing slightly, letting out a harsh cry of pain and took a long drag. "Thank you." He said sincerely to Declan as he laid him back down.
"On what."
"On if you asked." He said with a pained smile as he lay back down flinching, and crying out slightly at the anguish that shot through his body. He stared at her soft features they were refined and beautiful. He watched through heavy lids as the fire flickered in her dark blue eyes and across her face and hair, the light creating a halo of light against her dark tresses. Her voice was soft and small sounding yet strangely deep and commanding, it was mesmerizing. It was soothing, charming and beautiful, just like her. She had an aura of grace, confidence and leadership that surrounded her like a scent. Her eyes were soft and deep, and her hands were warm and supple, yet firm. Cora picked up a needle and grabbed a candle. She stuck the needle in the flame, sterilizing it then she dipped it in the brandy and stuck it back in the fire. His eyes flew open and he glanced down at it with a panicked expression. "What are you doing?" he asked in an alarmed voice trying to sit up barely disguising a scream at the pain that shot through his body once again.
"Be careful!" she cried "You've already lost too much blood." She glared at him. "I'm sterilizing it. You're going to need stitches." She said as she quickly threaded the needle with thick thread "You should get rest." She glanced up at him. "Your body will need the strength in order to heal." She pressed down firmly on his chest silently ordering him to lie back down. He glanced at her and then glared at the needle and then complied. She stuck the needle through his skin and silently made a stitch, then another and another. She paused to brush her hair away from her face and glanced up at him. "Who is your father?"
"Captain Benjamin Martin."
"Truly? I have heard many great things about him."
"So have I."
"My father fought with him in the French and Indian war. Whilst other girls got stories about unicorns and princesses, I got war stories, battle tactics."
"You must have been a very queer girl." He said raggedly. Feeling the fatigue taking him over.
"I was." She said, her hard expression softening. "I had little friends but I didn't care. I had my books and my father." She smiled softly and shook her head. "I lost my mother when I was two, I've seen pictures and heard stories but I don't remember her in any way."
"I lost my mother at twelve, she was my world and I miss her dearly." He said. She glanced up at him upon hearing the melancholy in his voice and saw that he was gazing at the fire. The sparkle in his eyes replaced by a poignant nostalgia. Darkness closed in on his vision as his eyes fluttered shut. "I would rather hear her voice than anything in all the world." He whispered hoarsely. She blinked and returned her attention to his half sewn wound. She had never seen such pain in anyone's eyes before. Silence filled the room. A sad, suffocating silence. She made the last stitch and glanced up at him knotting the thread she leaned over and delicately bit the thread cutting it. Her soft mouth brushed his skin, catching his attention. She stuck the needle in the spool of thread and put it on a small table. He looked at her in almost shock and she found herself looking away. It was so hard to look him in the eye, to face his half naked beauty. Concentrate, he is wounded! She thought to herself.
"I'll need you to sit up in order for me to bandage it." She said, her voice cracking. He sat up slowly, once more with Declan's help propping himself up on his arms grimacing in pain. She grabbed a bandage and started to wrap it around his torso. His body was closer to her's now almost more than she could handle. Stop that! She wrapped it around his body her hands grazing his smooth, tantalizingly warm skin. He could feel her breath like tepid silk against his shoulder. He rolled her name around his mind. Cora he thought A lovely name. It suits her. He couldn't help but stare as she tucked in the bandage, couldn't help but notice how her hands lingered there for a while before moving them. Already his skin missed her touch. She looked at him, staring into his eyes. She could feel her pulse racing at his close proximity. Concentrate! She couldn't look away, his gaze called to her, drawing her in; it was madness what he was making her feel. This had never happened before. No one had ever been able to make her so aware of his or her presence, not like this. Damn you hormones, Cora think! His eyes seemed to look through her, rather than at her as if he were turning her inside out. She didn't know who had leaned in but she was feeling his breath on her face and it hadn't always been like that. Stupid girl, think! He's wounded badly, barely alive! She looked down trying to break the eye contact but instead ended up staring at his mouth. She blinked and turned away, adagio breezes filling her skin with sudden scarlet flush. She arose from the chair leaving Declan and him on the couch and walked over one where a fresh clean linen shirt lay. She picked it up and walking back over to Gabriel handed it to him.
