by Cheryl Bolen
"What's the matter?" she asked. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"
"Now, how would I know that?"
"I thought of how we can unbind our hands."
As soon as she spoke, he, too, realized how they could. Had he not been so blasted besotted over her, he would have made a much more capable spy. How could he have failed to recognize the bloody obvious? "Yes, my love," he lied. "I wish for those slender fingers of yours to untie my sash."
Still seated, they spun around, back to back, and she went to work at the laborious task of untying the knots. When she finished, he untied hers.
"Now can we make love?" she asked.
"Not now, love. If my memory serves me right, the ceiling in this room is rather low."
"It is low. Not much taller than you, but what does that have to do with anything?"
"I'm going to get us out of this damned building. I'll position myself like a dog, and I wish for you to stand on top of me. I'm hoping you'll be able to punch at the ceiling."
He got in the dog position and she climbed on top him. "Oh, drat! I'm not tall enough," she said, "but I do believe you are."
"I cannot stand on your back."
"Of course you can."
"I know I could, but you, my lady love, could never support my weight."
"Try me."
"I might hurt you."
"How about, instead of me doing the doggie thing, I stand up, put my head to my knees, and you could step on my rump?"
That did sound less hurtful. "I suppose it's worth a try, but you must promise you'll let me know if I hurt you."
"Why? I'd rather live with an injured back than die with a good one."
"You do have a point."
"Then we'll try it?"
"Yes."
He listened as she scurried into position. "I'm ready, darling."
At that moment he realized it was deuced difficult to climb up something when one was deprived the use of one's eyes. First, he bumped rears to gauge her position, then he reversed. A good thing he was possessed of very long legs. "You'll need to try not to collapse when I put my weight upon you." He set one boot upon her small, well-muscled bottom, then hoisted his weight forward onto it.
They both toppled.
"I do promise I'll do better next time," she said. She got right back up and repositioned herself. "I'm ready."
He repeated his try. And this time they both held. As he raised himself up from her buttocks, the top of his head touched the roof. One good heave with all his strength, and he broke through the rotten roof!
Chapter 28
That one chink in the roof was enough to allow an arrow of diffused light into the room. When she looked up and saw him standing there, his beloved head framed like a glowing halo, a profound joy strummed through her. Everything she could ever want from life was right here in this musty chamber. She could sing to the heavens with her deep satisfaction. Jack loved her. Jack would save them. He truly was the greatest spy in the universe. Even if he didn't like her to think of him in superlative terms.
"Oh, Jack, you did it!" she squealed after he landed on the creaking wooden floor.
He shrugged. "But now what?"
"We keep ramming it until it caves in."
"And then?"
"We scream for help?"
"No one would hear us, except the damned guard on the pavement below. Did you not see how deserted this area is?"
"Then we simply must think of something to do with the roof timbers when they come crashing in."
Her gaze never left his as he moved to her. Even in the dim pre-dawn light she could see the love shining in his eyes. When his eyes came so close they seemed almost an extension of herself and when his mouth closed over hers she was possessed of the unshakable feeling they were two kernels in a single shell. "You are brilliant!" he said, then he kissed her.
For the next half hour he leaped upon her bottom, heaved into the sagging ceiling, then hopped down again. She dare not tell him how badly her knee throbbed or how bruised her bottom was becoming. He was far too concerned over the odd bits of wood that had slapped into her. Though they had succeeded in creating a huge gap in the roof, she was beginning to despair because they had yet to reap any sizeable pieces of timber, when suddenly a whole section of the remaining roof groaned, then came crashing into the room. Jack barely managed to shove her out of its path.
When everything settled, she addressed him. "And what, my dearest captain, do you propose to do now?"
He smiled at her. "We hope the door's as rotten as the roof."
Now she understood. He meant to ram the huge rafter against the ancient door. "Can I help?"
"I'll go it on my own first." He lifted the fallen beam until it was perfectly perpendicular to the door, then he began to shove the eight-foot length against the door. Nothing. But the door had creaked. Using his feet, he pulled it back, then rammed it in again. A deeper creak.
He tried again. This time the wood splintered. The next time the fissure grew deeper. And deeper the next time. Five more tries and the beam broke through the ancient door, leaving a hole large enough for a small child to squeeze through.
By now dawn had filled the room with hazy light, and she watched helplessly as Jack drew a long breath, sweat drenching his brow. She silently went to the door and kicked the ragged edge of the opening to enlarge it, then turned to him. "You were wonderful!"
He stood. "Let's get out of here."
She gathered up her spectacles and the sash that had bound Jack. "We may need this."
Nodding, he waved her through the opening first. The rough edges of its splintered wood snagged her dress, and when she went to put weight on her right knee, it buckled. Not wanting Jack to worry about her, she quickly shifted all her weight to the left leg. As he squeezed through after her, she began to limp down the dimly lit stairwell.
"Careful of the boards," he warned. "They're bound to be rotten, and I shouldn't want to lose you now."
She turned back and gazed up at him, love swelling in her chest, as he stood looking down at her.
"How will we get past the guard?" she asked, her voice a hoarse whisper.
