by Laura Landon
He turned and stepped away from her. Lydia felt a void unlike anything she’d ever experienced before, a loss unlike any grief she’d ever endured. She couldn’t let him leave her like this. What if he never came back?
"Gabriel?"
He stopped, then turned.
Their gazes locked and what she saw in his eyes stole her breath. She took one step forward then another. And waited. She’d run the gamut of emotions since he’d come back into her life, from anger to loss to desire to raging need. She didn’t want him to leave her this last time without...
She opened her mouth to speak but her words came out as a tortured whisper. "Hold me. Please."
He looked at her, then closed his eyes and sighed as if in resignation to some inner battle he’d lost. "Ah, Liddy," he answered, then opened his arms to let her in.
She rushed to him and let him envelop her.
He pulled her close, holding her as if he never wanted to let her go.
She knew the passion raging through her was real, knew the depth of emotion she felt for him was genuine. If this were the last time she’d have him, she wanted there to be more.
Lydia nestled closer and wound her arms around him.
"You don’t play fair," he whispered.
When she lifted her gaze, Gabriel’s eyes were dark with emotion. "Tell me you never loved me," she whispered. "Tell me you left me because you didn’t love me."
His eyes closed. His breathing turned harsh and ragged. "I can’t."
Her flesh burned where they touched, her chest heaved as it struggled to take in even one breath. She needed him to kiss her. She’d regret it forever if he didn’t. She raised her chin and whispered a plea that he would end her agony.
His loud moan echoed in the tension-filled room and he brought his mouth down to hers.
The kiss they shared was wrought with passion, with desperation, as if it required him to surrender his soul.
She clung to him because she could do nothing else. He’d stolen every ounce of strength from her, had weakened what little resolve she had left.
"Heaven help us," he whispered, and he kissed her again.
His tongue entered her mouth and she leaned into him, gave in to him, ached to make herself a part of him. Again and again his tongue met hers, the rhythm explosive.
She was certain the desperation in his kiss held some higher meaning and searched to find it. But she’d lost all coherency.
A burning whirlpool swirled deep in the pit of her stomach, spinning, churning, then moved with molten intensity to a secret place lower inside her. A place he’d awakened when he’d kissed her before.
With a heart-wrenching moan of anguish, he pulled her closer.
She clung to him with all the strength she had.
She leaned her cheek against his chest and listened to the loud, pulsing thunder of his heart beneath her ear. This was so much more than they’d shared before - so much more than she thought there could be between Gabriel and herself. How could she ever be content with anything less?
Yet, she knew she must. And so did he.
Suddenly, the cold reality of what was expected of them loomed more menacingly. He stepped away from her and walked to the door.
She brought her hands to her mouth to stop the gasping cry, but it escaped anyway.
"If we’re not back by sun-up, go to Rouen and Captain Faraday so he can take you home."
She wanted to argue with him but he didn’t give her a chance.
He closed the door and was gone.
CHAPTER 14
"We’re here," Jean-Paul whispered when the wagon turned at the entrance to Mont-Valérien.
Gabriel held himself as still as possible in the fake compartment beneath the bed of Jean-Paul’s wagon. If everything went as planned, the regular guard would be gone and one of Jean-Paul’s men would be in his place.
"Halt," the guard demanded when the wagon stopped. "What do you have there?"
Gabriel reached for his pistol, prepared to fire. He relaxed his grip when he heard Jean-Paul’s answer.
"A dozen doxies for your evening’s pleasure, my friend."
The guard laughed. "A dozen? Oui! Come right in."
Gabriel breathed a sigh of relief then pushed himself out of the hiding compartment and jumped to the ground. "The guard took the bribe?" he asked, rubbing his thigh while he brushed the straw from his woolen trousers.
"Yes, but he didn’t come cheaply."
"No matter. Money is the least of our concerns."
Marcel led the way toward the open door and they followed. "The guard only promised to be gone an hour so we need to hurry," he said.