"It belonged to my father, it's probably too big but it'll have to do." She said. Their fingers brushed and she felt sweat pop out onto the back of her hands. The back of my hand can sweat? She thought. Nicole burst into the room
"Madame, do you need any-" she trailed off noticing the compromising position she found her mistress and that handsome stranger in, and the amused look on Declan's face.
"Yes Nicole?" Cora asked turning around, her cheeks burning.
"Need you my help?" Nicole asked. She glanced at Gabriel who stared back at her with an expression of almost embarrassment.
"No thank you dear. I have Declan, and I am already finished." Cora started gathering up her things, unable to look any of them in the eye. "Could you get the Corporal some blankets and a pillow from the guest room, I don't want to move him around too much."
"Yes Madame." Nicole said and she disappeared in search of the blankets and pillow. Cora glanced back once at him, against her better judgment and saw that Declan was helping him slowly, painfully put on the shirt.
"Good night Corporal." She said. His head popped out from the neck hole and he pulled the shirt down over his body.
"Good night Miss." He said then he leaned back gingerly, with the man's help gasping silently. She left the room after Declan, and headed up the stairs to her bedroom to sleep.
Chapter 2 : Between the realms.
Cora's eyes snapped open. It was morning; the sun was shining down on her face. She sat up and climbed out of bed. She washed her face, bathed and started to get dressed. Abigail entered the room with her breakfast.
"Morning Miss." She said setting the tray on a small table in the corner.
"Good morning Amelia, how is the Corporal?"
"Not so good. He got a dire fever during the night, and he was thrashin' 'round in his sleep. Kept a right fine watch over him though. Make sure he didn't break them stitches." She reported lacing up Cora's corset. Cora held on to the bedpost breathing in when Amelia pulled, exhaling when she stopped. Breathing was an art in these damn things. Abigail grabbed a plain, insipid yellow dress from the closet and helped Cora put it on. She sat at her vanity and twirled her long hair into a low, slack, muddled bun, securing it with hairpins.
"I will have to check up on him." She said, arising from her seat and heading down the stairs. She walked into the room, and was shocked at his difference. His skin was ashen, covered with sweat, his eyes were closed his shirt half undone. He was wincing and moaning rolling around slightly. He looked like he was between dying and dead. He looked terrible. She walked quickly to his side and pressed the back of her hand gently against his forehead, shuddering at the intense heat. "I need a bowl of ice water, and rags." She called to Abigail. His condition frightened her. She only hoped that it would pass. A bowl of water with ice cubes floating around the top was placed at her side and some rags were placed in her hand.
"Can you help him Miss?" Abigail asked.
"I will do what I can. Go check on the others." Cora said soaking the rag in the water and then placing it on his forehead. Gabriel flinched and groaned. Something icy was on his forehead. His throat was like the desert his body felt like he was on fire and his body was wrought with pain. His eyes fluttered open and he saw some blurry person wiping his head with something. She picked up a fan from the table and started fanning him, trying to get him as comfortable as possible. She opened his shirt as far as it would go and then taking up another rag and soaking it she wiped his chest and fanned some air there as well. He moaned again and tried to move. "Don't move. You'll aggravate your wound." She said. His feverish mind couldn't make out what she was saying; he struggled, his feeble, heavy limbs trying to move himself away. She pushed his failing arms away, and tried to calm him down.
"Gabriel please, calm down it's alright dear, calm down." She said softly, tying to hide her fear. He couldn't make out her words but her tone was soothing. He moaned again, flashes of agony beating on his tired, heated mind. She took the rag and soaked it again then placed it on his fore head. Then she rewet the rag on his chest and replaced it there. She drizzled water all over his face and neck, stroking his hair gently. He was going to make it. He had come too far to give up now.
*********************
Cora closed the eyes of another soldier and sighed shakily. Already a whole day had passed. Night was approaching. They were dying. She was bending over backwards for these men and they were dying. She wasn't helping; all she was doing was buying them time. She had handed Gabriel over to Abigail hours ago. There were others to help. If only they would stop dying. She fought down tears and went over to another one. He stared at her with fear in his eyes. He was shaking with strain and trying to talk.
"Shhh, save your strength." She whispered.
"P...P.Please Mmm.M.Miss." He managed to get out. "C...C.Can y.you get t...t.this to m..m...y wife n' c.c.children?" he stammered with pain. She looked at his hand and saw a letter. She took it from him and smiled sadly. She saw the desperation in his eyes.
