The lass looked as beautiful as ever. Dark circles lay beneath her eyes, showing a lack of rest. Could Lucy be as distraught as he?
Still using the foliage to hide, Bryce watched Lucy present herself to Jean. Quite affectionate with his greeting, Monsieur Broussard kissed Lucy on the cheek. Blood rushed to her face as she attempted to move away.
Fortunately Jean released Lucy and allowed her to mingle with the other guests. Bryce exited to a private balcony, staying hidden behind long, thick drapes.
Lifting a corner of the heavy, rich fabric, Bryce watched the guests. Lucy headed straight for him. People stopped the lass, offering greetings. This made Lucy unable to continue in one direction for any length of time. When she approached the balcony, she turned so he faced her back.
Chapter Forty-Nine
An arm snaked about her middle. A scream filled her throat but she was silenced by a pair of lips pressed to her own. At first she fought the kiss, kicking her legs, baring her nails, but the kiss only deepened. Lucy panicked as her attacker walked her away from the entry.
Once completely outside, the assailant stepped away. She pulled back her arm and opened her palm. A loud smack echoed around the stone balcony, yet he still held her in place.
“I guess I deserved that.”
“Bryce,” she said, her voice sounding breathless with shock.
“Aye. I hope no other has been kissin’ ye?”
The sound of his voice filled her with joy and her heart soared. Leaning back she studied his attire. He was dressed like a French gentleman. Confused, Lucy asked, “What are you doing here?”
His arms held her tight as he spoke. “For such a small lass, ye pack a mean slap.”
“Bryce, please. How did you find me?”
“By God’s grace.”
“What?”
“By accident. I wasn’t expectin’ to see ye here, although I believe Emissary knew all along.”
“What? What are you babbling about?”
“My horse. Never mind, you wouldn’t believe me anyway.” His arms dropped to his sides. Bryce walked to the balcony’s railing and gazed out over the moonlit water. The wind blew across the small fountain nestled in the midst of the flower garden. The huge stone structure, imposing and daunting, only exhibited beauty when the moonlight reflected upon the water’s glassy top.
To see Bryce, to be this close to him, was a huge relief. If given half a chance she would soon be lying on his broad shoulder, seeking comfort. If only he knew how happy she was to see him.
Then his parting words floated through her mind. “Your horse? Bryce, you must stop talking in riddles. I’m here to meet the Admiral. I don’t have time for all this absurd banter.”
Turning, his face changed into a smile. “Ye think mighty highly of yer time.”
“Bryce, I know—“
“Save yer explanations. The truth is, I tried to go home but me horse wouldn’t have it. First the thing left me. Then she led me to a boat and made me cross the Channel. Purely by a miracle, Jean Broussard bumped into me and invited me here. And now ye are here as well. It’s staggering.”
“Indeed.”
“And what are ye doing here?”
A certain amount of anger radiated from Bryce. Lucy knew she’d hurt him, but right now she didn’t have time to assuage his bruised ego.
“Admiral Coligny is here. And I’m here to give him the message.”
“Oh.” He raised an eyebrow, and she realized she had to elaborate before he shook it out of her.
“I went through a lot of trouble to arrange the invitation to this celebration. I should probably go inside and find him.”
Turning her back, she readied to accomplish her task. One foot across the threshold, she stopped. A thundering noise echoed. Bryce grabbed her and pulled her back onto the balcony. Together they huddled against the curtains and peered inside.
A group of French soldiers entered. The men stood in a line. One uniformed man advanced and unfurled a long paper.
Jean Broussard stepped forward in response, his voice rising in agitation. “What is the meaning of this?”
Lucy trembled as she remembered a similar scene that ended in a man's death. Bryce whispered in her ear, “Are ye all right?”
Between clenched teeth, she replied, “I don’t know yet.”
Inside the house, the King’s officer responded to Jean. “By decree of King Henry II, you are ordered to turn over Lucille Lombard.”