Gabriel’s heart raced as he followed Marcel through a small side door. They walked past two guards lying unconscious on the floor, then to the heavy prison door that led to the area where the prisoners were held.
"There’s another guard inside," Marcel whispered.
Gabriel pulled his pistol from his pocket, as did the others, and stepped closer. "I’ll go first."
Jean-Paul clasped him on the shoulder. "I can lead the way. I know—"
"I’ll lead." Gabriel knew his friend meant well, but he couldn’t let anyone take the bigger risk. "No matter what happens, get Austin out first."
Jean-Paul frowned. "We’ll all get out."
Gabriel nodded then went to the door. "Ready?"
"Oui, Major."
Gabriel pushed on the thick wooden door and rushed through the opening.
The sleeping guard sat to the right of the door with his chair tipped back against the wall and his chin resting on his chest. He was a heap on the floor before he realized what happened. Gabriel grabbed the keys from the guard’s belt and raced down the long line of cells until he found the one where Austin was held. He turned the key in the lock, then rushed to the corner where Austin lay.
"Austin?" He gently moved his friend but stopped when Austin moaned. Bloody hell. What had they done to him?
Gabriel’s blood boiled. Austin hadn’t only been imprisoned and beaten. He’d been tortured.
Gabriel glanced at the torn flesh on Austin’s back and the burns over his arms and shoulders and was engulfed by a fury that raged out of control.
He placed his arm beneath Austin’s shoulder and raised him. His face was swollen and caked with blood, and he was weak and barely conscious. But he was alive.
"Gabe?"
"Yes, it’s me. Come on. Let’s get you out of here."
Thankfully, Henri entered the cell and helped him carry Austin down the long hall. They made their way past the single guard, then the two in the outer room, and finally out into the open. The minute they hit the cool outside air, Austin moaned again.
"Hold on, Austin. Just a little farther."
"Thorn," Austin said.
"It’s all right," Gabriel answered. He knew what Austin was going to tell him. He’d been beaten and tortured, and he’d broken. He’d told them about Thorn. "It’s all right, Austin. We’ll fix it."
"No...He’s..." Austin grabbed Gabriel’s jacket and pulled him closer. "He’s...here."
Austin’s words struck him like a blow to the chest. "What did you say?"
"He’s here... Last cell."
Gabriel settled Austin in the bed of the wagon, then raced back inside the prison. Prisoner after freed prisoner rushed out and Gabriel evaluated each one, praying he’d recognize the man they’d dubbed Thorn.
None seemed likely.
He looked down the aisle. Jean-Paul hadn’t reached the last cell. Their mysterious agent was still locked inside.
Suddenly it was important to Gabriel that he was the one to free the agent who’d played such an important role in ending the war, that he was the one to get Thorn to safety, perhaps as repayment for what he’d done for England.
He raced down the long corridor as fast as his aching leg would allow and met Jean-Paul as he reached the last cell. "I’ll finish here. Make room in the wagon. There will be one more."
He looked to the huddled form in the corner of the cell. The man struggled to sit, but couldn’t accomplish the deed.
Gabriel raced to his side. "How badly are you hurt?"
"I can walk, Major."
A stabbing of familiarity spiked through him and he turned his head to look at the man who’d been a mystery to him during the war. The realization of Thorn’s identity nearly took him to his knees.
Gabriel halted in mid step. He’d waited years to discover Thorn’s identity, spent endless hours arguing with Austin over what kind of man this larger-than-life hero had to be, but the man he helped from the French prison couldn’t be him. It couldn’t be – because if it was, he was saving the man who would destroy any chance he had for happiness when they returned to England.
He was saving the Marquess of Culbertson.
His mind reeled. This was the man who’d masterminded every covert operation Gabriel had been sent on. The man whose daring and brilliance had saved thousands of lives. The man whose ability to discover the enemy’s next moves had brought about a quicker end to the war.
The man who would take Liddy away from him.