"I swear, they'll get it." She whispered. He smiled grimly, and then stopped shaking. She stared at him, her eyes searching his placid face. She pressed her fingers to his neck to check for a pulse and found none. She closed her eyes and sank to her knees. He was the fifteenth one today. Tears stained her cheeks as she gave into them. Despair and helplessness washed over her. They were dying anyway. She looked up opened her eyes and saw that there were others. She wiped away the visible tears, fought down the rest and saw to another one. She knew that she had promised her father but she didn't know how much more of this she could take. She had been so sure of herself when her father had left. But now she wished that he hadn't made her make that promise. She arose and walked over to another one who needed water.
"Nicole." She called. In a flash the girl was there. Tired and filthy but ready to carry out her mistresses wishes.
"Did you sleep last night dear?" Cora asked concerned.
"No Miss, that man you brought in last night was twitchin' n' screaming in his sleep Miss. He done kept everyone up Miss." She said. Cora took in her disheveled appearance and nodded.
"Get sleep tonight dear." She said. "Could you get him some water?" she asked.
"Yes ma'am." Nicole replied and set off. Cora looked around the room. So many dead on tables and so many who needed to be on tables instead of the floor. She was about to ask Declan to move the corpses out, when Angela came running into the room.
"MISS!!" she cried, out of breath. Cora ran up to her seeing her distress.
"What is it?" Cora asked grasping her shoulder trying to calm her down.
"Soldiers Miss, Red coats, a whole army of them!" she cried. Men around them shot up, eyes flew open. Servants came running into the room. They had all heard the decree. If you harbor the enemy you lose your home and everything else, possibly your head. They could be shot on sight.
"Well how far away are they?!" Cora cried in alarm.
"Far enough for us to do something about these here men, Miss!" she cried. Cora looked around in fear, so many men relied on her so many lives. They were staring at her, men, and servants. She ran outside the door and looked out into the distance. She estimated about seven miles; they had time. She ran back inside and looked around before running into the room where Gabriel and Amelia was. Amelia looked up sharply.
"Red coats are coming, we need to move the soldiers." She cried. Then she ran back out side, pausing briefly. Her body sweaty, her chest heaving, her eyes darted to and fro as she tried to think. Suddenly she sprung into action running over to a section in the wall next to the fireplace. She probed the wall steadily yet frantically trying to find the spot that her father had shown.CLICK! The sound resounded throughout the room. She pulled that part of the wall open. Everyone was looking at her in shock. "Don't stand there gaping, put them down there, now, GO!" She cried harshly. She grabbed a lantern and lighted it to show the way down into the secret room. Then she ran back through the crowd of wounded soldiers being helped into the secret room, and hurried into the room with Gabriel. "Declan! Ian!" she called and the two men ran into the room. "Move the Corporal." She said. "Abigail, help me with my dress, then make sure the others are clean as well." They ran out the room, leaving the two burly men to carry Gabriel. "Nicole get some others to clean the rooms a best you can! Everyone hurry we don't have much time." She ran up the stairs taking them two at a time flying down the hall way and into her room.
"Hurry Abigail, anything, take out anything, just hurry!" she cried as she struggled to untie her dress from behind. As soon as she untied it, she shed it like a skin, and ran over to Abigail who was holding up a dress made of a deep, dark, violet satin and velvet. She slipped it on and brushed her hair frantically while Abigail laced up her dress pulling her hair back with two locks of hair and securing it with a tie. She grabbed a necklace of black ribbon with bells at the end and tied it around her neck then ran down the stairs with Abigail right behind her. She ran through the house, making sure that the job the servants had done was seamless then headed toward the secret room. Her eyes searched the dimly lit room for Gabriel, for in his condition, he was one of her main concerns. She made him out, he was being cared for by Declan. She ran over to them and checked his temperature. He still had a bad fever but it had lessened some. "Keep him wet and fan him." She instructed. Then she ran up the stairs and shut the door, just as a heavy knocking sounded throughout the house, startling the servants who had just finished dressing, and signaling the troops' arrival. Cora walked calmly over to the door, Abigail in tow and opened it.
***************
He had icy blue eyes, dark hair and a hard, yet, supposedly handsome face. He was arrogant, with broad shoulders and a puffed out chest. He was very aware of his position and command. It disgusted her.
"Good evening ladies, I am Cornel Tavington, sorry to disturb you." He had a deep voice with a thick, snobby, English accent.
"It was hardly a disturbance sir, I was merely reading a book." She replied, ever the submissive lady.
