Chapter Fourteen
Almost two hours later, the drumming horses’ hooves, approaching from behind, drove her off the road. Abandoning Chessy so that the mare would look, hopefully, like a runaway, she darted ahead on foot, until she found a rocky outcrop to hide behind. Hastily, she doused the lantern, and lay waiting, her heart thundering.
The galloping hooves had halted. Peering over the rock, Anna saw the light from several lanterns and a group of men in a huddle some distance down the road.
Devil take them, they’ve stopped for Chessy… The mare’s distinctive whinny preceded a sudden canter as the mare apparently eluded them. Hopefully before they discovered the saddle was still warm. She just hoped Chessy wouldn’t bolt seriously and stray too far, for she still had to get back to Braithwaite Castle.
Low, male voices drifted to her on the breeze. One, more distinct than the others, said, “It looks like she’s just thrown her rider and is enjoying her freedom.”
“Perhaps,” said another, more short and abrupt. “Keep your eyes open and your pistols cocked.”
Wriggling further up the rock, Anna took Rupert’s glass from her pocket and pointed it toward the group of men. Some of them had dismounted. A couple were searching around the rocks and scrubby bushes.
“If you would, sir,” the short voice said impatiently. “We need to keep moving. My men will find anyone lurking in the vicinity.”
No sooner had he spoken than a gloved hand clamped over Anna’s mouth and she was dragged flat onto the ground behind the rock while the weight of a man’s body held her helpless.
Old fears surged into the new ones, and just for an instant, panic screamed in her head, for she could not move, not to turn on her attacker, not even to bite the hand over her mouth.
And then she realized those were words being breathed into her ear, in French. “C’est moi. C’est moi. Louis.”
And although her whole body wanted to sob with mingled fury and relief, she forced herself to relax. His weight shifted, his hand released her mouth. And she finally saw why he had dragged her down.
Someone was approaching on foot from the opposite direction to the horsemen and would easily have seen her in another moment.
“All clear ahead,” the newcomer called softly, and the men returned to their horses. One of them had a distinct, yet oddly graceful limp. He swung himself into the saddle without aid, although a smaller man hovered close by him as though anxious to help. The horses moved forward, once more at a rapid pace.
Anna flattened herself at the foot of the rock, but she could not resist casting her gaze upward as the riders galloped past. Their lantern light flickered over the face of the lame man, who was not young but possessed a haughty, curiously refined face.
Louis’s arm remained heavy across her shoulders, both a warning and a secret comfort.
When the riders were far enough ahead, she threw him off and sat up. “Who are they?”
“The one giving the orders is Captain Alban,” Louis murmured.
“And the lame man? Do you know him?”
“Yes.” Even in the darkness, she saw the brief gleam of his smile.
“Then he is French… Who is he, Louis?”
“I can’t tell you that until I know what you will do.”
She reached for her lantern and the flint in her pocket. When the light flared up over his enigmatic face, she met his gaze. “What will you do?”
“I don’t know yet. It depends on who he is here to meet and why.”
“Did you know it was him?” she said suddenly. “Is that why you no longer have need of me?”
He looked away, and she wished she hadn’t asked, hadn’t acknowledged the change in him. But she would not give in to the pain, to the weakness. She would find out alone who the arriving Frenchman was, and why he was there.
But before she could move, his gaze suddenly returned to her, pinning her. “I didn’t know until I saw him. And for the rest…perhaps I am learning to be the gentleman I pretend to be.”
She stared, and then deliberately curled her lip. “What a pity. I liked you better before.”
She rose to her feet, looking around for Chessy. Her lantern picked up a horse-shaped figure a hundred yards or so across the moor. The mare appeared to have found something to eat.
“Where are you going?” Louis asked as Anna began to walk in that direction.
“To Roseley.”
“Don’t be foolish. Alban’s men will have the house and grounds totally secure.”
Anna did not pause. “We shall see.”
