Rafe had retrieved the knife from the man’s body and brought it back to the ship. He hefted it into his hand and slid it into the pack. Then he surveyed the rest of its contents. They must travel light and be able to hide at a moment’s notice.
“I’m coming with you.”
Rafe turned his head. He had barely heard the door open and Daphne enter the cabin. She stood near the desk with her hands crossed over her middle.
“No. You’re not,” he answered simply, hefting the bag over his shoulder.
Daphne’s feet were braced apart and she had a determined look in her eye. “Don’t make me sneak behind and follow you, Rafe.”
He swiveled around to face her and stared her down. “Don’t make me tie you to the mast, Daphne.”
She plunked her hands on her hips. “You should know by now that I’ll do exactly as I please.”
He tugged at the strap to the pack. “Why are you hell-bent to get into danger? I cannot protect you. I already told you.”
“And I already told you that I don’t need your protection.” Daphne’s voice rose. “I’ve had to watch my two older brothers fight for their country while I’ve been forced to stay home and wring my hands and worry. I’m tired of wringing my hands. Donald taught me Russian for a reason. He thought it would be useful someday. And it has been. I’m going with you to avenge my brother’s death and you’re going to have to kill me to stop me.”
Rafe clenched his jaw. He glanced toward the wall. “Damn it, Daphne.”
“You’re not going to kill me, are you?” She tapped her booted foot along the wooden planks.
He blew out a breath. “Of course I’m not going to kill you.”
She inclined her head. “Then I’m coming with you.”
* * *
They set out the next morning. Rafe had secured three mounts and was able to secure a fourth for Daphne’s use. They intended to find the Frenchmen’s camp, surround it, observe it, and then move in for the arrest. There were four of them or at least there had been. If Rafe, Salty, and Grim took them by surprise with pistols, they should be able to overcome and arrest all four.
The sun was beginning to set by the time their small group arrived at the little town north of Amiens. The journey had been uneventful and silent. Their orders were to arrest the Frenchmen but the villains might not agree to be taken alive. Rafe wished for the hundredth time that Daphne was safely back on the ship.
They halted about a half mile outside of the town, got off the horses, and took a drink from their canteens. Rafe shared his water with Daphne while images of their night together flew through his mind. He shook them away. There could be no distractions during this arrest. He must concentrate.
After they’d refreshed themselves, they remounted. “Their camp is on the outskirts of town on the east,” Rafe said. “We’ll find a place in the forest to stay until nightfall.”
Another twenty minutes’ journey found them deep in the forest on the eastern part of the town. Rafe chose a spot where they made their own camp.
Salty and Daphne tied three of the horses to nearby trees while Grim started a fire.
Rafe remained mounted. “I’m going out to their cabin to see what I can learn.”
Grim and Salty nodded.
“Be careful,” Daphne whispered.
Rafe nodded, too. He tossed his pack on the ground near the fire and left without a sound.
* * *
Daphne spent the next hour pacing around the campsite worrying about Rafe. He was alone out there with at least four men nearby who wanted him dead.
“Come sit,” Salty finally said to her. “You’ll exhaust yourself if you keep pacing.”
Daphne made her way over to the campfire and took a seat on a pile of pine needles next to Salty and Grim. Both men remained quiet with determined looks on their faces. Daphne tried to mimic their determination. It would be ever so helpful to replace the fear and uncertainty that gnawed at her belly with steely resolve. And courage. Because ever since she’d delivered her I-can-do-this speech to Rafe, she’d been overcome with fear. Was this how brave men felt? It had to be. They had to have indecision and doubt and do what had to be done regardless. She’d resolved to see this through and she would. No matter how much she believed she might retch.
Grim had assumed Cook’s duties. He hovered over the fire cooking a rabbit he’d shot with a bow and arrow earlier. Daphne clutched Rafe’s canteen. The water was warm and tasted tinny, but she was grateful for it. No dainty cups of tea in situations like this. Grim handed her a bit of meat.
