Updrift (33 page)

She hesitated outside their room, stretching to kiss him on the cheek. “Thank you for dinner,” she said with polite, sleepy warmth, then put her key in the door. Peter bowed before leaving.

Gabe was not in their chambers, she was sad, but unsurprised to see. This non-interaction was just another in a long line of them illustrating the change in their relationship, one she was unable to explain and could not understand no matter how intensely she thought about it. She only knew something indefinable and solid between them had shifted, and with this shift, her faith and conviction in their capacity for happiness had leaked away.

Gabe appeared at her side, seemingly out of nowhere, which startled her. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

Gabe was as optimistic and relaxed as she’d seen him in months, and she was surprised by his tenderness when he wrapped her in an embrace. He buried his face in her neck, whispered an apology for being gone, and told her she was beautiful.

Before she could respond, he backed away, and the futility of her yearning—for their intimacy, for their marriage, for the husband she thought she knew—overcame her. The fullness of her frustration over what they’d lost nearly choked her. She regarded him with her eyes full, her silent, pained question swirling around them like accusations.

Don’t you want me?

He did not answer her but she felt his emotional retreat into himself, which left her with nothing more than his carefully composed expression, a two-dimensional picture. He rested his forehead against hers and closed his eyes before moving away from her. “I’m sorry.”

“Gabe.”

He stopped but did not face her. “Yes?” His voice was barely audible.

Hurt, anger, and apology emanated from her to fill the entire room. “I’m sorry. For whatever I’ve done to cause…
this
. I’m so sorry.”

He came to her and gazed at her intently. “You aren’t doing anything, Kate. It’s everything else, I promise.” He drew her head to his shoulder. She remained stiff and resistant. “It’s not us,” he insisted.

She started to cry. “I know, but it feels like us, and I hate it.” She pulled back to plead with him. “I want to go back. I don’t care if they’re looking for us. Let’s go home. We’ll be careful.”

She felt his attempt at influence but this time he was only partially successful. Her bitter feelings were replaced, but with resolution, not hope. He kissed her forehead and told her he’d be back later. The door clicked softly behind him as he left.

She was used to him leaving at odd hours by now, and she no longer questioned where he went or what time he planned to be back. But without him by her, her thoughts cleared, cycling as always to their marriage and her gnawing dissatisfaction over it. Her trust in her husband, she feared, was irrevocably destroyed.

When she tried define exactly why Gabe had changed, she concluded he was, understandably, distracted. And while she still felt his craving for her, his devotion was different, their affinity for each other heavier and too strained. Given the futility of her efforts to date to change this dynamic, she resigned herself to the possibility of never again sharing the emotional connection she’d initially taken for granted. And if she didn’t know why those feelings were gone, she also couldn’t see how it mattered. The end result was the same.

But she wasn’t going to be able to tolerate how they were, not for the rest of her life. She decided she would suffer no more melodrama from herself with this acknowledgement. Perhaps Gabe was right, and she would feel differently after the baby was born…but she couldn’t hope she’d change.

She went to the window and leaned on her elbows to feel the wind on her face. Her mind was racing in spite of her exhaustion. She caressed her rounded belly, wondering for the thousandth time where she and Gabe had gotten off course, and she thought of her mother. After George’s death, Cara had shouldered her responsibilities alone as parent and provider, in addition to and in spite of her diminished emotional resources. In doing so, Cara had set an example Kate viewed as a moral standard for parental behavior, and she would never forget how her mother soldiered on for her sake. She thought about some undefined point in the future, how once the threat hovering over siren society was resolved, she could go home…and she realized she wanted to do this alone, without Gabe. How sad such a prospect held the appeal it did, how freeing the idea of separation felt. But she was absolutely sure she would not stay by him with things as they were, not just for her sake, but also for her child’s.

“I will make a happier life for us than this, little baby,” she vowed.