For the first time, he appeared to be genuinely flustered. “What will you do?” he demanded, catching up with her. “Claim acquaintance with Lady Arabella? In this guise?”
She laughed, spreading her hands. “I could be a stable boy, could I not?”
“No,” he said flatly. “Anna, I am trying to keep you safe. It’s all to keep you safe.”
“I don’t need you for my own safety,” she said with contempt, and was even angrier when he actually fell back. She refused to look behind her until a cry of distress made her spin around in time to see Louis dragging someone upright from the long grass.
Instantly, she strode toward them, holding her lantern high. The discovered man swung wildly at Louis, who seemed to catch him with ease, twisting his arm up his back while holding him still. The light played across the features of Mr. Banion.
“Gosselin,” Louis observed. “What a surprise. Now I may cut your throat and my day will be complete.”
“In front of her ladyship?” Banion mocked. “How very vulgar.”
“Oh, I doubt her ladyship falls to pieces at the sight of a little violence,” Louis said indifferently.
“And what of him?” Banion asked with a hint of desperation, gesturing wildly with his eyes toward the road. “Are you ready to cut his throat, too, now you have gone over to the enemy?”
Louis’s arm tightened at his enemy’s throat. “Just yours. Never equate personal enmity with the patriotic variety.”
“Does she?” Banion demanded, staring pleadingly at Anna. “Does she even know you are French?”
Anna laughed. “I even know you are.” But unease slid up her spine, a warning of… Something rustled in the grass. “Louis,” she said urgently, but he was already looking around.
Men rose up out of the darkness, blades glinting in the lantern light.
“Go,” Louis commanded. “Run.” He swung around to face the oncoming men, holding Banion—Gosselin—like a shield in front of him.
Anna held her breath, but the piratical newcomers, surely more of Alban’s men, advanced without hesitation. Gosselin meant nothing to them.
Before she could tell Louis so, he released his enemy, pushing him so hard he stumbled to the ground. “You were followed, you imbecile!” Louis snarled, then sprang toward the pirates with a last yell of, “Anna, run!”
Anna ran, though only to circle around and approach the attacking men from the other side. Without conscious thought, she had drawn her favorite stiletto from her pocket.
Louis swung back to avoid the vicious swing of a knife, taking advantage of the wielder’s subsequent imbalance to punch him hard in the jaw. As he fell, someone tried to seize Louis from behind, and was hurled backward by Louis’s elbow and a backward kick. Someone else fell under his fist, but despite the dagger that appeared suddenly in his hand, he was far too badly outnumbered not to be beaten.
Anna’s ears sang with fear and fury as she threw herself toward the fray. Or perhaps it was her own screaming. Louis could not die. He must not die, whoever he was, whatever he had done, whatever he had made her feel. Her heart pounded. Or at least, she thought it was her heart, but then, suddenly, it was horses’ hooves. Chessy neighed loudly in her ear and then, before she could do more than haul someone back by his coat tails, hands seized her, yanking her up and onto Chessy’s back.
Stupidly, she thought for an instant it had to be Louis, but when she peered over
her shoulder, he had paused on the ground to stare after her. And then Alban’s men hurled themselves at him and she didn’t see how he could survive.
It was Banion who had somehow caught and mounted Chessy, and then seized her.
“Stop!” she yelled into Banion’s face. “Help him!”
“Trust me, he will help himself,” Banion said grimly. “He always does.”
“But he is wounded! He cannot fight all of them. At the very best, his wound will open again…”
But Banion was not listening. Taking matters into her own hands, Anna threw herself forward and seized the reins, hauling on them to slow Chessy and turn her back.
Banion swore in French, seizing back the reins. “Don’t be stupid! He will follow you!”