"I'll surprise him."
"But he's likely armed, and you, my dearest, have no weapon."
"But I shall have the element of surprise."
Her brows lowered. "Do be careful."
He was already moving stealthily down the creaking stairs, index finger to his lips.
When they reached the foot of the stairs, she said, "Allow me to go first. He's not apt to harm me. Once I've distracted him, you can leap out and do him in."
Smiling, Jack nodded.
Daphne eased open the door and limped out into the dawn.
"What the bloody hell?" her captor yelled when he looked up at her.
Ignoring him, she strode toward his tethered horse in an effort to draw his attention away from the door.
Her ploy worked. As soon as he turned his back to the door, Jack charged out, lunging at the man and bringing him to the ground. Though Jack was a large man, he had no size advantage over his enemy--a fact that terrified Daphne as she watched the two pummel and pound each other. She was powerless to turn away from the horrifying sight. What if she needed to intervene to save Jack? What if the wretched man pulled a knife?
The more she watched, the more confident she grew over Jack's superiority. He skillfully pinned down the other man, then immobilized his flailing, wiggling body by straddling him.
She drew a deep breath. If the man did not procure the knife she knew must be concealed upon his person, Jack would win this match. She stepped closer. "If you can hold his hands, I can tie them."
"I can still smash yer face," their opponent snarled at Daphne, hatred blazing in his green eyes when he flicked his gaze to her. A strong man, he would not be overpowered by Jack. She could not bear to watch his fists pounding into Jack.
Perhaps she could help. She approached them and with both her hands grab
bed his left hand and held it firmly down beside him, then sat on his arm, an act that launched a string of vile words from him. While the wretched man continued with his positively filthy verbal assault, she proceeded to tie the rope around his wrists.
"Go through his pockets and see what keys he has," Jack instructed.
First she relieved the man of a nasty looking knife, but the search of his pockets netted but one key. Since he had been the one to lock her in the room with the now-shattered door yesterday afternoon, she knew this key would now be useless. "Just one key," she said.
"Did he lock you up there yesterday?" Jack asked.
She nodded. "Since we can't lock him up, what do you propose we do with him?"
Jack thought on it for a moment. "Do you think you can go back upstairs and get the rope? We could use that to tie his feet together."
More vile language erupted from the prone man.
A few minutes later, she returned with the rope, and Jack secured his feet, then dragged him into the abandoned building where he left him lying on the floor.
Shutting the door behind them, she looked up at Jack. "Now what?"
"I'm going to the comtesse's while you go to Carlton House and tell the regent everything. Have him send Horse Guards to her house."
Daphne's heart stopped. "You can't go there alone! That wicked duc will kill you."
"I've denied him before."
"But this time you're not armed."
He stepped up to her and settled his hands upon her shoulders. "I'm not so stupid I'd go there unarmed."
Her fury with this hard-headed man was mounting. "Why can you not wait and come with the prince's soldiers?"
"Because I've waited a very long time to capture the duc d'Arblier. Don't deny me this pleasure."
"That's ridiculous! What difference does it make if you capture him single handedly?"
"Seeing him tremble in trepidation will give me great joy."
"How can you be so silly? You would jeopardize your own well-being in order to enjoy a moment's gloating?"
"I won't be jeopardizing my well-being, Daphne."
She could see that she had little control over him. "You promise you'll not enter the house without a weapon?"
"I promise." He strode to the horse and untied it, then assisted Daphne up before he mounted it himself, sitting behind her.
When his arm closed around her, she could not dispel the memory of the previous afternoon's ride when her wretched captor had ridden off with her to the East End. What an utter fool she had been!
Since there was little commerce at this early hour, they were able to move swiftly through the empty streets.
When they reached his hotel, he kissed her and leaped from the mount. "I'll procure my sword and knife, then it will be but a short walk to the comtesse's."
"Be careful," she said.
"Be quick."
* * *
Ten minutes later, a saber at his side, a knife strapped around his ankle beneath his Hessians, Jack strolled up to the comtesse's townhouse. He dismissed the notion of sneaking in the back. He could not expect that door to be unlocked a second time. Instead he brazenly climbed the steps and knocked upon the front door.
Owing to the early hour, it was a few minutes before a sleepy footman answered his knock. Jack stuck a boot in the door then strode in. "I've come to see your mistress."
"Ye can't call on her at this hour!"
"Oh, but I can." Jack stalked to the stairs. "I know the way."
He marched up one flight of steps, then began to mount the second, and there at the top stood the duc d'Arblier--with a smile on his face and a sword in his hand.
Chapter 29
"Allow me to say how happy I am that we're having this meeting," Jack said, drawing his saber. He'd be at a deuced disadvantage if the duc kept coming forward, which would force Jack to go backwards on the stairs, but Jack had complete confidence in his own abilities. No one had bested him yet.
"En guarde," Jack said, sprinting up two steps and lunging at the duc, whose broadside was quicker than Jack would have thought, given the facts that the Frenchman was a decade his senior and that his broadside was a great deal heavier than Jack's saber.
The duc deflected Jack's attack, then without removing his eyes from Jack's, backed up one step.