Gabe avoided interaction with the Loughlins his first days at the palace. His new colleagues told him Peter had been exhibiting strange behavior, and until he knew more, he didn’t want to risk exposure by being too forward or inquisitive. Especially with a psychologically unstable siren running the show.

He maintained his cloak without attracting attention, and he observed everyone carefully. He also studied the layout of the castle, including the locations of the private royal chambers. After two days on the job, he knew the castle in its entirety and had memorized Peter’s and Kenna’s routines. He watched patiently for his chance to search out Kate.

Waiting was the hardest. Much of his acceptance by the rest of the staff, his cover story included, depended on a calm, capable representation of himself, attributes he could not feel if he thought too much on the real reason he was there. If he were to become agitated or let the ferocity of his anger show, the other guards would evict him from the premises. Fortunately, he was just good enough at cloaking—and just lucky enough to avoid scrutiny—to maintain his front.

On the Thursday afternoon before Peter’s wedding, he found his chance. A harried staff member, charged with too many assignments and not enough time stopped him on her way down the hall. “Charles!” she called, eyeing him exactly as a predator does its prey. “I need your help.” She grabbed his lapel and pulled him along with her as she hurried toward the reception hall. She handed him an envelope. “This is for Peter’s fiancée. She’s in his suite. Do you know where that is?”

Gabe successfully represented himself as he should, with adequate but not precise knowledge of the castle layout, and as someone only blandly interested in helping. He accepted the note and progressed toward Peter’s chambers at a measured pace in spite of the rush of adrenaline he felt.

He knew Peter was not likely to be there but he could not knock on his door in case he was; Peter would find him out in mere seconds. He approached the rooms cautiously, reaching with his senses to verify Peter’s—and Kate’s—presence. He could not tell if Peter was within.

But Gabe froze where he stood as an icy clarity stunned him into immobility. Kate
was
here. He extended himself to scan for the presence of other guards, and again for Peter himself, careful to protect himself as he did so. His immediate area was clear of everyone who was not cloaking. He refocused his attention to the spot where he knew her to be.

His misery of the past few months evaporated, euphoria taking its place as the distinct life force that was his and Kate’s flooded him. His relief was so exquisite, he wept. He let the sensation pull him forward until he was sure of its source, until he reached the door he knew divided them. With tremendous effort, he held himself back to conduct another scan. Barging in could jeopardize her, him, their child, so he made a thorough evaluation of the room she was in from where he stood.

She was either alone or with Peter, and as he would not be able to sense Peter, he concentrated on Kate, hoping her thoughts would confirm her solitude.

Gabe
. She felt him, and she yearned for him. She was confused and angry and lonesome, and ashamed of her desire to be free of this place but resolved to leave it. She didn’t understand why, didn’t know she’d been kidnapped. He felt her moving physically closer to the door and risked a question.
Are you alone
?

Yes. Something’s different. You’re different
. She started crying.
I haven’t felt this since before we came here
.
God, what is wrong with me, with us?

He burst through the door and folded her in his arms. “I’m right here. It’s going to be okay.” He buried his face in her hair, her neck, inhaling her scent, her touch, everything. “God. Dear God. I thought I’d lost you.” In the next moments as he held her, he apprehended what she knew of her situation: how Peter had tried to blame her feelings on the pregnancy; her frustration over the unfilled space in their union Peter couldn’t replicate; and her despair over a loss she couldn’t define, one that made her feel dead inside. She missed everyone and longed more than anything to be out of her isolation. She missed him, although this made no sense to her.

She also planned to leave him.

He was right; Peter was cloaking as him when he was with her.

He could tell her nothing. Even this visit, if she thought of it in front of Peter, would put her in danger. He frantically searched for something reassuring he could say, wrestled with his preoccupation to get away before he could be discovered, and he wished desperately he could stay by her.