He tried to force his feet to move but the battle inside him waged too intensely. The vow he’d made Chisolmwood more than a year ago blared with alarming hostility. He had within his power to exact revenge on the Duke of Chisolmwood for destroying not only his life, but Liddy’s, too.
If he left Culbertson to fend for himself he’d likely not survive. If he left Culbertson here...
"Have you decided if you’re going to rescue me, Major? Or would you prefer to leave me to face the hangman’s noose in the morning?"
Gabriel’s gaze locked with Culbertson’s. He saw his swollen lips and the bruises on his face. He’d obviously been beaten, but he was a strong man. If Gabriel got him to safety, he’d survive. And when they returned to England, Liddy would become his marchioness.
But that was how Gabriel always knew it would be. He couldn’t live with himself if he let it end any differently. He couldn’t live his life knowing that he’d taken the life of an innocent man to exact his revenge on the Duke of Chisolmwood. His conscience wouldn’t allow him to be happy with Liddy, knowing he was responsible for Culbertson’s death.
He didn’t answer Culbertson, but lifted the agent to his knees and half dragged, half carried him out of the prison.
"Cover him with hay," Gabriel ordered when Culbertson was safely in the wagon. Marcel, Francois, and Jacques quickly covered Austin and Culbertson, then jumped in beside them.
Jean-Paul already sat atop in the driver’s seat, waiting to set the wagon in motion.
Gabriel rushed to take his place beside him, but stopped when a loud gunfire exploded behind him.
"Halt, Major Talbot," LeBrouche shouted as he galloped toward him.
Gabriel turned and fired. LeBrouche and a half dozen other soldiers closed in on them.
"Go!" Gabriel hollered.
The horses skittered at the explosion and Jean-Paul tried to hold them steady. But they were too frightened.
Gunshots rang through the air and Jean-Paul’s frantic voice ordered him to get in, but Gabriel knew his leg wouldn’t allow him to mount a moving wagon. The only chance they had to escape was if he stayed behind to draw fire.
"Go!" he bellowed again, then slapped his hand across the lead horse’s backside.
The team lurched forward and Gabriel fired his pistol until the wagon was out of sight.
He pressed his back against the wall and quickly reloaded.
Four French soldiers followed LeBrouche into the alley, but Gabe was able to keep the French soldiers pinned behind a wall of crates. He fired as rapidly as he could, then took advantage of a slight pause in the gunfire to make his escape.
He ran down the alley in the opposite direction the wagon had gone, hoping LeBrouche wanted him badly enough to follow him and give Jean-Paul the opportunity he needed to flee.
The rumble of the wagon grew fainter while the thunder of horses chasing him grew louder. He turned when he reached the end of the alley and his eyes locked with LeBrouche’s. He veered to his right.
"Let the wagon go!" LeBrouche hollered. "I want the major!"
Gabriel ran faster, ignoring the stitch in his side and his leg that threatened to buckle beneath him. He ran into the Paris streets, hoping to get lost amongst the predawn vendors gathering to sell their wares. The semi-darkness helped, made him less visible. But from the commotion behind him, he knew the soldiers were gaining on him.
A bullet whizzed past his ear, hitting the side of a building. Pieces of brick chipped off. A big piece struck him above the eye. Gabriel wiped the blood from his forehead and ducked into an alley just as another bullet sang through the air. It grazed his left arm. The wound was just a scratch. His leg, however, throbbed like bloody hell.
He’d been in tight spots before and knew he didn’t have much time before they caught him. He dove through the first door he could open, that of a rundown barn. It smelled of old grain and moldy hay. He limped down the aisle between the empty stalls, his leg nearly useless now. He couldn’t go any further. He needed to get out of sight, needed to find someplace to hide.
He entered one of the stalls and crawled to a dark corner. Just as he reached the shadows, the door opened and a French soldier rode through the opening. Gabriel expected to see LeBrouche, but it wasn’t. His adversary was a young soldier, barely out of his teens.
"Damn," Gabriel hissed as he lifted his gun and fired.
