“Where have you been?” Drake demanded, knowing Sebastianne had told her brother not to stray from the grounds. “You know you weren’t supposed to leave.”
For a second, Julien had the grace to look guilty, breath coming rapidly from his still heaving lungs. “You should be glad I did,” he panted. “I went to visit Marc, and on the way back, I saw him.”
The instinct inside Drake came wide-awake. “Him? Who do you mean?”
“The man,” Julien said. “The one who was here last autumn before Sebastianne went away. The one who scares her. I followed him and . . .”
“And—” Drake encouraged, his heart pounding with sick dread.
“He stopped her as she was walking home. I couldn’t hear everything they said, but he wants something from her and said it was time for her to honor her side of the bargain.”
Which could mean only one thing—Vacheau had returned and wanted the cipher.
Plague take it, Drake cursed, as he took a couple of pacing steps. He knew they ought to have left first thing that morning rather than delaying their departure. Why had he given in to Sebastianne’s need to wrap up loose ends and bid farewell to her neighbor? Instead, he ought to have insisted each of them pack a bag and start out at first light.
“Where is she now?” Drake said urgently. “With him?”
Julien nodded. “They went toward the caves. I followed long enough to see where they were headed, then I ran straight here.”
“Good thinking. Can you find them again? There are a lot of caves around here.”
“I’ve climbed all the cliffs and caves a hundred times and I—” He broke off, realizing what he’d just admitted. “That is—you won’t tell Sebastianne, will you?”
“If I find her unharmed, I’ll never say a word. Right now, it wouldn’t matter to me if you’d climbed a thousand cliffs, I just want to find Sebastianne and get her away from that bast—”
“Bastard?” Julien supplied helpfully.
Drake narrowed his eyes. “Are you sure you’re only thirteen?”
Julien grinned, the pair of them suddenly in complete accord.
“Come on,” Drake said. “Let’s go. We haven’t a moment to waste. When we arrive, though, I want your word you’ll come straight back here to the cottage. It won’t do any good having all of us at the caves while your brother and father are alone at home. I want you there to look after them.”
A frown creased Julien’s forehead, as if he might argue over being cut out of the action. Still, he straightened to his full height, clearly proud to be given the adult responsibility of looking after his family’s welfare. “Very well, I shall return home. What about the man with Sebastianne? It will just be you and him, and I think he has a gun.”
“So do I,” Drake reassured, patting the small weapon tucked inside his coat pocket. “Not to worry, I’ll make sure your sister is safe and that he has cause never to bother her again.”
After many long minutes of walking, Sebastianne came to a halt at the base of a long, high cliff. Perspiration dampened the back of her dress, but she knew it had nothing to do with exertion. She’d traveled this path many times over the years and had never shown effects from the effort—until today.
“This is it,” she stated. “This is the place.”
Vacheau glanced around, then up, his lip curling as he surveyed a series of openings hewn high into the sides of the rock. “Here, hmm? All I see is a lot of vegetation and stone.”
“The cipher is hidden in one of these caves. I’ll tell you which one and where to find the code. But first, we have a trade to conduct.”
His eyes narrowed rather like a snake observing a mouse, as a soft chuckle escaped his mouth. “You are a marvel, Madame Dumont, and never fail to amuse and amaze me. You must imagine I’m an idiot if you think I am going to give you anything before I have the cipher in my possession. The real cipher.”
Brandishing a pistol, he waved it toward her. “Go on. You show me which cave you’ve tucked it inside, and I shall follow.”
Ignoring the slick churn in her middle, she shook her head and held out her palm, forcing her fingers not to tremble. “The writ first, then we’ll go. I want a chance to see what it is I’m trading the cipher for. After all, how do I know the writ is real?”
His face darkened, a muscle twitching near his jaw. “It’s real, all right. My superiors were very displeased to be put to the bother of producing it.”
“Landed you in an awkward position, did I?”
