CHAPTER 45

BEFORE EVEN A WEEK had passed, Hannah was already questioning her decision to send Gabriel away. She missed him with an intensity that only grew stronger each day.

In just a fortnight, it would be Christmas. And then the beginning of a new year. A memory of the last Christmas they spent together almost doubled her over with sadness. Harold had been alive. She had suspected she was enceinte but hadn't known for sure.

Now Harold was gone, and she had sent Gabriel away. But at least she had her baby in her arms. She lifted him closer and pressed kisses on his downy cheeks. Sammy smiled and stared at her. His eyes resembled Gabriel's so much... And they looked at her with the same tenderness and adoration.

Perhaps there was a way they could be together? He could visit, or they could meet in secret somewhere... A sense of guilt washed over her as she realized how unjust that was to him. Gabriel didn't want that. And to be honest, neither did she. He didn't deserve to be a secret.

She put her son to her breast and the little one suckled with great enthusiasm, his tiny hand grabbing possessively. He was growing up so fast. Another wave of remorse hit her. Gabriel was missing out on so many moments with his child.

Nonsense. Everyone knew men didn't concern themselves with babies. It was just a year. He would get to enjoy his son as a toddler. When he could play and learn to ride and do all the other things boys did. Right now, Sam only drank milk and slept. Not very exciting at all.

Except it was. She treasured every smile, every gurgle. Every insignificant thing related to her child was a marvel to her. And she knew Gabriel would feel the same. He had said as much. Maybe she could invite him to visit for Christmas? And perhaps they could work something out? Figure out a way to be together.

Yes, she would write the letter right after feeding Samuel.

And so she did. She invited him to spend Christmas with them. Told him she wanted to revisit their last conversation. That she regretted her answer. It was all true and as much as she dared to put in a letter. She hoped it was enough...

But after a week with no response to her invitation, she had to assume Gabriel was not coming. Was he upset at her? She had hurt him with her refusal to marry him. But he had caught her by surprise! His proposal had been so unexpected! And on the same day she had buried Harold, and Blackwell had threatened her. She had been mad with grief, fear, and exhaustion. How could anyone think clearly under those circumstances?

And now? Was she ready to give a different response now? She was still afraid, but nothing was worse than this absolute silence from Gabriel.

Good God, what if he had given up on her? What if he had decided to find another woman to marry? No. He wouldn't do that. Would he? They loved each other. They had a son together. He loved his son. Except she had hurt Gabriel. And refused his proposal. And denied him his son.

Adding to her worries was the fact that Blackwell had made no move against her yet. She had expected to have a barrage of solicitors knocking at her door the day after the burial, accusing her of adultery and dragging her to court. But that hadn't happened. She should be relieved. Maybe Blackwell had realized the futility of a lawsuit, had seen reason and decided not to waste the comfortable inheritance Harold had left him in useless litigation.

But she didn't believe that. People like Neil Blackwell didn't give up. She didn't know what form his attack would take, but an attack was forthcoming.

LIFE AT THE FOLLY HAD settled into a comfortable pattern. December had come and gone. A new year had begun, and with it renewed hope and optimism. If it were not for the torture of being so close to Hannah, of seeing her every day from afar and not being able to touch her, he would even say it was a pleasant routine.

Every night, he would visit his son and stay with him. Most nights, Sammy slept through his visits. But sometimes he would wake, and maybe it was his imagination, but his son always seemed happy to see him.

He was such a good baby. Never crying, never making a fuss that would oblige him to leave the room. Gabriel would cradle him in his arms and whisper soothing words. His son would close his fist around his finger, holding him tight, tethering Gabriel to him with chains of love more powerful than iron shackles.

Until he heard the nurse coming to take the baby to Hannah. Then he would slip into the secret corridors and make his way back to the folly, where he slept a few hours. Thakur would come in every other day with food and clean clothes. He had found that being around little Sam meant he needed clean clothes often. Babies were messy. But he didn't mind soiled clothes. He wouldn't change those moments with his son for all the world.

He rather thought that if he had to live here for an entire year, he could adapt. But how much longer until somebody discovered his presence? Not to mention that he was neglecting his responsibilities at his own estate. He tried to do the best he could from here, but even now in winter, when the tasks were fewer, he was running Thakur ragged with the back and forth. Come spring, the situation would be unsustainable.

However, leaving his son's side was not an option. He felt it in his bones: the need to protect him. Maybe it was time to have another conversation with Hannah. A month had passed. Maybe she would be more amenable to his proposal this time. He would have to broach the subject with her again. Even if the thought of another refusal made his heart recoil in pain.

