Broken Wing by Judith James Page A

questions as best he could, soothed by her touch. As they walked, he realized he had many questions of his own. How did this man they called Gypsy Davey fit with Sarah and her family? How had they lost Jamie in the first place, and why had it taken so long to find him? Had she really been married before? Conditioned to acceptance of whatever fate sent his way, he’d taught himself to be incurious unless a matter was likely to affect him directly. Now he was realizing there were many things he needed to know. “Who is he, Sarah? This man? What is he to your family? Everyone speaks of him.”
    “Davey?”
    “Yes.”
    “Well, he’s been a part of my life for as long as Ican remember. He’s of Huguenot descent, a second cousin on my mother’s side. His family left France for Ireland when the persecutions started. His parents were killed in some futile border skirmish and he came to live with us. I remember him being great fun, and wickedly adventurous. He was like an older brother to me, but he was rather wild, always off with the Gypsies, or getting into some scrape or another. We had some grand adventures together growing up, and of course, he and Ross connected immediately.”
    Gabriel snorted, “That’s a little hard to believe, mignonne.”
    “Oh, but it’s true! They were closer than brothers. They still are. They used to sail and adventure together all the time, but Ross has settled somewhat since… over the past few years. I don’t know that Davey ever will. He’s disgusted with politics and religion and sick of what he’s seen done to the Irish and his own people. He’s called Gypsy Davey for his childhood adventures, and because he’s always restless and moving from place to place. He’s quite proud to call himself a man without country or religion.” She grinned. “That’s terribly convenient for a privateer and a smuggler, you know, as he feels free to take commissions where, and as, he pleases. My brother is seriously worried that he’s becoming too bold. He wasn’t joking about seeing him swing from the neck.”
    Gabriel tried to picture the reserved, immaculate Lord Huntington engaged in pillage and high seasadventure, with little success. “And he lives with you? When he’s not at sea?”
    “He lives with us when he pleases. We are his family, and he is ours.”
    Emboldened, he managed one more question before they were summoned to dinner. “I’ve been meaning to thank you, mademoiselle, for sharing your observatory with me. It was a night I shall never forget. I was wondering if I might visit you again, when the moon is full, to view it with your telescope.”
    “Of course,” she said with a bright smile. “As I’ve told you before, you’re welcome to come whenever you wish.”
    “Thank you, mademoiselle”
    “Sarah, please.”
    “Thank you, Sarah.”
    Feeling in charity with the world, he went in to dinner. Putting aside his fears for Jamie and his alarm at Sarah’s obvious admiration for her handsome cousin, he relaxed and enjoyed the good cheer, ready wit, and fine wine, enthralled as Davey regaled them with tales of battle and adventure, exotic ports, and narrow escapes on the high seas.

    Plagued by a growing restlessness for several daysnow, Gabriel was already waiting for Davey, idly fishing off the dock, when the sun rose the next morning. He was set to work hauling rope, pumping bilges, cleaning decks, and doing other menial labor. Davey’s motley crew greeted him with whistles and catcalls, smirking and blowing kisses. He had no difficulty ignoring them. It wasn’t his habit to concern himself with what others thought. The crew’s opinion meant nothing to him. It wasn’t Davey’s comment that had angered him last night. Under other circumstances, he might have found it amusing. But he’d made it in front of Sarah, and for better or worse, her opinion
did
matter. Somehow, it had come to matter very much.
    It was midday before Davey came and tapped him on the