"And where do your loyalties lie?" he asked. Not to you and your bloody 'king' that's for sure. She thought fiercely.
"To King and country sir. May I ask why you are here?"
"You may, my troops are tired and need food and rest. I trust we may reside here the night?" he asked, much to her dismay.
"Um, well I..." she blinked and glanced at Abigail.
"Lovely." He said not waiting for her to reply.
"I beg your pardon sir, but I have not answered your question." She said, her temper boiling.
"Yes but any one loyal to the crown, shouldn't need to be asked whether or not the kings army can seek care and rest in their home." He said glowering down at her.
"Then why did you ask?" she said.
"I didn't." he turned to gesture to his troops. They started filing in, pushing roughly past her and filling the house. The cornel made no move to correct this he simply followed them in. "This is a lovely home." He commented, looking around. One of the soldiers flung his rifle off of his shoulder and it swung carelessly around startling Nicole, who barely kept down her scream of astonishment.
"Please put that thing away, I can assure you that you won't be needing it here." Cora said harshly, he leaned it against the wall. "I beg your pardon Cornel," she said turning her attention to Tavington. " But I oppose this strongly. You cannot just."
"Just what?" he asked, knowing full well that he could. Cora stared at him wanting to stop him, knowing that she couldn't.
"You would leave in the morning?"
"Yes." He replied as if she were a fool for making him repeat himself. She glared at the floor, knowing that she couldn't glare at him and closed the door, glancing at Abigail who shot her a warning glare. She had seen Cora's temper, she had seen it many times, and it was not something to be directed to a renowned Cornel in the British army.
"I will see to your rooms." Cora said and headed up the stairs, wondering all the while how she was going to check on Gabriel if these Red coats were in the house. She trembled at the thought of what they would do to him, and then pushed it away. She tended to the rooms with Abigail, Nicole and Tiffany, the fear for Gabriel keeping her going. Finally at about eight they were done, the soldiers went up and to bed and the house was eerily quiet. Soft winds blew through open windows; the moon shone softly granting blissful sleep to the inhabitants of the house. Cora however could not sleep. Thoughts of Gabriel's cold lifeless corpse filled her mind until she couldn't bear it. She climbed out of bed, and walked out of her room. Clad only in her nightgown and nightcap, and lit candelabra in hand, she made her way stealthily down the stairs knowing where they would creak and avoiding the spots. She ran as quickly and quietly down the hallway as she could, pausing only to make sure that no one was following her. If anyone knew the sounds of the house it was she. Every night she would lay in bed and listen to the sounds it made. She knew how that wind blew through the house, how the air felt, and could tell if anyone was behind or next to her. Sensing nothing, she ran her hands along the wall, finding the spot and pressing it gently. The click sounded and the wall opened. She waited, checking, wary for the sakes of the wounded soldiers in her care. Hearing nothing she slipped through the narrow opening closing the 'door' behind her, and crept down the stairs.
***********
Gabriel's eyes opened. His squinted eyes searched the dimly lit room. He noticed that his eyes didn't hurt as much. He slowly took in his surroundings. Gray stonewalls, encased a fairly large room. Tables were placed around the dirt ground. Lit candelabra's decorated the walls and he could see men laid on tables and on the ground. His head felt better, clearer, and his body didn't feel completely overwhelmed with pain. He didn't recognize this room, didn't know how he had gotten here. Where was Cora? Where was he? He felt a wet rag along his forehead and he saw a man Declan wasn't it? He thought.
"Where am I?" Gabriel whispered raggedly. Declan looked down at him.
"Oh thank the lord your up sir! Miss would have surely had my hide sir." Declan said looking down at him.
"Where am I?" Gabriel asked again.
"Your still in Miss Cora's house, secret room, there were red coats while you were asleep. Sounds like they be setting up to stay for awhile." Footsteps along the ceiling caught their attention. Gabriel tensed noticeably and Declan grabbed his rifle. A click sounded through out the room, and everyone looked up. A pause then footsteps coming down the stairs, the door closing and then more footsteps. Gabriel stared in fear at the staircase and relaxed when he saw that it was only Cora. His eyes closed and he sighed. Cora walked up to Gabriel and placed down her candelabra. She pressed her hand against his fore head.
"Oh thank heavens. The fever is practically gone." She whispered. His eyes opened, to see her gazing down at him, concerned.
"Were are the soldiers?"
"They're camping here for the night. The nerve of that man Tavington."
