My Fair Lover

by Nicole Jordan

  “That is true. Gabrielle would be none too pleased. I suppose I will settle for harming you.”

  Brandon considered it a fair bargain. Louvel would likely make good the threat to kill him, but at the moment he only cared about keeping Kate safe. He was willing to die if necessary.

  His best and only choice was to buy her time to avoid capture. And he had to pray that she wouldn’t attempt to come after him. Kate was clever and brave, sometimes too brave for her own good.

  Nodding his agreement, Brandon allowed his hands to be tied behind him and a cloth hood to be dragged over his head.

  As they prepared to load him into the wagon, though, he heard footsteps to his left. Then a sharp pain in his head led to total blackness.

  —

  As he struggled to consciousness, his first awareness was of the sway and jostle of a vehicle. He was lying in the bed of the wagon, he realized. In all likelihood, he’d suffered a blow from a cudgel, since Louvel wouldn’t want to risk his defiance.

  He couldn’t tell how long he had been unconscious, nor could he hear voices, so he had no idea how many men were accompanying him, or if Louvel himself was riding beside the wagon, or if the pirate had ordered his minions to dispose of his prisoner while he went to apprehend Kate.

  The thought struck fear in Brandon’s heart, along with a savage anger. There was a chance she had already been seized.

  If any harm came to her, he would kill Louvel with his bare hands. If he could get free. At the moment he was at a supreme disadvantage, unable to protect her or help her in any way. Louvel could be carrying out his revenge at this very moment. Kate could be lying wounded somewhere, or, God forbid, dead.

  Brandon felt his heart give another violent lurch. If she were to die, he couldn’t live with the guilt. He wouldn’t be able to live without her. He wouldn’t want to live without her. Not when he loved her—

  The realization caught him like an unexpected blow to his ribs.

  He was in love with Kate.

  No doubt his affliction had been developing for some time, despite his frequent self-denials. How blind to have only just now recognized his feelings when it might be too late to act on them. He’d waited far too long to come to his senses.

  In truth, he had actually believed he could resist her. He’d sought to avoid any pain or remorse or guilt in his life, fearing being sucked into a spiraling whirlpool of emotion and, yes, love. But with Kate he’d had no choice. There were countless reasons he had fallen—

  The thought splintered with the jagged pain in his head as the wagon rolled over one deep rut and then another.

  Brandon gritted his teeth to hold back a groan. This was certainly not the time or place to be pondering his ardor for Kate.

  Even if they managed to escape this predicament alive, there would still be obstacles. He could still lose her. She didn’t love him yet, and she refused to marry without it. Furthermore, after all the times he’d denigrated her romantic dreams, she might not even believe his sudden profession of love. He would have to prove his sincerity and convince her to give him another chance.

  First, however, he would have to figure a way to escape. It was galling to be this helpless, trussed up like a sheep at shearing time, being carted to his likely death.

  Worse, the woman he loved could be in grave danger from his nemesis, and just now there wasn’t a damned thing he could do about it.

  —

  After futilely waiting nearly half an hour for Deverill to return with the carriage, Kate went in search of him at the livery. Initially, the head ostler was disinclined to answer her queries, but she could tell from his odd apprehension that he had news he didn’t wish to share.

  “What troubles you, monsieur?”

  “I dare not tell you, mademoiselle.”

  When Kate pressed and pleaded, though, he finally mumbled a curse under his breath and revealed that Monsieur Deverill had been taken captive by that dog Louvel. As it turned out, the ostler despised Louvel for hurting his brother some years past but feared incurring the pirate’s wrath.

  Dismay filled Kate as she stared at him. “Where was Deverill taken?” she managed to ask in a hoarse voice.

  Again the ostler hesitated, before confessing that he had overheard talk about a certain cave that filled with the tide. “It is how Louvel keeps his cutthroats in line—by threatening to toss them in the drowning cell.”

  Kate tried to remain calm, but inside she was reeling. “How do I find this cave? Please, if you know, you must tell me.”