“Thank you,” Daphne said, taking the food from him. She hadn’t realized how starved she’d been until they’d stopped. None of them had eaten since gulping down some hard biscuits this morning. Taking a bit of the greasy meat, she scooted over and pressed her back against a nearby tree. She looked at the man who had transformed into Rafe’s trusted second mate. Even though they were alone, she kept her voice low as Rafe had taught her to. “I suppose you’re not to be Grim much longer after this mission is complete.”
Grim rubbed the back of his neck. He, too, kept his voice low. “I’ll still be Grim. It’s what they call me. But I’ll go back to being a general.”
Daphne’s eyes nearly bulged from her skull. She choked on the second bit of rabbit she’d put into her mouth. “You’re a general?”
Grim laughed and tipped his hat. “General Mark Grimaldi, at your service.”
Daphne turned to Salty. “Salty, don’t tell me. You’re an admiral.”
Salty glanced over his shoulder and grinned. “No. Not quite. But I am a lieutenant. Lieutenant Richard Hartwell, at your service.”
Grim handed Daphne more meat and she also ate it with her fingers. No extravagant place settings in the forest. “I thought you were going to say your last name had the word ‘salt’ in it.”
“No, I just liked the name,” Salty tossed over his shoulder.
Daphne watched the two men. “You’re both dear to Captain Cavendish. I know he relies on you.”
“And we on him,” Salty replied.
Daphne glanced down at her lap. “I want you to know I will not be a burden here. I intend to help, not hurt.”
Grim smiled at her. “If I didn’t think that, my lady, I wouldn’t have allowed you to come. Sometimes Cavendish needs more help than he’ll admit.”
Daphne returned his smile and spent the next few moments wondering if General Grimaldi had heard her speech earlier.
“And I’ve seen you throw a knife,” Salty said with a laugh.
Rafe stepped through the nearby bushes just then. Daphne nearly gasped. She hadn’t heard a sound. In fact, today she’d seen him as the cunning spy he was. The man had eyes like a hawk and reflexes like a cat. Had he heard what Grim had said? If so, he didn’t give any indication. Did he think she would help him? No. Even after her convincing little speech, Rafe was certain she would be more trouble than help. She just wished she could convey to him that this is what she had to do.
Rafe took the canteen that Daphne silently offered him and sat on the far side of the fire. “According to the correspondence, the camp is a half mile in that direction.” He pointed east.
“Did you find it?” Salty asked.
“I did,” Rafe replied.
Both of the other men’s faces relaxed a bit.
Daphne’s gaze snapped to Rafe’s face. “And are they there? The men we’re looking for?”
Rafe took a swig of water. He nodded. “They’re there. I saw them. All four of them. I could never forget their faces.”
He had a haunted look in his eyes. It couldn’t have been easy for him to have to confront the men who had tortured him.
Daphne blew out a deep breath. “Do you think they’ve been alerted to our arrival? They wouldn’t have heard from Anton and Viktor since they were arrested.”
Rafe rubbed a hand across his forehead. “That’s not unusual for them. Their correspondence was no more than monthly and it’s been le
ss than a fortnight. But to be doubly sure, we asked Jane Upton to forge a letter to them indicating that they had found me and were bringing me back in one week’s time.”
Daphne’s eyes rounded but she nodded. That was the letter Cass had mentioned. The clever Jane had spent months studying handwriting and knew how to disguise her own to look like someone else’s.
“Besides,” Rafe continued. “Our surveillance indicated that there were only the five others working together in London. Two are dead and Anton, Viktor, and the other are in gaol. There was no one else to alert them.”
“Agreed,” said Salty, more serious than Daphne had ever seen him. “They won’t know we’re here. We found Anton and Viktor’s last letter before they were able to post it. They indicated they had everything under control. Mrs. Upton used that and added to it.”
“The letters weren’t in Russian, were they?” Daphne asked.