“Who?” asked Jean, arching his brow.
The soldier rolled the parchment and handed it to another. He clicked his heels and slapped his palms together as his men straightened to attention. “Monsieur, I understand your unwillingness to turn over a guest, but I assure you she will be returned.”
Lucy shuddered and leaned against Bryce, only guessing at the condition in which she would be returned.
Jean responded, “May I inquire as to the offense of this woman?”
“I’m afraid that is none of your concern. Now I must insist—“
“Charles, what are you doing here?”
“Admiral, I—“
Charles? Did he say Charles? Lucy peered around the drape’s edge and, sure enough, there he was — Charles Dubois, dressed in soldier’s garb and speaking on behalf of the crown. This was bad, very bad.
“Gaspard, do you know this man?” asked Jean.
“Indeed I do. He is under my command.”
“Then perhaps you can instruct him to leave,” said Jean, crossing his arms over his chest in defiance.
“Perhaps. But first I might inquire as to his mission.”
“Sir, forgive me, but I’ve been ordered to keep the mission silent. Yet I must insist you release Lucille Lombard to my care.”
“Jean, we must comply,” said the Admiral.
The words sent Lucy’s heart racing with fear. Bryce’s hand covered her mouth. He whispered, “We have to get out of here.”
Lucy shook her head.
“Ye can warn the Admiral later. Right now we need to leave.”
Body nestled against his, she allowed him to pull her to the balcony’s edge. Once there, he hoisted himself over the side. One floor above the ground, the drop looked lofty. But once he reached the ground, he urged her to jump. With a final glance behind her, Lucy dropped silently, landing in Bryce’s arms.
Chapter Fifty
“Yes, Monsieur Broussard, you must comply.”
“You!” came a voice from the back of the crowd.
Charles turned, searching for whence the sound came. The search was short as Gustav arrived.
“Seize this man,” ordered Gustav.
Charles smirked. “On whose authority?”
Gustav hesitated.
“Shall the king’s guards listen to a traitor to the French crown?”
True fear crossed Gustav’s face as the Admiral stepped forward, his hands rising in a defensive posture. “Let’s all just calm down. No one is being seized. This is a celebration to honor Jean Broussard, my dear friend.”
Gustav watched as the Admiral directed Charles to the dessert table. Someone placed a glass of spirits in his hand. Women from the crowd sauntered forward, each grabbing a soldier and twirling him onto the dance floor.
Gustav and Jean casually slipped away. Hidden behind closed doors, Jean spoke first. “Before tonight, did you not know that the Charles Dubois from England was a French soldier?”
“No.”
Jean slapped his forehead, a soft pop echoing in the room. “Gustav, we have a major problem. Lucille has been discovered. If she is or was close by with a message, then it may never reach us in time, because now the French crown pursues her.
“And how could you step forward and draw such attention to yourself?” After this, the French flowed freely; several curses were caught as Gustav struggled to keep up with the translation.
Agitated, Jean’s hands flew through the air like a madman's. “You must leave. That is our only answer. You will t
ravel back to your home in Germany until this blows over and you are forgotten.”
“But I don’t believe Charles knows—“
“It doesn’t matter; he knows enough. Otherwise he wouldn’t have known to search for Mademoiselle Lombard here. You will hasten to Germany. We will communicate through Olga. That will be all.”
Dismissal rankled but Gustav bowed and exited. The people in the room seemed to have forgotten the incident from moments before. Small groups huddled together. Couples danced across the floor. The air of cheerfulness resumed.
The royal guard joined in the festivities, dancing around the room. Even Monsieur Dubois was entertained. He relaxed on a velvet lounge, surrounded by a half-dozen ladies, all fluttering their eyelashes at him. He absorbed the attention and seemed to hang on their every word.
Gustav realized he had an opportunity to escape detection, and skirted the edge of the room. The crowd in front of him and the wall behind caused his confidence to grow.