  “I know not, mademoiselle. I have never visited there before. I swear it. Although I have heard it is in one of the coves to the south of here.”

  Kate clenched her hands into fists in an effort to stem her fear. By now Louvel could have injured Deverill, or worse. Much worse. Or alternatively, Deverill could have been confined in the cave to drown. If her inexpert calculations were correct, the tide should be coming in about now….Dear heaven, she had to act—but how?

  The wise choice would be to seek help from Captain Halsey, but by then it could be too late to aid Deverill. No, she had to send a message to the captain at Royan and then try to confront Louvel herself. Perhaps she could delay him long enough for help to arrive.

  “I must find Louvel,” she murmured almost to herself.

  “But he did not accompany his fellow tars, mademoiselle.”

  She stared at the ostler. “Where did he go?”

  “I regret, I do not know. Is it possible that he returned to his home and sent his underlings to do the deed without him?”

  The ostler had no more information to share, but at least her promise of an ample reward made him agree to send a message to the harbor at Royan. With an unsteady hand, Kate wrote her note to Halsey and watched as a stable boy was dispatched.

  Then turning, she picked up her skirts and ran.

  —

  She headed directly for Louvel’s house, hoping he was there, praying Gabrielle would help her if not. By the time she arrived at his doorstep, she was panting for breath and frantic with worry, for she couldn’t help imagining what had befallen Deverill.

  Not bothering to knock, Kate burst into the foyer and startled one of the serving maids who was dusting the staircase banister with a feather duster. When the girl stammered that her master was away from home but revealed her mistress’s location, Kate raced to the kitchens, where Gabrielle appeared to be occupied with arranging flowers in a vase.

  “What is the matter?” she exclaimed in alarm.

  Kate put her palms against her midriff as she struggled for air. “It is Louvel! He has taken Deverill…and means to kill him!”

  Gabrielle’s face drained of color. “Surely you are mistaken.”

  “There is no mistake. There were witnesses. He plans to exact retribution and so ordered Deverill apprehended by his men. Please, do you know where I can find Louvel? I must speak to him.”

  Gabrielle shook her head in dismay. “He is not here. He intended to visit the bishop in Royan about a license to wed. You see, shortly after you left, he professed his love for me and offered his hand in marriage—” She frowned deeply as she set down her flowers. “What will you do if you find him?”

  “I am not certain. I can offer to pay a ransom…or I can beg him for mercy—”

  Gently, Gabrielle put her hands on Kate’s upper arms, saying in a calming voice, “You are not thinking clearly, my friend. I know Jean. Once he is slighted, he does not forget. Pray, believe me. It would be best if I entreat him instead. I suspect I am the only one who can persuade him to abandon his quest for vengeance.”

  Her sincere concern had the intended effect on Kate. Inhaling to compose herself, she nodded in agreement. “Yes, you are right. But I cannot stand idly by and do nothing while Deverill dies. At the very least I must try to stop Louvel’s men. What of the place where they took Deverill? A cave that floods with the incoming tide. Can you direct me there?”

  If anything, Gabrielle looked ev
en more alarmed. “Mon Dieu…I will draw you a map.”

  “Yes, please….”

  Carrying pen and paper to the kitchen table, the Frenchwoman quickly began to sketch while speaking out loud. “You will need a horse, Kate. You may borrow one from our stables.”

  “The livery will have horses already saddled. It will be faster if I hire one from there.”

  “But you cannot go alone—”

  “I must. There is no time to waste.”

  “Some of our footmen could accompany you.”

  “You can send them after me if you wish.”

  With the discussion of such specific details, Kate finally began thinking more clearly. Her pistol and dagger were in her valise at the cottage. She should stop there first.

  “The map, Gabrielle,” she urged her friend. “Please hurry.”

  —

  She detoured to the cottage to fetch her weapons, then retraced her steps to the livery, where she claimed a horse and showed the map to the head ostler. Fortuitously, he recognized the inlet where the cave was located and, although still reluctant to risk greater involvement, promised to direct Captain Halsey there if he arrived.