“Why, you little bitch—”
“Insulting me won’t get you what you want,” she stated with far more bravado than she felt.
“Shooting you might.”
“I’m afraid that won’t do either. As I said once before, if you harm me or mine, I’ll never tell. I will go to my grave with the secret.”
Which is where I’m likely to end up no matter how I may attempt to outwit him, she knew.
Her only hope was to delay him long enough for Drake to come. But Drake had no idea where she was, she realized with a sinking heart. By the time he found her, it might well be too late. She could only hope that if the worst happened, and she died, he would keep his promise to care for her father and brothers.
“The writ, if you please,” she said, extending her hand. “Then I shall tell you the location of the cipher.”
His finger tightened on the gun, and, for an instant, she thought he was actually going to shoot her. Instead, he growled out a vivid curse and reached inside his coat. With another curse, he tossed the paper on the ground at her feet.
Deciding not to give him an opportunity to change his mind, she bent and scooped up the document. Unfolding it, she took a moment to study the darkly elaborate script with Ministère de Guerre written large at the top. At the bottom, beneath a great deal of official-looking text, lay a nearly indistinguishable scrawl. Peering closer, she saw what appeared to be the signature of Napoleon himself.
“Enough delaying,” Vacheau said in a harsh voice. “You’ve got the writ, now give me that damned cipher. And it had better work this time, or so help me God I’ll track you down no matter where you may go. There’ll be no place on the face of the earth you can hide.”
“It will work,” she said, wishing there was some way to avoid giving him the complete code. Once she put it in his hands, she truly would be a traitor to both her mother’s country and to Drake. But what choice did she have? For, in spite of her brave words, she wasn’t ready yet to die.
“It’s up there in a cave behind that thicket of wild roses and vines,” she told him truthfully. “Climb up along the cliff path, and you’ll see the opening.”
Vacheau gestured with the gun. “You climb up and show me. I’ll follow. Go on, before I change my mind about putting a bullet in you.”
Unable to control the full-body shiver that moved through her, she drew a breath and walked forward.
Drake reached the cliffs and had just sent Julien back home when he caught sight of Sebastianne and a man he could only assume was Vacheau, standing many feet above on the cliff path. As he watched, the two of them disappeared behind a screen of foliage into what must be a concealed cave.
The hiding spot, he realized. The one Sebastianne had told him about. His gut clenched at the thought of her alone with Vacheau, and what the other man might do once he had the code in his possession.
Leaving his own place of concealment, Drake ran to the cliff path. Taking care to hug the rock face as much as possible to escape notice, he made his way up.
Roses sweetened the air on the ledge not far from the cave entrance, the scent seeming oddly incongruous to both the place and the occasion. Silently withdrawing the pistol from his coat pocket, he crept closer, wondering how best to go in after Sebastianne without revealing his presence. Making a rescue attempt wouldn’t do her any good if he went charging i
n only to find Vacheau armed and waiting for him.
The decision was taken out of his hands moments later, however, when Vacheau emerged from the cave, the man pausing to tear at a few pieces of vine that clung to his hair and around his shoulders.
Sebastianne did not follow after him.
A hard kick of dread caught Drake just beneath his breastbone. Forcing aside the sensation, he stepped forward and pointed his gun at the center of the other man’s chest. “Where is she?” he demanded. “Where is Sebastianne?”
Vacheau’s eyes widened in obvious surprise as he turned to face Drake. “Byron? Is that you?” he said in precise English. “How unexpected. I must say this is an honor since I feel as if you and I are old and dear acquaintances. I know so much about you, you see.”
“I know almost nothing about you, other than the fact that you are a liar, a spy and a murderer.”
A slow smile curled over Vacheau’s lips, rather like a cat who’d just chanced upon unanticipated prey. “Then you do know me, much better than you think. I’m flattered.”
“Don’t be.”