“Gustav, would you think of leaving without telling me farewell?” Olga’s voice surprised him and he jumped. “Sorry, dear brother, I didn’t mean to startle you. Come with me and I will find you passage through the crowd.”
Tongue tied, he followed her out. The chill of the night air had driven most everyone else inside. Only a few guests roamed the manicured gardens. Avoiding these people proved fairly easy. Most were couples seeking privacy, and they averted their gaze as Gustav and Olga passed.
Once out of hearing, Olga spoke again. “I know Jean told you to return home, and no, I was not eavesdropping. I just know Jean. But just because I know him, and respect him, doesn’t mean I agree. Don’t interrupt me.
“Jean is worried, but having you leave Caen will help nothing. You must stay within the city. If Lucille followed you, then she surely has a message for you. Take this time to find her and collect the message.”
“But—“
A slip of paper passed from her hand into his. “This will help.”
Set to unfurl the pages, Gustav paused when Olga’s hand stayed him. “Not here.”
With a nod he left his sister. In a clipped pace he headed for his home. His secret identity was a saving grace, as it would continue to be. He shed his hat, cloak, and pointed shoes just before he entered the poorer part of the city, and gave them to a homeless man along the way. The recipient expressed his gratitude with a large toothless grin.
Gustav moved slowly and deliberately. Danger lurked around every corner. The profession in which he worked was fraught with peril and disaster.
How could he have been so stupid as to speak to Charles openly? Clearly in this setting, Charles was the one in charge, unlike in London.
Thinking on Charles brought Gustav around to more questions. How had Charles known about Lucille Lombard? How had he tracked her to them?
****
The stifled scream caused her throat to ache. Had Bryce not pulled her out onto the balcony only moments before, then she would have been in the Bastille by now. The realization made her sick to her stomach. Bile threatened to rise but she held it at bay by sheer force of will.
Bryce urged her forward. Each step led her further away from everything she’d ever known. This was the day she’d always dreaded. The day she’d feared would come. They knew her identity. The secure life she’d once held was no more.
“Come, Lucy, we must hurry.”
“But—“
“Please, we must reach safety, then we will discuss the message and other matters upon yer mind.”
Although Bryce misunderstood, she readily agreed. Her legs trembling with exertion, she followed along with blind faith. The darkness caused her to stumble on more than one occasion. Each time Bryce slowed and reached out for her, pulling her closer to his person.
They reached a stable some distance away from the Broussard’s grand home, and Lucy was confused. “Where are we?”
“We need Emissary.”
“What? Why was she not at the Broussard stables?”
Distracted by saddling the horse, Bryce took more than a few minutes to answer. When he did, it wasn’t very satisfying. “Monsieur Broussard suggested it.”
There was no time to ask further questions as Bryce threw her upon the horse and quickly mounted up as well. Emissary galloped out of the town. They rode until darkness coated everything. The tree limbs cast eerie shadows in the moonlight. Unable to find stable footing, the horse slowed.
Bryce guided Emissary toward a nearby copse of trees, using the natural shelter to hide. He dismounted, but Lucy stayed put. All she’d been able to do since leaving the city was breathe. Anything else required too much effort.
“Lucy?”
With a slight turn she looked at his face. Concern etched his brow. He sighed. “Lucy, let me help you.”
Bryce lifted her off the horse. Together they stood beneath the tree branches. Around them owls hooted, animals scurried, and crickets chirped out a tune in hope of finding a mate. Time stood still as Bryce’s head dipped forward and breathed a kiss upon her lips. Her arms snaked around his neck, and she pulled back from the kiss and buried her head upon his chest as the tears came.
Bryce’s hold tightened; his soothing hand massaged her lower back. Sobs racked her body as words fell from her lips. “Can you ever forgive me?”
The feel of his chin moving upon her head indicated his acceptance.