He settled on the padded chair next to the crib as he did every night to stand vigil over his son's sleep. Except that tonight, sleep was weighing heavily over him as well. He had not slept well this morning. There had been a heavy load of estate paperwork to deal with so that Thakur could take it back. The baby's soft breaths lulled him, so he lowered his guard and fell asleep.

GAbrIEL CAME AWAKE with a start. It took him a second to get his bearings. When had he fallen asleep? What had woken him? And then he saw it. A tableau that froze the blood in his veins.

There, silhouetted against the faint moonlight filtering through the window, a shadowy figure loomed over his infant son's crib, just a few steps away. This wasn't Hannah or the nurse. The size and height indicated this was a man. And he was holding a lumpy bundle over the crib. A pillow? Gabriel's brain analyzed the information in a fraction of a second. A surge of primal fury surged through him, propelling him forward. His instinct driving him into action even before his mind recognized the intruder.

Gabriel launched himself at Blackwell, knocking him away from the crib. They crashed to the floor in a tangle of limbs, knocking over a small table, which clattered to the floor with a crash. Having had no warning, Blackwell let out a grunt of surprise that transformed into a snarl of rage.

The baby cried. The irate wail was the most beautiful sound Gabriel had ever heard. It meant his son was alive. He had been in time to stop the tragedy. If he had slept even a minute longer...

Gabriel shook his head, dislodging the terrible thought, and let his fists fly, striking with the efficiency and speed of a trained fighter. But Blackwell was no stranger to brawling. He wrestled back with brute force and pulled a gleaming knife from his coat.

The blade flashed in the moonlight, slicing through the air towards Gabriel. He rolled to a stand and evaded the strike with a swift dodge, feeling the cold rush of displaced air as the knife missed his face by mere inches. Blackwell's eyes gleamed with malice as he lunged again. As Gabriel swerved out of the knife's path, Blackwell changed directions, going towards the crib this time.

Time seemed to slow, lending Gabriel extra speed. He was in front of his son in an instant, blocking Blackwell's attack, catching his wrist, and twisting it with a forceful snap.

"Let go of the knife, and maybe I'll let you live," Gabriel snarled.

It was a lie. He had no intention of allowing Blackwell to leave this room alive. The man was a rabid animal that needed to be put down if his son was ever going to be safe, but he needed to get the madman away from the crib.

Blackwell's abrupt laugh was maniacal. "You think I'm a fool? I've not come all this way for nothing."

"You won't get out of here alive," Gabriel promised, shoving him away from the crib and standing between Blackwell and the baby.

"You and your bastard are the only ones who won't get out of here alive. I once got rid of the previous heir. I can do it again."

"You! You killed the duke's son?"

"Not directly," Blackwell gloated. "I merely had to encourage his more reckless pursuits. Then it was just a matter of tampering with a wheel here, a rigging there...but he got into that phaeton accident all by himself."

The blackguard's obvious pride at the devastation he had caused sickened Gabriel. This rat had been lurking, shadowing the duke's life for decades. He would put an end to it tonight. But he couldn't fight freely with the baby in the room. Where was the nurse? Shouldn't the noise and the baby's cries have awakened her? Unless she had run for help...or Blackwell had dispensed with her.

Blackwell attacked again, no doubt believing he had the advantage because of the knife. In his arrogance and bloodthirst, he hadn't recognized how outmatched he was. For a moment, both men grappled for control of the weapon, but Gabriel's body moved with the seamless memory drilled into him during countless trainings, honed by years of fighting. He delivered a sharp elbow to Blackwell's jaw, disorienting him, and followed up with a knee to the abdomen. With a final, determined push, swift and efficient, Gabriel wrenched the knife from Blackwell's grasp. He was never more grateful for his time in the army that had prepared him for moments like this

Breathing heavily, Gabriel looked into Blackwell's eyes—eyes filled with fear and hatred—and didn't hesitate. With a powerful thrust, he drove the knife into Blackwell's chest. Blackwell's eyes widened in shock, a gurgled breath escaping his lips before he slumped to the floor, lifeless.

Gabriel stood over the fallen man, his chest heaving, the adrenaline still coursing through his veins. He turned to the crib, his fierce expression softening as he looked at his son. He reached out to lift him, to comfort him as he had done many times. But he immediately checked his movement.

His hands were stained with blood.

Just at that moment, Hannah burst through the door, followed by the nursemaid and a footman.

Her eyes widened at the scene that met her eyes. But she didn't pause for a second as she ran to the crib and gathered their crying son against her chest. Their eyes met over the baby's head. A thousand questions reflected in Hannah's eyes.

He had a lot to explain. And not only to her but also to the authorities that would no doubt have to be notified. But no matter what came his way, at last he was at peace. He could take whatever consequences resulted from his actions. The only thing that mattered was to protect his child at any cost.