“I have to admit I am surprised to see you here,” Vacheau continued. “I hadn’t realized you’d managed to slip into the country. Obviously, our intelligence measures aren’t as infallible as the government would like to imagine.”
“I would have to agree with you about a lack of intelligence,” Drake said. “If you French had any brains, you wouldn’t have had to resort to stealing my work in the first place.”
Vacheau’s dark eyes hardened, but his smile didn’t waver.
“What have you done with Madame Dumont?” Drake continued. “Did you force her to give the code to you?”
Vacheau made a tsking noise. “ ‘Force’ is such a harsh word. ‘Suggested’ might be a more apt description. I used my gun to suggest she turn it over to me.”
Drake’s heart stopped, missing a full beat. For a moment, he couldn’t breathe, his hand tightening reflexively against the gun. Dear God, is she dead? he thought. Has the blackguard killed her?
If he had, Drake vowed, then Vacheau was about to die too.
“Frankly, I’m surprised you have such a care for Madame Dumont, or should I say Mrs. Greenway, since that is how you knew her in London, did you not?” Vacheau remarked. “Were the two of you lovers? I must confess I have wondered about that, and just how far she went to gain your confidence.”
Drake didn’t answer, refusing to take part in the other man’s game.
Vacheau continued to smile. “Considering how falsely she played you, I would think you would be more interested in exacting revenge rather than providing her aid.”
“It would seem she played you false too from what I understand. She was supposed to have given you the cipher, but she didn’t. At least not a version that worked.”
“Yes, but I have it now.”
“Do you? Are you certain?” Drake questioned, deciding to play his own game. If he could shake Vacheau’s focus, he might have a chance of disarming him. Only then would he be able to go after Sebastianne.
“You’re right about wanting revenge against my former housekeeper—and lover. But that’s not the only reason I went to the bother of following her all the way to France. I came to retrieve the code, and it would seem I beat you to it. She told me where she hid the cipher, and I took care of the rest. Whatever she gave you just now, it’s useless.”
Vacheau’s eyes narrowed, flashing with fury and disbelief. “You lie. She wouldn’t have told you about this cave or where she put the code.”
“Wouldn’t she? She’s not the only one who can use an intimate relationship to suit their own purposes. I told her what she wanted to hear, and in turn she told me about the cipher, and about you. By the way, she says you’re a fool when it comes to mathematics and that you barely know the difference between an equals sign and a minus. Given how she duped you with the first copy of the code, I confess I must agree.”
A growl rumbled in Vacheau’s throat, the gun trembling in his hand. Abruptly, he glanced sideways, back toward the cave.
Knowing it might be the only chance he got, Drake sprang forward and reached for the other man’s gun. But quick as a cobra, Vacheau deflected his advance, sending Drake’s own gun skidding away out of reach.
Straightening, Vacheau raised his weapon and prepared to shoot.
A woman’s scream split the air, jarring them both and causing Vacheau’s shot to go wide.
Drake glanced toward the sound and saw Sebastianne, standing just beyond the cave entrance, clinging to its side.
His heart leapt with joy to know she was alive, but sank again when he noticed the thin, wet lines of blood staining her temple and cheek. She was hurt, how seriously he couldn’t tell.
He realized that his moment of distraction had cost him when he saw Vacheau recover and raise his gun again to fire. Acting purely on instinct, Drake ducked and ran.
The second shot whizzed past his head, so close he actually heard the humming speed of the bullet and felt its heat. Above his head, bits of rock splintered wildly, pulverized rock raining down onto his head and hair.
A breeze rose up just then, taking fragments of rock dust with it as it blew straight into Vacheau’s face. Frantically, the Frenchman wiped at his eyes to clear his vision, stumbling backward as he did.
Instinctively, Drake called out a warning, as Vacheau’s feet came perilously close to the path’s outer edge, pebbles flying off into the void to make the fifty-foot drop to the earth below.