  As soon as possible, Kate set out on the coastal road, which was flanked by a pine forest. Yet once away from Gabrielle’s steadying influence, she could feel panic welling in her stomach again. And even though she managed to find the first junctions and other identifying markings indicated on the map without much difficulty, the journey gave her too much time to think.

  Her darkest imaginings returned to assault her, and in addition to fear, she was filled with regrets and recriminations. Deverill could die without ever knowing how she felt. She had waited too long to tell him of her love. Just now she would have married him in an instant, even if he never returned her regard, but she might never get the chance.

  After some quarter hour, Kate turned off the road, onto a sandy lane that wound down to the estuary and a pretty cove the color of aquamarine.

  Upon reaching the shore, she turned left to ride along a narrow beach toward a rock cliff where the cave was supposedly located. The sun sat at its zenith, making the sand hazy with heat. Soon Kate was perspiring, and yet chilled with nerves at the same time.

  She slowed when, ahead, she glimpsed a waiting wagon and team, along with several saddled horses. But with no sign of their owners in sight, she felt a measure of relief.

  The strip of beach was fast disappearing when she dismounted and made her way on foot. Thankfully, she soon spied an entrance in the rock face of the cliff, worn smooth by centuries of tidal waters. Upon reaching it, Kate paused to hide her dagger under her skirts, tucked inside her garter. Then, taking a deep breath, she gripped her pistol and ducked inside.

  The tunnel was far darker than the beach, but high enough that she could stand upright. Kate knew another temporary moment of relief, for the waves rolling in from the cove had not quite reached the passageway. It was unlikely that Deverill would have drowned just yet.

  However, moisture from sea spray clung to the walls and made the rock surface slippery beneath her feet. Treading warily, she carefully felt her way along the wall. When her eyes grew more accustomed to the dimness, she could see a faint glow at the end of the tunnel, perhaps from a burning torch.

  She had only moved another few steps, though, when a harsh male voice called out in challenge, setting her heart thrashing in her chest.

  —

  Gritting her teeth, Kate disregarded the command to halt and continued moving forward. The tunnel opened into a cave roughly half the size of a country barn. When she stepped inside, she saw three of Louvel’s brigands standing guard at the rear of the cave. However, she failed to notice the fourth who suddenly appeared on her right. She was no match for the brute, so although she put up a struggle, he disarmed her with humiliating ease.

  He grinned, flashing a gold tooth, then taunted her in French. “Now who have we here? You seem to have lost your way, mademoiselle.”

  Ignoring him, Kate glanced around the cave, which was indeed lit by torchlight. No goods were stashed there, but the contraption at the rear of the sloping cave floor resembled a low cage with rusted metal bars. Worse, the sharp downward slant ensured that any seawater entering the tunnel would collect there at the end, submerging the cage, until eventually draining through fissures in the rock with the receding tide.

  The drowning cell, she realized with horror.

  Deverill sat inside, leaning back against the bars, his knees upraised casually but his arms tied behind him. He watched without expression as Kate’s captor herded her toward the cell.

  With a key retrieved from a shelf cut in the rock, the pirate unlocked the padlock that secured the cell door, then shoved her inside. Kate had to crouch to avoid hitting her head, but at the moment she only had eyes for Deverill.

  He looked half angry, half exasperated, and when he spoke, his drawl was biting. “What the devil are you doing here?”

  Taken aback by his ungrateful tone, Kate sank to her knees before him. “I had some notion of trying to prevent your drowning.”

  “All you accomplished was to get yourself captured.”

  Her alarm rose as she searched his face. He must have suffered a head wound for the cravat around his neck was darkly stained where his scalp had bled.

  “You are injured,” she murmured in dismay.

  “It is nothing,” Deverill replied tersely.

  Behind her, one of the pirates called out to the others. “The tide is rising, so we must depart.”

