“In front of her ladyship?” Banion mocked. “How very vulgar.”
“Oh, I doubt her ladyship falls to pieces at the sight of a little violence,” Louis said indifferently.
“And what of him?” Banion asked with a hint of desperation, gesturing wildly with his eyes toward the road. “Are you ready to cut his throat, too, now you have gone over to the enemy?”
Louis’s arm tightened at his enemy’s throat. “Just yours. Never equate personal enmity with the patriotic variety.”
“Does she?” Banion demanded, staring pleadingly at Anna. “Does she even know you are French?”
Anna laughed. “I even know you are.” But unease slid up her spine, a warning of… Something rustled in the grass. “Louis,” she said urgently, but he was already looking around.
Men rose up out of the darkness, blades glinting in the lantern light.
“Go,” Louis commanded. “Run.” He swung around to face the oncoming men, holding Banion—Gosselin—like a shield in front of him.
Anna held her breath, but the piratical newcomers, surely more of Alban’s men, advanced without hesitation. Gosselin meant nothing to them.
Before she could tell Louis so, he released his enemy, pushing him so hard he stumbled to the ground. “You were followed, you imbecile!” Louis snarled, then sprang toward the pirates with a last yell of, “Anna, run!”
Anna ran, though only to circle around and approach the attacking men from the other side. Without conscious thought, she had drawn her favorite stiletto from her pocket.
Louis swung back to avoid the vicious swing of a knife, taking advantage of the wielder’s subsequent imbalance to punch him hard in the jaw. As he fell, someone tried to seize Louis from behind, and was hurled backward by Louis’s elbow and a backward kick. Someone else fell under his fist, but despite the dagger that appeared suddenly in his hand, he was far too badly outnumbered not to be beaten.
Anna’s ears sang with fear and fury as she threw herself toward the fray. Or perhaps it was her own screaming. Louis could not die. He must not die, whoever he was, whatever he had done, whatever he had made her feel. Her heart pounded. Or at least, she thought it was her heart, but then, suddenly, it was horses’ hooves. Chessy neighed loudly in her ear and then, before she could do more than haul someone back by his coat tails, hands seized her, yanking her up and onto Chessy’s back.
Stupidly, she thought for an instant it had to be Louis, but when she peered over her shoulder, he had paused on the ground to stare after her. And then Alban’s men hurled themselves at him and she didn’t see how he could survive.
It was Banion who had somehow caught and mounted Chessy, and then seized her.
“Stop!” she yelled into Banion’s face. “Help him!”
“Trust me, he will help himself,” Banion said grimly. “He always does.”
“But he is wounded! He cannot fight all of them. At the very best, his wound will open again…”
But Banion was not listening. Taking matters into her own hands, Anna threw herself forward and seized the reins, hauling on them to slow Chessy and turn her back.
Banion swore in French, seizing back the reins. “Don’t be stupid! He will follow you!”
It made her pause, partly because he clearly wanted Louis to follow her. Why was that, when Louis was his sworn enemy? And how the devil could he when at least six pirates were beating him, killing him…
Banion’s arm tightened around her waist, holding her in place while he tried to turn the horse once more. Revulsion swept over Anna. From sheer instinct, as Chessy slowed, she wrenched herself out of Banion’s grasp and threw herself to the ground. Chessy pulled up at last, and Banion shifted the horse, trying to block Anna’s way back. At the same time, he reached down with one hand to help her back up.
“I won’t hurt you,” he promised. “But you must come with me.” He grasped her shoulder. “It’s the only way.”
“No, it isn’t,” Anna said, lashing out with her stiletto.
His surprised yell of pain rent the darkness, but Anna didn’t wait to see the result of her action. All but sobbing, she ran back to the fight.
But she could no longer see anyone.
*
When Louis had told Anna to run, he immediately hurled himself at Alban’s men to give her time. But he was under no illusions. Fit and well, he might have given a reasonable account of himself but the outcome would have been no different, not against six fighting sailors trained by Alban. On the other hand, it had not been part of his plan for Anna to escape in Gosselin’s company. That terrified him more than anything.
His wound screamed in agony as a blow landed on it, and his left arm suddenly wouldn’t obey him. He staggered back, knocking someone aside as he went. But his worst fear now was that he would be left unconscious or too weak to save Anna.
He straightened, circling as they all closed in on him. “Very well,” he said amiably. “You’ve had your fun. Now take me to the captain before I feel obliged to explain your excessive enthusiasm.”
“That’s exactly where you’re going,” someone said aggressively. “You were following the captain.”
“That wasn’t me, you imbecile! The man who followed him has just ridden off! I was merely on my way to see Captain Alban when I found that fellow skulking in the grass.”
“Then why did you attack us?” one of the men demanded, picking up a fallen lantern.
The light shone clearly on the sailor’s face, and with relief Louis recognized him. Rummaging in his mind for the man’s name, he replied, “Because I’d no idea who the devil you were. It never entered my head Captain Alban would have more men following so far behind. I apologize for hurting you, Cobb.”
The name rushed back to him as well as several others connected to those men. They’d travelled on the same ship to England. These men had locked him up, fed him each day, and Louis had listened by habit to every interaction he could.
Cobb frowned at the use of his name.
Louis laughed and waved one arm toward the road. “You don’t remember me, do you? Come, let’s get to Roseley as quickly as possible so that I can discharge my business with the captain. Lead on, Brandy!”
The use of their names, which he could not have known without some dealing with their captain, seemed to convince them as he expected it to.
“You still don’t remember me?” he asked, allowing amusement to seep into his voice as he walked confidently toward the road. “I’m sure it will come to you,” he added, devoutly hoping it wouldn’t.