"Colonel Tavington?" Gabriel asked, suddenly very awake.
"Yes, why?" she asked. Fury, anger, hate all at once flashed across Gabriel's features. The cold fury in his eyes alarmed her.
"That bastard." he whispered angrily, a sound Cora hoped would never be directed to her. Before they could stop him he was struggling to sit up, pushing up on his arms, wincing in pain, crying out slightly in agony. She snapped out of her trance, seeing what he was doing. All eyes turned to them.
"Corporal please!" she cried trying to hold him down.
"Sir calm down!" Declan said, helping her.
"Do NOT tell me to 'calm down'!" Gabriel bit out angrily, slowly in a low dangerous voice.
"Why?" Declan asked fighting him down.
"LEAVE ME!!" he cried struggling to push him away.
"Shut him up will you! We'll be spotted!" cried Ian, form the other side of the room.
"Corporal don't, you'll break the stitches." Cora begged.
"Damn the stitches, he killed my brother cold bloodedly, burned my home, destroyed my life."
"Corporal you are in no condition to-" she struggled with him.
"I can fight-"
"Yes you would fight bravely and die just as quickly, who then would avenge your brother?" she said harshly. He glared at her and then obliged. He closed his eyes and tried to control his breathing, when the pain caught up with him and a near scream sounded from his lips. Cora's hand stifled his cry of agony. He pushed her away. "Don't be angry with me Corporal." She whispered,
"You don't know anything." He whispered.
"And how do you know that? The same Colonel who killed your brother killed my best and only friend, the sister I never had."
"Thomas was trying to save me."
"And she was trying to protect her mother, who was killed anyway." He looked at her with tears in his eyes. " There will be a time for revenge, but until then stay the course. I know that you want satisfaction, so do I; anyone would but look at you Gabriel. You can barely stand; going out there would only get you killed. And for what? For whom? Not for your brother, surely. It would serve no purpose to challenge Tavington now. I barely even know you, yet I know that you have more sense than that." She stared him in the eye, momentarily forgetting who she was. She blinked and looked down, shaking her head. He closed his eyes and looked away from her. She started to check to see if he had broken any stitches, only a few, not too many. Thank god she thought. How could he even think about putting himself into danger like that? She thought as she threaded a needle and started re-doing his stitches, and especially with an entire station of British soldiers upstairs. She finished and placed down the needle. "I have to go." She said picking up her candelabra and walked back up the stairs. She opened the door and slipped through it closing it behind her. She stood there for a few minutes collecting her thoughts, most of them of Gabriel. She admired his desire to live, and his passion for justice, yet somehow she knew that he knew she was right. Something was wrong in the air. She felt another presence.
"A little late to be up." A voice sounded from the darkness. She gasped and spun around to face Colonel Tavington. "Wouldn't you say Miss?" She blinked stupidly trying to think up an excuse.
"I thought I heard a noise." She said.
"So did I, I didn't realize that it was you." He replied. She moved to get back upstairs to her room but he blocked her. "Is it safe to be here?"
"Sir?"
"Alone, a woman, in the middle of a war?" He clarified. She stared at him, unsure of what he was saying.
"Rebellious soldiers fighting nearby and such."
"Before you they're were no soldiers." She said. He stared at her silently and she stared back.
"Shouldn't a woman be in need of protection?" he asked. "Especially one so young as yourself."
"Oh, well I wouldn't worry about that." She replied. "My father is an expert swordsman and marksman sir he taught me well." Her tone was level, her expression calm. "What can I say, he'd always wanted a boy." There was a little malice in her voice, not much but he seemed to catch on and moved aside. She walked up the stairs and into her bedroom and went back to bed.
Chapter 3: Unexpected refuge
It was around five in the afternoon the next day when Cora finally was able to rest herself. She was dressed in a pale blue dress and was sitting in the rocking chair on the veranda attempting to finish a pillowcase that she had started to embroider a few years ago. As promised Tavington had left with his soldiers on the morrow, but cleaning up the rooms and seeing that the patriot soldiers were removed from the secret room and placed in another at the back of the house and caring for them had taken up the morning and most of the afternoon as well. She hadn't embroidered in a very long time but the skills were slowly coming back to her. It was the only way that she could not think about that imbecile coming into her house and taking over as if he owned the place. The audacity of him. It made her insanely mad. At least by doing this she was able to keep her mind on one thing, focus all her energy on one thing. She was so engrossed with her work that she didn't hear the footsteps.
