by Shana Galen
and back at Rummy. “You know it’s an escape plan.”
“Well, it ain’t a poem professing her undying love.
Not if I know Raeven Russell.”
Bastien sighed again and broke the seal on the
paper. The handwriting was the same he remembered
from the note in his chamber pot all those months
ago. It seemed years now since they’d shared that first
kiss, and he’d thought to punish her by making her
his cabin girl.
The note was short and simple: Look under the seat.
There was only a small bench in his cell, and Bastien
went to it now and peered underneath. Nothing but
dirt and mouse droppings.
“What’s it say?” Rummy asked.
Bastien shrugged. There was no harm in telling the
man. “Look under the seat.” Bastien indicated the
bench. “Nothing there.”
Rummy scratched his chin. “She might mean
another seat. You’ll be taken to Newgate in a
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carriage—not a fancy one, but it’ll have seats. Maybe
she means those seats.”
She undoubtedly did. “Do you think if I asked you
to tell her not to risk it, she’d abandon whatever plan
she’s concocted?”
“No. I’ll tell her if you want, but I’ll probably get
punched in the jaw for my efforts.”
“Far be it from me to be the cause of a scratch on
your pretty face, Mr. Rummy.” Bastien sat on the bench
and stretched out his legs. Rummy was still watching
him. “How much time do I have?” Bastien asked.
Rummy shrugged. “Hour. Maybe two. You’ll
watch out for her, won’t you?”
“I’ll protect her with my life,” Bastien promised.
“But you and I both know that may not be enough.”
Three hours passed before two armed British
soldiers marched into the brig. They were escorted
by the admiral, who oversaw Bastien’s removal from
the cell. One was short and blond, the other tall,
obscenely thin, and dark. The blond soldier held up
shackles, but Bastien spread his hands in entreaty.
“Gentleman, those won’t be necessary. I am unarmed.
I promise to go quietly.”
The soldiers exchanged glances. “We’re supposed
to shackle prisoners,” the dark one said.
Bastien shrugged and held out his hands. “If you must.”
The blond shackled him and led him up the ladder-
ways until he was standing on deck. It was full dark,
and that was a surprise. A glance at the sky told him
it was close to midnight. Docks always stunk, and the
London docks were no different. He was careful not
to take a deep breath, careful not to look for Raeven,
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either. He didn’t expect she would be standing about
on deck, watching him being led away, as some of the
ship’s crew was doing. He wished she were.
He was led down the gangplank to an old, sturdy
carriage. Its curtains were drawn, and a coachman
armed with a blunderbuss stood beside the open door.
It appeared as though Bastien would be traveling
alone. When he reached the conveyance, he looked at
the soldiers. “Need I be shackled while inside?”
“You might as well get used to it,” the thin, dark
soldier muttered.
“Then give me one last taste of freedom.” Bastien
held out his hands.
The blond soldier nodded. “All right. One last
taste, but if you try anything…” He unlocked the
shackles and pushed Bastien into the carriage. Bastien
settled on the poorly sprung seat, crossed his arms, and
looked bored. He waited until the soldiers mounted
their horses and the coachman hoisted himself into
the box before he parted the curtains for a quick look.
The soldiers were in position, one in front and one
behind, but there was no other escort. No sign of
Raeven either.
He heard the coachman call out to the horses and
he reached under the thin squab covering the seat.
His fingers touched metal and, slowly, he withdrew
a pistol. A quick glance told him it was primed and
ready to be fired.
“Thank you, Raeven,” he muttered. “Now stay the
hell out of danger.”
Bastien sat quietly for several minutes, listening to
the sounds of the city, waiting for the carriage to turn
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into a quiet street. After a time, he could tell they had
left the docks behind, but despite the late hour, the
city was busy. He heard voices and the sounds of other
carriages passing. Still, he bided his time.
Finally, the carriage turned again, and the noise
dimmed. Bastien gripped the pistol he’d hidden under
his coat and took a deep breath.
“Halt!” a voice called. “Stand, or we’ll blow your
heads off.”