  Looking back in time to see the key being returned to the shelf, Kate heard booted footsteps for a moment, then silence, which suggested that their jailers had snuck out of the cave, leaving her trapped inside the cell with Deverill.

  His ire didn’t diminish just because they were alone, however. “I had hoped you were safely in Royan by now.”

  “Did you honestly expect me to act the coward? Of course I would never leave without you.”

  “I came here without a fight so you would have a chance to escape.”

  Kate’s vexation rose to match his. “So you thought to sacrifice yourself to protect me? I am not amused!”

  A muscle ticked in his cheek, and he looked as if he was trying to bite back a smile. “No?”

  “No. I was mad with worry for you.”

  “As I was for you. However, it was foolish of you to search for me. What did you expect to achieve all by yourself?”

  “I am not entirely witless. I sent a lad to Royan to fetch Captain Halsey.”

  Deverill shook his head. “I had already instructed Halsey to come in search of us if we didn’t appear by noon.”

  “Well, you might have informed me!” Kate began, before realizing they were spending precious moments arguing. “Would you like me to cut you free of your bonds?”

  His expression arrested. “Can you?”

  “Yes. I brought my dagger.”

  Raising the skirt of her gown, she pulled out the sheathed knife. “I didn’t think they would search my person.”

  He stared at her for another instant, then started to laugh. “I should know better than to underestimate you, darling Kate.”

  Crawling around behind him, she applied the sharp blade to the rope that tightly bound his hands, and with effort, managed to slice through the knots.

  Turning then, Deverill leaned closer and hauled her into his arms, his grip so strong and tight she could scarcely draw breath.

  His embrace was infinitely reassuring, even if they might be destined to die together.

  Yet this was not a romantic moment in the least—which made his next action all the more puzzling: Deverill reached behind her and began to take down her hair from its sleek chignon.

  Kate was startled into asking, “What on earth are you doing?”

  “Not seducing you, if that is what you imagine. I need a hairpin if I am to pick the lock.”

  When he found a pin, he held it up to the light and gave a
smile of relish. Then startling her yet again, he cupped her face and kissed her, swift and hard, before crawling across the cell and turning his attention to the padlock.

  “Take heart, princess. We are not defeated just yet. I have no intention of dying here today, much less letting you die.”

  As it happened, however, the bars were too closely spaced for Deverill’s muscular arms to fit between, so he turned the task over to Kate, giving her detailed instruction on what to feel for and how to tease the tumblers.

  It was painstaking work that took precious minutes. Despite the coolness of the cave, Kate was beginning to perspire again when the first trickle of water seeped into the cell, followed shortly by a greater one.

  Fresh fear twisted in her stomach. The cave would fill presently and the entire cell would be underwater, rendering them unable to breathe. Heaven help us.

  “Steady,” Deverill urged. “Take your time.”

  Biting her lip, Kate reapplied herself to her task. He doled out more encouraging words while the passing seconds ticked by in her head.

  Her skirts were soaked with seawater by now, and Kate was about to utter an oath of despair at her lack of progress when Deverill’s head jerked up. “Someone is coming.”

  Kate followed his gaze to the tunnel entrance. It was then that she heard a sound that was sweet music to her ears: Gabrielle’s voice whispering in French, “Kate, mon amie, are you here?”

  “Yes, Gabrielle!” Kate called out. “We are here, locked inside the cell!”

  Entering the cave, the Frenchwoman rushed toward them. “Mon dieu, I did not believe Jean would truly attempt murder….”

  “You were mistaken, as you can see,” Deverill said dryly. “Are you alone?” he added in an oddly suspicious voice.

  “But, yes,” Gabrielle answered. “When Jean did not return from Royan, I feared it would be too late to save you, so I came in search of you.” She held up a fist-sized rock. “With this I shall attempt to break the lock.”

  “There is no need. The key is on the shelf, there to your left.”

  When she fetched the key, an enormous relief filled Kate—evidently a premature reaction, for Gabrielle paused. “Please, I must have your promise. I will gladly release you if you swear you will not seek revenge and harm my Jean.”