"Have you eaten Ma'am?" Abigail asked, startling Cora.
"Good heavens Abigail you startled me!" she cried. "And to answer your question no, I have not."
"Well come on, you haven't eaten in days!" Abigail cried. Pulling Cora to her feet and leading her inside. "So caught up with carin' for the wounded, you done gone forget to take care of yourself. Come on now don't be stubborn, I'll fix you up something right quick, and I don't wanna see a crumb left, you understand?" she ordered. Cora smiled and followed her into the house. Looking into the sitting room, she saw Gabriel on the couch reading, his expression soft with concentration. She walked into the kitchen and, pulling out a chair from the corner, sat down at the oak table. She considered his expression, how it was drastically different than the one he had worn the night before. A plate chock-full of steaming vegetables and meat was placed before her. It could barely hold all of the food. Cora looked up at Abigail in alarm. "Not one scrap." Abigail warned, silencing her protests. Cora's shoulders slumped, she pouted and her held out her hand for a fork. Abigail placed one in her hand and Cora began to eat pouting all the while. She put her fork down and looked up at Abigail.
"I couldn't possibly eat all this." Cora said.
"Your problem not mine." was the reply.
"I will burst!"
"Not to worry. I can assure you I do excellent stichwork." Abigail replied with a smile, and Cora rolled her eyes and continued to eat. Noises sounded from the living room. She glanced up to see Gabriel slumped heavily on Abigail as she lugged him into the kitchen.
"I'm seriously not that hungry." he insisted.
"You haven't eaten since you got here. Maybe with some food in your system you'll be able to think straight and you won't pull another stunt like last night." Abigail replied setting him down in the chair. He leaned back heavily with a sigh, and stared at the table.
"You know about that?" he asked
"Oh, Sir everybody knows about that." Abigail replied as she heaped food onto a plate. Gabriel glanced at Cora, who continued eating wordlessly, not even sparing him a glance. A plate full of food was dropped before him. He stared at it for a while and then quirked an eyebrow.
"Is this all for me?" he asked. Cora smiled faintly.
"Well yes, it is it's in front of you in't it?" Abigail replied.
"I can't eat all this!" he protested eyes wide in shock, staring at the platter that was at least half the size of a serving dish and still could barely hold all the food.
"Not only can you but you will, she will see to that." Cora said. He stared at her. "Trust me." He looked back down at the plate.
"Have you eaten Abigail?" he asked.
"Sir it is quite impossible for me to forget my stomach under any circumstances." She replied and then she left the room. Gabriel sighed in defeat and disbelief and looked back down at his plate. There was no way he could possibly eat all of this. He started to eat. It wasn't until the first forkful of food reached his mouth that he realized how hungry he really was. In the next half an hour the plate was virtually empty. Cora sat there mostly done with her's, but picking at it distractedly as if she had lost her interest. He sighed and glanced at her.
"I want to apologize for the way I acted." He said finally, feeling a weight lift from his chest. "I was wrong, not to mention a bit off, and I want to thank you for saving me from myself." Cora blinked and looked at him surprised.
"Um, your welcome, and your forgiven." She said. "And as for you actions they were completely understandable; Imperceptive, but understandable nonetheless." She smiled faintly and looked back down at her plate.
"Thank you." Gabriel replied. "You.my mother used to say that to me."
"What, about you being thick headed?"
"No. Previously, when you said 'there will be a time for revenge, until then stay the course. She would say it every time I picked on my little brother Thomas. So I heard it pretty much every day." He said, still not looking at her.
"I can well imagine." She said looking back down at her plate.
"I'm sorry about your friend." Gabriel said suddenly. Cora looked up surprised and then smiled faintly and nodded.
"How are those stitches holding up?" she asked.
"Very well actually. You do excellent stichwork." He said.
"Yes, I do don't I." She replied, allowing herself some self-appraisal. "When they heal, if of course they are given a chance to do so," she stared at him pointedly, "I believe they won't leave much of a scar."
"I will never live that up will I?" he asked smiling. "But then again I have never known a woman to forget anything."
"You obviously have never met my Aunt Gwen Della-Ann."
"Gwen Della-Ann?" Gabriel asked, his eyebrows shooting up in amusement.
"Don't ask. It's one of the things that she isn't proud of."
"So you trying to tell me that her name was Lady Gwen Della-Ann De Barbarac?" he asked cringing slightly.