“I’m not deserving of someone such as you. I should never have left you in London. You could have helped me and then I wouldn’t be in the mess I’m in now.”
“Shh, that is all over, lass.”
She broke away and began to pace. “How? How is it over? You didn’t know you were near the Admiral the whole time, did you? Jean Broussard is his best friend! If I would have told you everything in the beginning, then none of this would be happening now. I would be at home. The Admiral would be safe. But no, I had to go do it all alone. Now everyone knows who I am. Charles is after me. The Admiral still doesn’t realize the danger he is in. And now we are on the run!”
“Well, when ye put it like that, maybe we should give up.”
“Are you crazy? We can’t give up! We are too close. All we have to do is get back to Caen and find Jean or the Admiral. They are high-profile people. It shouldn’t be too hard to locate them. The problem is just getting close enough.”
“So we should keep going, then?”
“Of course, until our dying breath. But first thing we must do is find shelter. Then food. Tomorrow we will think of a plan for delivering the message.”
All the while she spoke, Bryce had gathered wood. Within minutes he lit a fire. Logs placed around the firepit served as seating. Lucy sat first, then noticed the grin that graced Bryce’s lips.
She felt irritation swell. “How can you be happy at a time like this?”
When he didn’t answer, a sense of realization set in. “You tricked me!” She lifted her brow and pointed her finger at his chest. “You made me think you believed there was no hope so I would try to fix the situation, and I fell right into the trap!” Anger and indignation rose within her breast as she watched Bryce wring his hands. It was right to keep him in suspense, but only for a time. “Thank you.”
A sudden burst of air escaped his lungs.
“Thank you for giving me a new focus. With as much as I’ve been through, you would think I would never lose hope. By now I should know beyond a doubt that God won’t give me more than I can handle. Never promised it would be easy, of course, just that He would give me the strength to make it through. Thanks for helping me remember that.”
Chapter Fifty-One
Lucy talked a few more minutes. Every word made Bryce more proud. This was the woman he loved. Maybe he should tell her again. Alone in the woods where no one could interrupt. Besides, silence in the area of love only caused issues.
“Lucy—“
“Bryce—“
They said each other's names at the same time. A gentleman by nature, B
ryce allowed Lucy to speak first.
“I was going to say, we should probably get some rest. Morning will come early. Once the sun rises, we will have to make plans for what to do. What were you going to say?”
Bryce hesitated. After a moment he said, “I was goin’ to say the same.”
Lucy stood. “Do you mind?”
With direction, he loosened her gown. She wiggled out of the corset. Then she removed the heavy frame from beneath the skirt, and set it upright on the ground.
While Lucy walked away for a bit of privacy, Bryce took a cover from Emissary’s back and draped it across the farthingale. A giggle from behind caused him to jump.
Lucy stood covering her open mouth.
With his hand outstretched toward the standing structure, Bryce said, “Yer shelter awaits.”
“Bryce, I cannot sleep in that thing.”
“Why not?”
“Why, smoke would gather and drive me out.”
“Hmm, a perplexing problem, to be sure. Perhaps if we added a door?” He rolled up the fabric in one section and created a wide opening.
“Nay, it still won’t do.”
“What’s wrong now?”
“Well, the fabric is too close to the fire. What if a spark flies upon the wind and ignites the material? Then I’ll go up in flames.”
“Hmm, another problem.” He lifted the entire framework and placed it at a distance away from the flames. “Now?”
“Now I fear I will freeze.”
Bryce realized she played a game. One he enjoyed immensely. Light banter with Lucy was better than all day on a Scottish hillside surrounded by bleating lambs.
“Then, me lady, what do ye suggest we do?”
She tapped her chin in thought, and answered, “Would it not be better to sleep as we did before? Like on our journey from the Highlands?”
“Ye mean side-by-side, where ye use my chest for a cushion and my body heat for warmth?”
“Aye.” The firelight caused her blush to burn more brightly.
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