Bastien heard the soldiers swear and the horses
protest loudly before he heard the first shot from a
pistol. He couldn’t tell if it came from the soldiers,
the coachman, or one of the attackers, and he didn’t
wait to find out. The carriage was still moving, and he
had to get out before it stopped and the soldiers could
secure him. He aimed both feet at the carriage door,
kicked, and watched it slam open. He rolled onto the
floor, his head landing near the doorway, and he saw
the ground rush by.
Another shot sounded, and someone screamed.
Bastien still had the pistol in his hand, and he rolled
to his belly and peered into the dark night. The short,
blond soldier was coming up beside the carriage.
Bastien aimed, fired, and watched the man go down.
Another horse approached, and Bastien prepared to
throw the used pistol at him when he saw the ribbon
of ebony hair down the rider’s back.
“Merde. Get back!” he yelled. “You’re going to
be shot.”
“The coachman is down,” she called back. “I need
to get control of the horses.”
Another shot rang out, and she ducked. The look
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on her face when she rose up again told him it had
been a close.
“You take care of him,” she ordered. “I’ll slow the
horses.” And she rode forward.
Bastien wanted to ask just how she expected him
to protect her and dispatch the dark soldier, when the
carriage careened wildly, and he almost tumbled out.
He caught the edge of the door but lost the pistol. He
watched it bounce on the road and tumble away. With
a curse, he levered himself up and crawled across the
carriage to peer out of the curtains on the other side.
The dark soldier was right beside the c
onveyance and
gaining ground. He had his musket aimed for what,
Bastien imagined, was Raeven’s head. With a roar,
Bastien slammed the door open, hitting the soldier’s
horse and startling the beast so it veered off course.
The thin man tried to control the beast as it knocked
over a cart sitting beside a building. Bastien now saw
they were in a narrow lane, but he glanced ahead and
noted the lane opened into a larger street. There were
other carriages about, and if he could stall the soldier
or knock him off the horse, Bastien and Raeven might
disappear in the crowds.
When Bastien looked again, the dark soldier had
the horse back under control and was gaining on
the carriage. Bastien kept one hand on the door and
crouched. As the soldier neared, he sprang, He didn’t
know what he’d intended, perhaps some acrobatic
maneuver whereby he knocked the soldier from the
horse and seated the beast himself.
But he landed on the animal long enough to grab
the soldier’s boot before he slid down and was dragged
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along the road. He held on just until the carriage
wheels were no longer a threat, and then he released
the soldier and tumbled onto the hard lane. As soon as
he came to a stop, he raised his head and watched the
carriage speed away. The thin soldier was fighting to
seat his horse once again, and Raeven was fighting to
slow the carriage’s horses.
With a sigh, Bastien stood up and raced after them.
Raeven had one of the horses by the reins, and she
was pulling with everything she had. But there were
four of the beasts, and even though the one she held
was considering slowing, the other three were not
so obliging.
“Devil take you!” she yelled, turning when she
spotted movement behind her. She frowned. Hadn’t she
told Bastien to deal with that soldier? And then her heart
thudded. What if the soldier had dealt with Bastien?
She chanced a look over her shoulder and saw a
man lying on the road. “Bastien!” But she had no time
for concern. She had to get rid of the soldier before
she could go back to Bastien. A glance ahead told her
she was about to enter a busy street. But if she could
maneuver the carriage into cutting off the soldier
before she did so, she might be rid of him long enough
to go back and collect Bastien.
She measured the distance to the street and decided
she had about two minutes. She released the horse’s
reins and began screaming at the beast. She pushed her
own horse closer to the animal and cursed her poor
horsemanship. She was just as likely to tumble from
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her beast as she was to encourage the carriage horses
to veer right. She screamed again and waved her arms
as she saw the soldier come up on the other side of the
carriage. He was almost level with her.
Another glance forward, and she saw she had
about thirty seconds left. She kicked her mount
hard, jerked his reins, and brought him closer to the
carriage horses. The one beside her shied, screamed,
and veered away.
Yes!
The others began to follow the lead horse, but to be
certain, she screamed again and pushed her mount as
close as she dared. The horses and carriage veered hard
right, trapping the soldier and his mount between the
conveyance and a building. Too late, the soldier tried
to slow his animal, but horse and rider were caught in
a tumble of horses and carriage.
Raeven didn’t stay to watch the debacle. Instead,
she whirled around and rushed back to where she’d
left Bastien. To her relief, he was hobbling toward her.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
At the same time, he called, “Are you mad?”