His eyes streaming, Vacheau sneered at Drake, showing his teeth in a jeering grin. “Nice try, Byron. Do you think you can trick me again, you and that conniving bitch? I should have killed her back in the cave when I had the chance.”
He shifted slightly, seemingly oblivious to his position along the ledge. “I thought it would be a more fitting punishment to do what I’d originally planned and send her dotty old father off to prison and her brothers to serve and die in the Army. Seeing them go would have been worse than death to her.
“Did she tell you that was how I convinced her to steal the cipher in the first place? If she didn’t have such a soft heart, that was so easy to exploit, we’d never have gotten close to you. But as I warned my superiors, never send a woman to do a man’s job.”
Vacheau’s expression turned merciless. “Now, I want that code, the real code, since I can’t go back without it. One more error, and my life will be the one in jeopardy.”
Reaching into his coat, Vacheau withdrew another gun. “Did I fail to mention that I always travel with a spare? One never knows when an extra weapon will come in handy.” Smiling, he raised the pistol. As he did, the earth crumbled away from his feet, rock sliding from beneath him as the edge of the path gave way.
With a scream, Vacheau fell and disappeared from sight.
Drake raced forward, and to his astonishment discovered the other man still alive and dangling one-handed from what remained of the cliff edge, his spare weapon no longer in his grasp.
By rights, Drake knew he ought to let the man die, he deserved no less. But, unlike Vacheau, he was no murderer. Dropping onto his stomach, he inched forward and stretched out a hand. “Grab hold,” he called.
Vacheau stared up, his dark gaze locking with Drake’s. He hesitated for what seemed an eternity, then finally extended his hand. Catching hold, Drake began to pull him up.
But rather than aiding him, Vacheau let his weight drop, so that Drake was the one being pulled down.
“There’s nothing left for me if I fail,” Vacheau called. “If I’ve got to die, the least I can do for my country is take you with me.”
“Don’t be a fool, man,” Drake told him. “I lied about the cipher. It is real. Let me pull you up.”
Vacheau’s eyes blazed. “I don’t believe you. It’s just another trick.”
But
even if he had believed him, it was too late, Vacheau’s grip was too precarious now for him to recover. Desperately, he clutched at Drake, but Vacheau’s weight kept pulling Drake closer to the edge. Drake’s heart pumped violently in his ears, time slowing as he fought to keep his balance on the ledge, digging in with every ounce of strength he possessed to stop the inexorable slide forward.
Suddenly, a pair of arms came around him, locking at his waist and chest to pull him back. Sebastianne’s arms, clutching him, holding him, as she too strained to keep him from going over the edge—to keep him alive, even at the cost of her own safety, her own life.
With a fierce bellow, he felt Vacheau’s hand begin to slip as pain radiated through the bone and muscle of his arm and up into his shoulder. His skin grew slick, Vacheau’s fingers slipping another inch against his own. Their eyes met one last time, then suddenly he was gone, Vacheau falling untethered through the air.
Drake closed his eyes.
With a great, shuddering heave, he flung himself and Sebastianne away from the edge, rolling the two of them back from the precipice.
Chapter 32
She and Drake clung together, her face pressed into the vital, breathing warmth of his chest. He was alive, and by some miracle, so was she.
When she’d seen Drake being pulled over the cliff, she’d done the only thing she could think of to save him. For several long, terrifying moments, while they teetered together on the brink, she’d thought Vacheau would win. She’d feared that he would have his final revenge by sending all three of them to their deaths.
But somehow she and Drake had won, somehow they’d survived.
Exercising great care, Drake slowly eased them both into a sitting position, moving them a safe distance away from the ledge. She wasn’t entirely sure how he managed, but he did it all without once loosening his hold on her.
“Are you all right?” he murmured as he cradled her against him.
She nodded, then winced as the movement sent a stab of pain through her head. She must have moaned as well since deep lines of concern gathered on Drake’s forehead.
The Bed and the Bachelor Page 30