“I have to go,” he iterated, more for himself than her. He was more sorry than he’d ever been in his life these words were true. “You’re doing nothing wrong, Kate…” He grit his teeth in frustration as he tried to think of anything he could do to help them both feel better, until he had an idea. He held her face in his hands and let their bond pervade them both, filling the drought of their separation to overflowing, eradicating any question what they had together was real. He heard how her doubts had been fed, how she focused on herself and did not dwell on Peter.

Kate closed her eyes and begged him stay with her. But he couldn’t, and so instead, with all of his being, he told her a beautiful lie.

It’s just this situation. You’re fine, we’re fine, and we will have the life we want.

Yes
, she thought, so trusting, so desperate.

The next thought he planted required all of his influence.
You’re dreaming this. I’m not really here, but you can believe everything I’ve said
.

Then kiss me, make love to me
.
If I’m dreaming, it won’t matter
.

He kissed her, shuddering at the pleasure coursing through both of them. His heart thrilled at the knowledge he intuited during this exchange; Peter had stayed out of her bed. If, miraculously, they found their way out of this situation alive, she would not be preyed upon, hopefully, by remorse. He didn’t care if she’d been part of a harem, but he suspected she would be bothered if she thought she’d been unfaithful. Gabe sighed, grateful for this one, small mercy.

He sensed a guard coming, and although the mere idea of leaving was torture, he pulled back and smiled at her.
You are dreaming me. Everything is going to be all right, Kate
. With supreme effort, he stumbled backward several feet. She did not budge from her spot, her eyes closed, a small smile on her lips.

If he had spoken the words, if he had just whispered
I love you
to her in parting, the truth of it would have obliterated his carefully constructed illusion and thundered like a cannon around them. The presence of their bond would have reverberated to fill the palace, shattering the lie he’d created to protect her. Painfully, he helped her distance herself from him as he ran. Her
I love you
drifted from her in gentle echoes, and the effect was physical, causing his knees to buckle. He recovered and ran faster to escape her pull, ran because he couldn’t stand to be so close and not be by her. And he fled to protect his cloak, which he desperately needed to maintain now if he and Kate meant to escape.

* * * *

Peter found Kate by the window. She stared dreamily at the landscape, hugging herself and emanating a strange joy he did not understand. He moved closer to her to examine this perplexing phenomenon. He was pleased with her contentment but confused as to its provenance.

Kate’s eyes shone as she clasped his hand in hers. “I just had a daydream about us.” She pressed her lips to his palm. “It felt like it used to, and you told me we’re going to be okay, and I believed you. I still believe you.”

He became deathly still, sensing something odd. Not from her words, but in what she felt. The void, the nagging space he’d been unable to fill with his deception, was missing. She felt whole, the dull, pleasant veneer she’d constructed, which they’d both relaxed into accepting, was gone. He forced himself to remain calm and smiled carefully so as not to interfere with the accuracy of her response. “Where were we?” He made his voice controlled, polite.

“Here, in this room. You came through that door.” She pointed. “You said you thought you’d lost me.” She emitted a small, sad laugh. “Until a few minutes ago, I felt lost.”

He pivoted toward the door, his mind racing through possible explanations that did not include Gabriel Blake’s physical presence in his castle. “What’s the matter? It was just a dream, Gabe.” Kate placed her hand on his arm.

At her touch, his lie fell completely, irreparably apart. Gabe was here, somewhere, somehow, he was sure of it. He either knew Peter had taken her or he would very shortly. And he would have told others.

For Kate’s sake, he kept up his pretense, at least in terms of how he appeared to her. She was already hurting and sad despite his hope he could one day make her happy. Perversely, appearing as the man who had come to destroy him was the only reassurance he could offer her.

Gabe had to have picked up some cloaking ability, he concluded. He couldn’t be very good at it yet, because he couldn’t cloak at all a few months ago. But he had to have achieved enough proficiency to get into the palace. Peter would find him and know how he’d gotten in, and he would do so this very minute. He would end this nightmare proactively. He would call him out, and he would do it now.