She slowed her horse and offered him a hand. “I
might be. Get on. Hurry.”
He didn’t argue. He took her hand, swung up
behind her, and grabbed on to her waist. Warmth
flowed though her when his hands were on her again.
It had been so long since she’d felt his touch. But she
pushed down the stabs of arousal and spurred her horse
back the way they’d come. She didn’t think the soldier
would be any threat to them, but she didn’t want to
take any chances. As soon as she saw a narrow alley,
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she cut through it and emerged on a busy street on
the other side.
She slowed the horse to a walk and hoped they
didn’t look too conspicuous. The last thing she needed
was to try and explain herself to the watch.
“Might I ask where we’re going?” Bastien said in
her ear. She shivered and gripped the reins tighter.
“Berkeley Square.” Wherever that was. Wimberley’s
coachman had given her directions, but those were
from the docks. Now she was hopelessly turned around.
“What is in Berkley Square?”
She wanted to see his face when she told him, so
she turned in the saddle and smiled. “It’s where your
brother Julien resides.”
His face remained perfectly blank for three long
seconds, and then he blinked. “What did you say?”
She had to turn forward again, but she was still
smiling. “I said it’s where your brother Julien resides.
I have it on good authority he and his wife live at
Fourteen Berkeley Square.”
Bastien’s grip on her waist tightened. “Is he
expecting us?”
“No. And, I have a confession.”
“Merde.”
She couldn’t stop grinning. It was so good to have him
with her again, even if it was only for an hour or so.
“What’s the confession?” he asked.
She turned to face him. “I have no idea where
Fourteen Berkeley Square is, and I’m afraid if we don’t
find it soon, half the soldiers in London will be after us.”
To his credit, Bastien only closed his eyes and
muttered, “Merde.”
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Eighteen
Julien was alive. Not only was his brother alive,
Bastien thought, but he was alive and had been living
in England for all these years. Bastien had asked a
jarvey to point them in the direction of Berkeley
Square, and if they’d followed the directions correctly,
he and Raeven were only a few blocks away.
In a few moments, he would see his brother again.
Bastien hoped he didn’t bring half the British
Army down on Julien. By now, the soldiers at the
prison would have noted Captain Cutlass was late
in arriving and would be searching for him. When
they found their compatriots and h
eard the story—
assuming the two men were able to tell the story
of Bastien’s escape—they’d scour London looking
for him. Bastien knew his time with his brother
would be short. He intended to search out a vessel
as quickly as possible and return to Gibraltar. The
Shadow stopped there yearly, and he would surely see
Ridley and the rest of his crew again soon. As long
as he steered clear of the British Navy, he’d be free
to carry on as before.
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In front of him, Raeven turned her head to peer
at him. Her hair brushed against his cheek, and he
smelled cherries. He tightened his hands on her
waist and thought how hard it would be to leave
her. But this life of running and hiding was not a
life he wanted for her. She belonged somewhere
safe. Her father would keep her safe. Perhaps he’d
marry her to some respectable Englishman, and
she’d have a dozen children. He’d like that for her.
He’d like to know she was safe and well, married
and a mother.
He couldn’t give her that life.
“That’s it,” Raeven said. “That’s Berkeley Square,
and I believe that’s number fourteen.”
The house was an enormous tower of white. Lights
blazed in the windows, making it appear a beacon
in the darkness. Bastien realized he was holding his
breath as Raeven stopped the horse in front of the
town house. The trees in the park were bare, but the
last of winter was behind them, and Bastien could
imagine the place when surrounded by verdant leaves
and a rainbow of flowers.
Raeven glanced back at him, and he forced himself
to breathe.
“Are you ready?” she asked.
“As I’ll ever be.” He dismounted then helped her
down, as well. She felt warm and soft in his arms. He’d
missed holding her. He would miss holding her.
He’d wanted to marry her, but he realized now
how selfish an idea that had been. He was a pirate with
several prices on his head. He could never give her a
family and home like the one they stood before.
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He started up the walk and felt Raeven hesitate
beside him. “What’s wrong?” he asked.
She glanced down at her black breeches and the
belted black shirt she wore. “I look a fright.” Indeed,
her hair was streaming down her back, and she had