Jack moved up two. He would have the advantage if he could get his opponent up to the landing.
The two men eyed each other for a moment. "You're good, Captain, but not as good as I." As gracefully as an acrobat, the duc advanced, his blade aimed at Jack's heart.
Jack parried his thrust, but was forced to take two steps back. He hoped like hell he wouldn't go stumbling backward. He repositioned himself and engaged the duc in a series of swift thrusts and parries. Fortunately, he was a great deal taller than his opponent so despite that the duc stood a foot and half above him on the stairway, Jack was able to begin driving him back up the steps.
Though the duc was an accomplished swordsman, his weakness lay in moving backward--a weakness Jack meant to turn into his own advantage.
One more advantage Jack meant to capitalize on was his own quickness. Ten years earlier, the duc may have been as quick as he, but not now.
With a series of quick attacks the duc managed to ward off, Jack drove him up the stairs, forcing his opponent backwards. Each time the duc lunged, Jack blocked him and drove him up farther.
When they neared the top of the stairs the Frenchman twirled away and leapt up to the landing in one fluid movement.
In six strides, Jack faced him, five feet separating the enemies, who now stood on equal footing. This was the first time Jack had ever fought to kill, but nothing short of the duc's death would satisfy. He had to do this for Edwards.
After taking a fleeting survey of his surroundings, Jack decided to drive his opponent into a richly paneled corner. Then go in for the kill.
His feet and hands as quick as a panther, Jack attacked once more. And once more the duc parried. But not as quickly as before. He was getting tired, and Jack meant to wear him out. On the next attack, Jack's saber ripped the Frenchman's coat. Blood oozed from his side.
Jack would not relent. He lunged again, and this time the duc, in an effort to avoid a hit, stumbled backward, hanging on to the hilt of his sword as he fell to the wooden floor and tried to squirm away from Jack.
"Don't expect any mercy," Jack said, planting one boot on the fallen duc's chest, the other on the Frenchman's wrist, just inches above his sword. "You'll get exactly what you gave to Edwards. He wasn't allowed to die in a fair fight. You ambushed and murdered him."
The Frenchman glared up at Jack. "But killing you, Captain, was always my goal."
As Jack went to drive his saber into his opponent's heart, a ring of burly servants--all of them armed--collapsed around Jack, one of them holding a dagger to his throat until it drew blood.
"Remove your foot from his grace, sil vous plait," the man holding the dagger said, his voice heavily accented.
To defend himself against a half dozen armed men would be complete madness, but to do nothing would also mean certain death.
He complied with the Frenchman's request.
The dilemma of whether to lay down his sword or not was taken from him when the front door burst open, and armed Horse Guards flooded the first floor, half of them mounting the stairs, swords drawn. This had the effect of dispersing the French hooligans who surrounded him.
Jack heard Daphne's voice and turned.
"Don't harm that man in dark blue!" she yelled as she flew up the stairs. "He's one of us."
When Jack turned back around, the duc was gone. Bloody hell! He could not let himself come so close and not taste victory. On the floor where the duc had lain, Jack saw splotches of fresh red blood. The duc's. He followed the crimson drops down the servant's stairway where they led to the back door.
Fast on his heels came Daphne. "You're hurt!" she exclaimed when she saw his bloody cravat.
&n
bsp; "I'm fine. I've got to go after d'Arblier!"
"You're not fine! You're bleeding."
By then a dozen Guards had stormed down the servants' stairs.
"Go after that Frenchman!" she instructed them, then glared at Jack. "You're not going anywhere until that wound has been examined."
He went to push her away. "I'm fine, I tell you."
But the Guards did not agree. While half of them pursued the Frenchman, the other half surrounded Jack and began to untie his cravat despite his most vigorous protests.
"Don't listen to him," Daphne instructed. "This man is vital to England. If you don't believe me, ask the Prince Regent."
"Indeed he is," the regent said.
All eyes turned upon the winded Prince Regent, who was laboring up the stairs. "Captain Dryden is his majesty's finest spy."
Chapter 30
Clutching Jack's hand as they sat together alongside their sovereign in his magnificent dark blue velvet room at Carlton House, Daphne's stomach churned with apprehension. The regent had summoned her parents. All her lies would be revealed. More than that, she feared her father would malign Jack for not being noble enough for his daughter.
No matter what her parents said, she was determined to marry him. But she did not want to gain Jack at the loss of her family.
She and Jack had grown so close that he understood the turmoil that ravaged her. Undaunted by the Prince Regent's proximity, Jack kissed her hand. "I'm not good enough for you, you know. I've bloody well botched everything."
"Nonsense!" the regent said. "Because of you, we've been able to arrest that vile Frenchwoman and all the traitors who worked for her. Because of you, I'm now free to leave Carlton House, and the threats against my daughter and I will cease."
Jack frowned. "But d'Arblier's still at large!"
The regent shrugged. "I daresay he's half way to France as we speak. A pity we did not get to his yacht before it sailed down the Thames." The prince peered sympathetically at Jack. "You can be assured, Captain, that he will not dare to step foot on British soil ever again."