It made her pause, partly because he clearly wanted Louis to follow her. Why was that, when Louis was his sworn enemy? And how the devil could he when at least six pirates were beating him, killing him…
Banion’s arm tightened around her waist, holding her in place while he tried to turn the horse once more. Revulsion swept over Anna. From sheer instinct, as Chessy slowed, she wrenched herself out of Banion’s grasp and threw herself to the ground. Chessy pulled up at last, and Banion shifted the horse, trying to block Anna’s way back. At the same time, he reached down with one hand to help her back up.
“I won’t hurt you,” he promised. “But you must come with me.” He grasped her shoulder. “It’s the only way.”
“No, it isn’t,” Anna said, lashing out with her stiletto.
His surprised yell of pain rent the darkness, but Anna didn’t wait to see the result of her action. All but sobbing, she ran back to the fight.
But she could no longer see anyone.
*
When Louis had told Anna to run, he immediately hurled himself at Alban’s men to give her time. But he was under no illusions. Fit and well, he might have given a reasonable account of himself but the outcome would have been no different, not against six fighting sailors trained by Alban. On the other hand, it had not been part of his plan for Anna to escape in Gosselin’s company. That terrified him more than anything.
His wound screamed in agony as a blow landed on it, and his left arm suddenly wouldn’t obey him. He staggered back, knocking someone aside as he went. But his worst fear now was that he would be left unconscious or too weak to save Anna.
He straightened, circling as they all closed in on him. “Very well,” he said amiably. “You’ve had your fun. Now take me to the captain before I feel obliged to explain your excessive enthusiasm.”
“That’s exactly where you’re going,” someone said aggressively. “You were following the captain.”
“That wasn’t me, you imbecile! The man who followed him has just ridden off! I was merely on my way to see Captain Alban when I found that fellow skulking in the grass.”
“Then why did you attack us?” one of the men demanded, picking up a fallen lantern.
The light shone clearly on the sailor’s face, and with relief Louis recognized him. Rummaging in his mind for the man’s name, he replied, “Because I’d no idea who the devil you were. It never entered my head Captain Alban would have more men following so far behind. I apologize for hurting you, Cobb.”
The name rushed back to him as well as several others connected to those men. They’d travelled on the same ship to England. These men had locked him up, fed him each day, and Louis had listened by habit to every interaction he could.
Cobb frowned at the use of his name.
Louis laughed and waved one arm toward the road. “You don’t remember me, do you? Come, let’s get to Roseley as quickly as possible so that I can discharge my business with the captain. Lead on, Brandy!”
The use of their names, which he could not have known without some dealing with their captain, seemed to convince them as he expected it to.
“You still don’t remember me?” he asked, allowing amusement to seep into his voice as he walked confidently toward the road. “I’m sure it will come to you,” he added, devoutly hoping it wouldn’t.
Ahead, yet another man was walking to meet them, leading a horse by the reins. Louis’s hired horse.
“Found him tied up on the moor,” the man told Cobb.
“He’s mine,” Louis admitted. “I left him to discover who was following the captain. But I admit, I’m very glad to see him. You men hit too hard and I need to get to Roseley as quickly as possible.”
He reached for the reins, and the man only cast a quick glance at Cobb before relinquishing them.
“Well, you shouldn’t have fought so well yourself,” Cobb said generously.
Louis managed a laugh as he hauled himself into the saddle. Every inch of his body seemed to protest, his shoulder most vociferously of all. He just hoped the wound hadn’t opened again.
“Well, if you’ll excuse me, gentlemen, I’ll find the fellow you lost, before I ride on to Roseley. I’ll see you there. Can you spare one of the lanterns?”
It was insolence, really, but it would be necessary in his search for Anna. Brandy delivered his lantern up without a quibble.
“I suggest you hurry,” Louis said seriously. “You have wasted too much time here.” He urged the horse to motion and then galloped off in the direction he had last seen Anna and Gosselin.
The difficult terrain forced him to slow before long. He could see no one riding ahead in any direction, though eventually he found the tracks left by Anna’s horse in the slushy ground, and they eventually returned to the road, where they were indistinguishable. It looked as if Gosselin was taking her back to Blackhaven, but Louis did not believe that.