"I'm not trying to tell you anything, but yes." She replied.
"Dear God." He murmured. "Well what's your middle name?" he asked suddenly.
"Aislinn-Elizabeth." She replied. "Yours?"
"Theodore." He said flatly, none too pleased. She burst out laughing before she could stop herself, and he glared at her. "Are you laughing at me?" he asked unimpressed.
"Yes." She replied between giggles.
"Thank you for your honesty." He said, his tone dripping with sarcasm.
"Forgive me, it's a fine name. Gabriel Theodore Martin." She said trying to redeem herself at the last minute. He glanced at her, as if to see if she was humoring him or if she was being honest.
"As opposed to Gwen Della-Ann?" he asked.
"Oh, well anything is better than that." She replied regaining her appetite. Gabriel stared at her as she ate.
"I'm sorry about your friend." He said. She stopped immediately. "I know that it must have been very hard." She placed her fork down slowly.
"It's nothing extraordinary. I'm confident that you went through an identical circumstance with your own brother's cessation Corporal." She said keeping her eyes down.
"But to deal with death on a regular basis."
"As do you."
"I get to let some of it out." He said smiling. "You don't." She shrugged.
"I hate feeling like I can't do anything. This helps me deal with the war. I don't feel completely useless." He nodded in understanding.
"Everything is alright between us then?"
"Perfectly alright." She said smiling slightly and looking at him.
*************
3 months later
Cora's eyes flew open and she shot up and smile on her face. She climbed out of bed and rushed to get dressed flinging on a red dress and brushing her hair hurriedly. She snuck down the stairs and flew out the front door, a giddy look on her face. She ran to the stables and over to her horse Ebony. Abigail was at the market with Ian and Gabriel was asleep. The wounded soldiers were being taken care of by Angela, Nicole and Tiffany. She led he horse out of the barn stroking the steed's snout. The horse was jet black and magnificent, being a thorough bred Andalusian.
"I haven't ridden you in so long." She said kissing its nose. "Shall we?" Ebony snorted in delight and Cora grinned, quickly saddling her horse and mounting. She rode off laughing. It felt like it had been ages since she had felt the wind through her hair, and against her face. She rode Ebony all across her father's estate, up over the hills and through the woods like a real wild child. Her soul sang, her spirit soared as she flew across the earth. Finally she headed back towards her home. She trotted up to the stables and jumped off of Ebony. She lead him back into his stall and unsaddled him rustling his mane when she was done. "We are good friends you and I." She whispered. "I'll see you soon." She kissed its neck and turned and headed back to the house. Something hard flew across her cheek, sending her sprawling across the lawn. Her face throbbed and she looked up to see her neighbor. His eyes were wild, his clothes disheveled and he stank of liquor and vomit. But it was the rifle in his hand that terrified her most.
"Damned Red Coat." He murmured angrily. She got to her feet slowly her face even, her eyes wide.
"Mr. Marsill." She said quietly.
"I saw them. We all did." He growled.
"I'm afraid I don't understand." She said trying to keep her voice calm. She started to back up slowly away from him.
"DON'T MOVE DAMMIT!!" he screamed and she jumped involuntarily. The barrel of the gun swung up to her face. "The Red coats you helped. We saw them at your house. Killed my family they did. Every single damn one of you deserves to die."
"Sir?"
"You heard me!"
"You can't possibly think that I had anything to do with that John. You know how much I enjoyed Dyane's company."
"LIAR!!" he bellowed. Cora panicked. Her mind raced trying to find a way to reason with him. She tried to talk but all she could see was the gun aimed at her. Your little innocent games might work on others but they won't work on me. You gonna get what you deserve."
"Sir you cannot be serious, I-"
"You damned right I'm serious!" The gun slammed into her chest sending her staggering back.
"Mr. Marsill, please-" she tried. It couldn't be happening. This couldn't be the way she was to die.
"Shut up!" he shrieked. His hand trembled, her heart raced. Who could help her? Gabriel, he was better wasn't he? He was also very much asleep. She fought down her tears and tried to calm herself down enough to think. The gun was aimed, the trigger.. She couldn't watch. She shut her eyes and her body tensed as she clenched her tiny fists. A gunshot sounded and she screamed. Opening her eyes she saw that she wasn't hurt but the spot a few feet away from her feet was smoking. Looking up she saw John holding his wrist, his rifle on the ground, and a rock not to far away from him.