“No, surprisingly they were all written in French. But their contents were innocuous. To someone who didn’t know what they were about, there would be nothing illicit to read if the letters were found.”
Continuing to ignore her inner lady, Daphne finished her rabbit and wiped her hands on her breeches. “They won’t have seen the smoke from our fire?”
“Perhaps,” Grim said, handing a chunk of rabbit to Rafe, who took it eagerly. “But these woods are no strangers to travelers. It shouldn’t be suspicious to them.”
Daphne stood and dusted off her thighs. “Very well. What’s the plan?”
Using his free hand, Rafe grabbed a stick and drew a circle in the dirt near the fire. Daphne moved near him to watch. “They’re in a cabin, here.” He pointed to a smaller circle he made near the center of the larger one. “From what I could tell, there are only the four of them.”
He drew a line on the far side of the smaller circle. “There is a tree line here. Daphne, this is where you’ll stay.” He glanced at the sky. “The sun has set. We’ll go as soon as we finish eating.”
“I want to go to the cabin with you,” Daphne said. “If they say something in Russian, I can help.”
“No. You’ll be of more help to us outside. If the three of us are hurt or captured, we’ll need you to ride like the devil’s after you back to the ship and bring help.”
Daphne knew Rafe had no intention of being captured. He was likely using the story as an excuse to keep her out of harm’s way. But she supposed someone might need to stay back in case there was trouble. She would do her duty.
“Here.” He handed her a pistol. “If anyone other than one of us comes near you, shoot them.”
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
Rafe led the way through the thick forest. Daphne was directly behind him, then Salty, then Grim. Rafe pushed branches out of the way and kicked at fallen tree limbs. They all remained silent, using hand signals and nods to communicate. The going was slow as Rafe breathed in the scent of the pine trees and summer flowers. God willing, Daphne would be safe if she remained at the edge of the forest once they arrived. He didn’t have time to keep an eye on her and arrest these men. He needed to concentrate on the task at hand and worrying about her would keep him from it. He could only pray that she’d listen to him for once. Damn stubborn woman.
The walk wasn’t long. They’d left their horses tied back at the campsite. It would make their group more nimble and much less conspicuous. As they trudged through the forest, Rafe’s head turned at any little sound, any twig snap, any birdcall. He was on edge, because of the mission and more so because of Daphne’s presence.
The smoke coming from the clearing stopped them. Rafe led them all to the edge of the tree line where they crouched down to watch the small house that sat nestled in the clearing.
“Between Calais and Paris,” he said. “The perfect spot for traitors and thieves.”
He crouched low and watched through the window. A fire inside the cabin illuminated the interior. One of the men stood in front of the window holding a mug and laughing. The Frenchmen appeared to be in the middle of a meal.
The laughing man turned and Rafe saw his face. He swallowed, hard.
Gabriel, they had called him. Rafe would never forget that name, or that face. It was the countenance of a man who had beaten and tortured him for months. The past came rushing toward him, kaleidoscoping time and making his vision tunnel.
Groans of pain rang in his ears. They were Donald’s, not his own. Donald Swift. The man had given his life. He’d been honorable till the end. He hadn’t given up a single secret. So they killed him. Then they focused their torture on Rafe. They knew he was the spy, the one who had the most information. They’d said Donald was nothing more than a useless aristocrat.
Rafe swallowed. Donald had been more than that. Much more. He was a brother, a son, and a friend. He had more nobility for what he’d endured than any title would ever be able to bestow.
Rafe narrowed his eyes on Gabriel through the window. These were the men who had stolen months of his life and killed the earl.
He was going to destroy them.
“On my count,” Rafe whispered, without removing his gaze from the house.
Salty and Grim nodded.
“Daphne,” Rafe warned in a voice that was low but commanding. “I needn’t remind you how important it is to follow orders during a mission. Stay here.”
“I will, Captain,” Daphne promised. At least she wasn’t going to argue with him at a time like this. Thank God.
