Page 94 of Beyond the Lavender Fields
Gilles halted and waved on the crewmen carrying the trunk. “Hurry!” He couldn’t make out Martel’s words, only his father’s responses, but he could only imagine the Jacobin’s fury at being denied. Gilles pointed to others of the crew. “Come help. Take it down right side first.”
“I do not want you getting in the way of my crew. Of course you will understand.” Père’s voice held such calm, almost to the point of being patronizing.
Gilles’s limbs threatened to give out as he hurled himself down the ladder after the trunk. He didn’t have much time, but he had to see her.
They made their way to the belly of the ship, and the conversation on the dock faded. Gilles blinked as his eyes adjusted to the blackness. A small lantern sat in one corner behind a row of crates with three forms surrounding it. “Over there,” he said. “Gently.”
Madame Daubin started weeping before the trunk touched the deck. The crew backed away, and Gilles dropped to his knees. Bruises he hadn’t remembered collecting protested the action. He fished in his pocket for the key, still panting from the effort to get to the brig.
Gilles shoved the key into the lock and twisted, his heart wrenching with it. He threw open the lid.
Inside, clothes had shifted. Gilles tore them away, revealing Caroline curled up with her arms covering her head. “Caroline?” She wasn’t moving.Pitié. He reached for her. “Caroline!”
She moaned. Her arms slowly pulled away. Even in the dim light he could see the redness around her eyes. She stiffly lifted her head, and Gilles helped her sit up inside the trunk before crushing her to him. A dozen pains flared through his body, but none so sharp as the one in his chest.
“Are you hurt?” With that fall, she’d have to at least be bruised.
She clutched his coat, her entire frame shaking, and buried her face in his shoulder. “My head, my side, but nothing terrible.” Even as she tried to brush it aside, her voice quivered.
“I’m so sorry,” he choked, eyes burning. “I should have tied those knots.”
Madame Daubin cried her daughter’s name, but she was quickly hushed by her husband. “A moment, Angelique. Wait.”
“Are we safe?” Caroline whispered, arms encircling his waist.
Gilles squeezed her tighter. This moment of wholeness with her pressed against him. He had only moments left. For her to be safe, he had to go. “You will be,” he murmured, lips grazing her neck. “I promise.”
They sat in the darkness holding onto each other until her shaking stilled. He felt down her arms. She didn’t flinch. Then he ran his hands down her sides, praying nothing was broken, but he couldn’t feel anything amiss through her stays. “Can you stand?” He stumbled to his feet, gritting his teeth, and bent to help her up.
“I think I fared better than you did.” She grasped his hands and let him guide her out of the trunk. “What happened?”
“Monsieur Gilles.” Laurent’s voice carried down the ladder. “That man will not leave. He is starting to make threats.”
Always ruining his moments with Caroline. He would curse Martel until his dying day. “I’ll be above shortly,” Gilles said.
Caroline’s eyes widened. “Who?”
“Our favorite Jacobin.” Gilles closed his eyes. Another farewell. How many of these would he have with Caroline?
“We owe you our lives, Étienne,” Monsieur Daubin said from his seat. “I don’t know how we will ever repay you for helping a family who believes so differently from you.”
Gilles tightened his grip on Caroline’s hands. “Doing what is right is more important than who is right, I think.”
No one spoke for a moment. At least this would be the final goodbye. After tomorrow morning, he knew for certain he would not have to do this again. He turned to go.
She stopped him by taking his face in her hands. Her thumbs smoothed over his cheeks, and he realized they were wet. She brushed back the unruly curls he could never hope to tame, her touch burning in beautiful, longing ways.
“Until we meet again,” she said. The faint light reflected in her fierce eyes and played along those full lips. How he wanted kiss them one last time.
Gilles smiled weakly. If only he could hope to meet her again. “Adieu.” He pulled away, meaning to race up the stairs but barely succeeding to hobble. He paused on the ladder before clearing the hatch. A moment to catch his breath, to clear his mind of all the ache—both in his heart and body—and he was ready to disembark. Martel would spring at the slightest hint of weakness.
“That man is persistent.” Père stood at the rail, looking down the gangplank.
Gilles moved to his side. On the dock below, Martel paced like a hound who’d cornered his prey but could not get to it. “Thank you for your help,” Gilles said softly. He owed his father more than that but had no more words.
“You seem a bit depressed,mon fils.”
Gilles cleared his throat. “How can anyone not be, with this disaster we’ve made?” He waved a hand toward the city. He’d have to go straight to his great-uncle’s office and make a show of throwing himself into his work. And he couldn’t let on that his limbs felt ready to fall off.