"That is enough!" a voice bellowed. She cried out as John grabbed her arm roughly, yanking her around pulling her against him hard. He grabbed a knife from his boot and leveled it to her throat. Gabriel with rifle aimed and in hand gradually descended the veranda stairs. " A word from the wise," He said slowly, his eyes flashing dangerously. "I don't miss. Let her go."
"She's a Brit. They should all die, they killed my family." John cried pressing the knife closer to Cora's neck. "I'll be avenged.'
"By killing her?"
"Yes."
"Don't be daft man, you can't possibly think that killing one innocent woman will make up for the murder of your family, and if you would give your head a good shake you would realize that."
"She's a Brit, her fathers a red coat. British killed my family."
"This isn't the way. She has nothing to do with it. I'm a soldier with the Continental army. This British woman gave me and many of our officer's care." Cora stared at Gabriel. She felt the cool sharp metal against her throat. Gabriel moved forward and John jerked her back a sharp pain telling her that his knife and nicked her throat. She gasped and her hands flew up to his hand, trying to pull his hand away.
"Stay there!" John cried insanely.
"I can assure you sir, I have no reason to move." Gabriel said calmly. "It would however, behoove you to release that woman." John stared at him, obviously weighing his options. Gabriel looked him square in the eye completely prepared to pull the trigger. Slowly John lowered his knife and flung Cora away. She landed unceremoniously in a heap on the ground, clutching her neck.
"You're a Patriot then." He said.
"That's right." Gabriel replied. "Go home. Your cause here has expired." John stared at him for a long time, obviously thinking. Then he turned, mumbled an apology and left. Gabriel looked down at Cora and hurried over to her. "Are you alright?" he asked. Cora just stared at the knife on the ground, struggling to breathe. She couldn't stop trembling. All she knew was the feeling of the metal in her throat. Thinking that that was it, she was dead. "Cora." He tried again. She didn't answer him. She couldn't hear him. She couldn't do much of anything. "Cora." He called again. Tears blurred her vision; a trembling hand came to her mouth as she tried to stop crying. Gabriel placed a hand on her shoulder and shook her hard. "Cora!" he shouted.
"Yes." She whispered, her voice choked with tears.
"Are you alright?" he asked.
"Yes, I'm fine." She replied and fighting down everything she shakily got to her feet and he led her inside.
************
Later that night, Gabriel was sitting on the couch in the sitting room reading, his feet propped up on a stool, his legs crossed at the ankles. Cora walked in, and started stroking the fire. He watched her as she moved. Noticing the purpose in her movements as if she were concentrating much too hard on them. She straightened up and brushed some hair away from her face and stood there staring at the hearth and he watched in admiration from a distance as the flames flickered across her face sending different shades of light across her features. She blinked as if to shake herself out of a trance and walked over to him.
"Brandy?" she asked.
"Please." He replied. He noticed that her voice wasn't as calm as it usually was and she never quite met his eyes. Her voice seemed to tremble as if she were on the verge of tears. As she poured the liquor into the glass, a clinking sound caught his ear. Looking down he saw that her hand was trembling violently and she was spilling brandy everywhere. "Cora." He whispered.
"I'm fine." She said, her voice quivering as she continued to attempt to pour, and he placed one of his hands over hers gently, silently ordering her to be still as he removed the bottle from her hand.
"Your not fine." He said gently. "Come on sit down." He removed his feet from the stool and set her down on the chair. She landed with a shaky sigh, as she pressed the back of a quivering-brandy-covered hand against her mouth and closed her eyes. She wanted to cry. She wanted to fall apart so badly but she knew that if she did, if she started to cry, she would probably never stop. So she tried to push it down, tried to fight her fear, but she couldn't. Her shoulders quavered and she covered her face with one hand as she gave into her tears. She hunched over sobbing violently unable to stop. Gabriel stared at her. He had no idea what to do. He hated seeing her cry. He hated seeing women cry period, which was why he had always had trouble delivering news to parents of their child's death. So he did the only thing he knew how to do, even thought he knew that it would offer little consolation. He gingerly wrapped his arms around her and she collapsed against him after a moment's resistance. His embrace tightened and she buried her face in his chest crying bitterly. She wept and wept until her bones ached and her eyes were dry. Until she could cry no more. She pushed him away gently and wiped her tears.
"I'm so sorry." She whispered.
"For what." Gabriel asked incredulously.
"Who is the doctor here, you or I?"