“Three, two … one.” The three men all moved but remained crouched as they emerged from the bushes. They each took a different position. Rafe went straight for the front door of the cabin. Salty went to the left and Grim to the right.
* * *
Daphne watched from the tree line lying belly-first on the ground with her heart lodged in her throat. Her jaw was clamped so tight it ached. Soon the men were only shadows in the darkness. She would stay where Rafe asked her. If something went terribly wrong inside, she might be of more use out here. But only moments had gone by before she severely regretted her decision. It was much worse watching and waiting and not knowing what was happening.
Time seemed to not only slow but to stop entirely. Her knees ached and so did her chest from unconsciously holding her breath. The chirping of the bugs in the brush nearby and the sound of a few birds overhead, coupled with the thud of her own swallows, were the only noises. The cabin was a dark smudge in the distance and her three friends had long ago blurred into the large shadow.
Daphne mentally counted to one hundred.
She did it again, closing her eyes and praying for their safe return.
Moments later, shots rang out and Daphne’s heart plummeted into her boots. She bit the back of her shaking hand, then leaned up on her elbows frantically searching the darkness. Smoke began to billow from the back of the cabin and flames were soon shooting out, too. The house was on fire and all she could see were shadows fleeing the burning building. But which were Rafe and his team and which were the spies? Had Rafe been shot? Was he dead? Wounded? Did he need her?
A group of men headed straight for her position. It had to be Rafe’s team. How else would they know where she was? But until she knew for certain, she remained silent on her belly in the pine needles to remain out of sight.
“Did you hit him?” came a voice that was decidedly not one of Rafe’s men.
It took her a moment to realize the voice was speaking in Russian but with a French accent. Odd but they must have been speaking in that language in case Rafe and the others could hear. They knew the Englishmen would speak fluent French.
“I’m not sure. I think so,” came another voice. “I’m sure I hit one of them.”
“Damn English. We should have killed that bastard when we had the chance,” came a third voice.
They had all spoken in Russian. Daphne searched the darkness behind them. She didn’t see any more shadows. Were Rafe and his men dying in the fire? She had to go search, to look for them. Help. But if she moved now,
the Frenchmen would surely see her.
She glanced at the pistol that lay in the grass not an inch in front of her face. Blast. She couldn’t shoot them. She was an awful shot, not to mention she only had one bullet. She shifted her leg and the knife moved against her ankle. She allowed a smile to spread across her face. She’d taken a knife from the ship and placed it in her boot, but when she’d looked through Rafe’s bag while he’d been out scouting, she’d replaced it with the one she preferred. The one she’d killed Billy with. She had a lot of experience with that knife. And she was glad for it now.
She clenched her fist, steeling her resolve. By God, one of these men had killed her brother and might have killed Rafe. She might be outnumbered. They might have pistols, too, but with the knife she could take at least one of them with her. She reached down into her boot and slowly drew the knife.
With the handle clutched in her shaky, clammy palm, she waited until the men had entered the tree line. She made out their shadows against the trees. One of them had a torch that must have been lit by a stick of wood in the cabin fire. There were four of them. Two on one side of her, two on the other. She said another brief prayer. It had been pure luck that they hadn’t stepped on her.
As quietly as she could, she turned and watched as they began their retreat into the forest. She moved up and crouched on her knees. She must act quickly. The torchbearer was the best target because she could see him most clearly. She waited for him to line up with a tree, to mark how quickly he was moving. Her breathing was rapid, shallow.
“For Donald,” she whispered just before she expertly flipped her knife through the air.
The sound of the knife colliding with flesh was a dull thump and the man doubled over with a scream. He fell to the ground in a heap and the other three men came rushing back to lean over him.
“Are you all right, Michel?” someone asked in Russian.
Michel’s voice was taut with pain. “I’ve been hit. They must be near. Run!”
The Irresistible Rogue Page 24