Their gunshots echoed simultaneously and Gabriel felt a sharp pain in his shoulder a second before he hit the floor.
___
Lydia stood at the window, staring down onto the alley, waiting for Gabriel to return with Austin. The sun was already above the horizon. Sunrise had come – and gone.
"You have to get ready to leave, Lady Lydia," Jennie said from the doorway. "I promised Papa and the major that Gustav would take you to Rouen if they weren’t back by sunup."
Lydia looked at the tall Frenchman standing behind Jennie, then turned to look back out the window. "Not yet."
A tension-filled silence enveloped the room. She ignored the worried glances Jennie and Gustav exchanged with Hannah. She didn’t care. She couldn’t leave yet. She wouldn’t. Gabriel wasn’t back. She couldn’t leave without knowing if he was safe – if they were safe.
"But the major said—"
"I promised the major I’d leave when I was certain he wasn’t coming back. I am far from certain." She dropped the yellow-checked curtain and stepped toward where Gustav still stood in the doorway. "Have you heard anything yet? Have any of them come back?"
Gustav shook his head. "One of our compatriots left a short while ago to find out what he could but he hasn’t returned."
"We won’t leave until he returns."
Gustav’s shoulders lifted as if his size might intimidate her. "It’s not safe to wait," he said. "The major ordered me to—"
Lydia raised her hand to stop him. "I know what the major ordered you to do, but I’m a long way from following his orders. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to be alone." She turned back to watch out the window.
Thankfully, Hannah shooed Jennie and the Frenchman out of the room and followed them. It wasn’t until the door closed behind them that the inner fortitude that held her nerves together crumbled and she sagged against the wall. She wrapped her arms around her middle and prayed the trembling would stop.
Something was wrong. They should have been back hours ago. There’d always been an innate connection between Gabriel and herself, and that connection told her something had happened. He’d have returned already if things had gone as they’d expected.
Lydia turned back to the window to keep watch. She repeated the prayer she’d prayed all night, that God would bring them all back to
her safe and sound. Over and over she repeated the litany, not even stopping when Hannah came back into the room.
"Why don’t you sit, my lady." Hannah pushed a chair closer. "You’ve stood for hours. Just rest for a bit and I’ll keep watch."
Lydia shook her head then looked from one end of the alley to the other. A sickening dread weighed heavily in the pit of her stomach, a painful pressure that pushed against her heart. She reached out to steady herself against the wall when a wave of dizziness overtook her. Worry, lack of sleep, and no food had taken its toll and she swayed again as the room swam before her eyes.
Then she saw it.
Jean-Paul’s wagon rumbled down the alley and stopped beneath her window. Her heart leaped to her throat and her cry echoed in the small, little room.
"They’re here! Oh, thank God. They’re here! They’re here!"
She raced out the door and down the hall. She took the stairs at an unladylike pace, but she didn’t care. Her only concern was reaching the wagon where several men lifted an injured Austin out of the straw.
She scanned the area for Gabriel but didn’t see him. He was probably standing guard at the entrance to the alley to make sure they hadn’t been followed. That would be like him.
She breathed a sigh of relief as she rushed to her brother’s side. "Austin?"
"Liddy?" he answered. "Bloody hell, Liddy. What are you...doing here?"
She reached for his hand and squeezed his fingers. "I came for you, silly. I wanted to make sure you found your way home without getting lost. Thank you for appreciating my efforts."
"Ah, Liddy," he gasped, then coughed. The effort to speak took its toll.
"Take him inside," she ordered, brushing her hand across his face.
A painful pressure tightened in her breast. His features were gaunt as if he’d gone months with barely enough to eat, and his face was cut and bruised as if he’d endured more than his share of beatings.
The men holding him moved toward the inn and she took a few steps with them then stopped. Someone else was in the wagon. Gabriel?
She rushed to the wagon. "Gabriel?"
Two men lowered the second man to the ground and she could tell he was severely injured. She ran the last few steps.