For one thing, Anna would not have been a comfortable companion. She would not sit submissively silent while he abducted her and tried to hide her in the middle of a town. He would take her somewhere quiet…either to lure Louis to her or simply to kill her.
Louis’s blood froze. By choice, Gosselin would take the former course, if only to keep Louis busy during whatever business he had with the guest at Roseley. But Anna would not give him that choice. She would be too much of a handful. He could have killed her already. He could be in the act of killing her at this moment.
Ignoring the terror threatening to swamp him, he followed the road back to the point they had found Gosselin. If he had been forced to kill her so soon, he would do it where Louis would find her easily. Just for spite.
He left the road, swinging the lantern high over the grassy ground where they had found Gosselin. His heart thudded with fear. He could not endure to lose another friend. He could not bear to lose her. She had crept and clawed her way into his cold heart, far deeper than he had even realized until now when he faced losing her. More than that, he could not bear that she be alone and afraid, helpless once more in an evil man’s power. That she should die in such horror when she begun to waken to the joys of life that had been so cruelly taken from her…
A figure rose up from behind a rock, faint and indistinguishable beyond that it wore male clothes. Except the rock, surely, was where he and Anna had hidden as Alban rode past. His throat constricted. He was afraid to even hope, and yet he rode forward to meet the figure at once. It began to run, and he saw with unspeakable relief that it was her.
He dragged the pistol from his pocket, aiming it at the rock in case Gosselin should show as much as a hand behind her.
He didn’t. And the boyish figure, which truly looked nothing like a boy, flung itself at his leg, sobbing wildly. “I thought you were dead,” she gasped. “I thought they had killed you!”
He bent from the saddle, grasping the back of her head in unutterable relief, pressing her cheek into his thigh. But it was not enough. He bent lower and swept her up by the waist, close into his body, burying his lips in her hair. But she tilted her head back at once, grasping his face between her hands, and he saw the tears streaking her pale, beautiful face and glistening still in her eyes.
“Oh, thank God,” she said shakily and kiss
ed him full on the mouth.
It seemed she could not stop kissing him, pressing her lips to his cheeks, his chin, his neck, until he held her head steady and sank his mouth into hers for the long, desperate kiss they both needed.
When the horse moved restlessly, he released her to pick up the reins once more. Shifting his weight behind the saddle, he settled her more comfortably in front of him.
“How did you escape Gosselin?” he asked, just a little shakily.
“I stabbed him in the hand,” she replied impatiently, and in spite of everything, laughter shook him.
“Of course, you did. I should have known you would get away.”
“I wanted to help you. He wouldn’t go back. How did you get away from all these men?”
“I’d met some of them before,” he confessed. “It was Alban’s ship that brought me to England, to my prison. I thought I probably looked familiar enough to get away with it, so I pretended I was connected to Alban and on my way to see him.” He dropped his cheek onto the top of her head once more, briefly squeezing his eyes shut. “Did he hurt you?”
“Banion? Of course not,” she said scornfully. “No one hurts me now.”
“You are wonderful,” he said, smiling into her hair before straightening, and turning the horse’s head back toward Blackhaven.
“Wait,” she said, frowning. “We should go on to Roseley to find out about that man. Their guest.”
“There is no point. We could talk our way past Alban’s men, even speak to Alban, but they won’t tell us why he their guest is there. To find that out, we need to know who he is meeting.”
“Who is he?” Anna demanded.
And this time he told her. “Charles de Talleyrand-Périgord, Prince of Benevento. Napoleon’s one-time minister of foreign affairs, and always a man to be reckoned with.”
Chapter Fifteen
Anna, drowning in torrents of bliss because he was alive and because he did care for her after all, had to force her brain to think.
Blackhaven Brides (Books 5–8) Page 59