Ahead, yet another man was walking to meet them, leading a horse by the reins. Louis’s hired horse.
“Found him tied up on the moor,” the man told Cobb.
“He’s mine,” Louis admitted. “I left him to discover who was following the captain. But I admit, I’m very glad to see him. You men hit too hard and I need to get to Roseley as quickly as possible.”
He reached for the reins, and the man only cast a quick glance at Cobb before relinquishing them.
“Well, you shouldn’t have fought so well yourself,” Cobb said generously.
Louis managed a laugh as he hauled himself into the saddle. Every inch of his body seemed to protest, his shoulder most vociferously of all. He just hoped the wound hadn’t opened again.
“Well, if you’ll excuse me, gentlemen, I’ll find the fellow you lost, before I ride on to Roseley. I’ll see you there. Can you spare one of the lanterns?”
It was insolence, really, but it would be necessary in his search for Anna. Brandy delivered his lantern up without a quibble.
“I suggest you hurry,” Louis said seriously. “You have wasted too much time here.” He urged the horse to motion and then galloped off in the direction he had last seen Anna and Gosselin.
The difficult terrain forced him to slow before long. He could see no one riding ahead in any direction, though eventually he found the tracks left by Anna’s horse in the slushy ground, and they eventually returned to
the road, where they were indistinguishable. It looked as if Gosselin was taking her back to Blackhaven, but Louis did not believe that.
For one thing, Anna would not have been a comfortable companion. She would not sit submissively silent while he abducted her and tried to hide her in the middle of a town. He would take her somewhere quiet…either to lure Louis to her or simply to kill her.
Louis’s blood froze. By choice, Gosselin would take the former course, if only to keep Louis busy during whatever business he had with the guest at Roseley. But Anna would not give him that choice. She would be too much of a handful. He could have killed her already. He could be in the act of killing her at this moment.
Ignoring the terror threatening to swamp him, he followed the road back to the point they had found Gosselin. If he had been forced to kill her so soon, he would do it where Louis would find her easily. Just for spite.
He left the road, swinging the lantern high over the grassy ground where they had found Gosselin. His heart thudded with fear. He could not endure to lose another friend. He could not bear to lose her. She had crept and clawed her way into his cold heart, far deeper than he had even realized until now when he faced losing her. More than that, he could not bear that she be alone and afraid, helpless once more in an evil man’s power. That she should die in such horror when she begun to waken to the joys of life that had been so cruelly taken from her…
A figure rose up from behind a rock, faint and indistinguishable beyond that it wore male clothes. Except the rock, surely, was where he and Anna had hidden as Alban rode past. His throat constricted. He was afraid to even hope, and yet he rode forward to meet the figure at once. It began to run, and he saw with unspeakable relief that it was her.
He dragged the pistol from his pocket, aiming it at the rock in case Gosselin should show as much as a hand behind her.
He didn’t. And the boyish figure, which truly looked nothing like a boy, flung itself at his leg, sobbing wildly. “I thought you were dead,” she gasped. “I thought they had killed you!”
He bent from the saddle, grasping the back of her head in unutterable relief, pressing her cheek into his thigh. But it was not enough. He bent lower and swept her up by the waist, close into his body, burying his lips in her hair. But she tilted her head back at once, grasping his face between her hands, and he saw the tears streaking her pale, beautiful face and glistening still in her eyes.
“Oh, thank God,” she said shakily and kissed him full on the mouth.
It seemed she could not stop kissing him, pressing her lips to his cheeks, his chin, his neck, until he held her head steady and sank his mouth into hers for the long, desperate kiss they both needed.
When the horse moved restlessly, he released her to pick up the reins once more. Shifting his weight behind the saddle, he settled her more comfortably in front of him.
“How did you escape Gosselin?” he asked, just a little shakily.
“I stabbed him in the hand,” she replied impatiently, and in spite of everything, laughter shook him.
“Of course, you did. I should have known you would get away.”
“I wanted to help you. He wouldn’t go back. How did you get away from all these men?”
“I’d met some of them before,” he confessed. “It was Alban’s ship that brought me to England, to my prison. I thought I probably looked familiar enough to get away with it, so I pretended I was connected to Alban and on my way to see him.” He dropped his cheek onto the top of her head once more, briefly squeezing his eyes shut. “Did he hurt you?”
“Banion? Of course not,” she said scornfully. “No one hurts me now.”
“You are wonderful,” he said, smiling into her hair before straightening, and turning the horse’s head back toward Blackhaven.
“Wait,” she said, frowning. “We should go on to Roseley to find out about that man. Their guest.”
“There is no point. We could talk our way past Alban’s men, even speak to Alban, but they won’t tell us why he their guest is there. To find that out, we need to know who he is meeting.”
“Who is he?” Anna demanded.
And this time he told her. “Charles de Talleyrand-Périgord, Prince of Benevento. Napoleon’s one-time minister of foreign affairs, and always a man to be reckoned with.”
Chapter Fifteen
Anna, drowning in torrents of bliss because he was alive and because he did care for her after all, had to force her brain to think.
“Talleyrand,” she repeated. “Why would Talleyrand come here? Is he betraying France to the British?”
“It is possible,” Louis admitted. “It would explain Alban’s involvement.”
She twisted her neck to look at him. “What will you do if he is?”
“Try to stop him,” Louis said evenly.
“How?”
“That would depend. What would you do in these circumstances?”
Anna’s lips quirked unhappily. “I suppose I should try to prevent you from preventing him. I wish we were not enemies.”
“We are not enemies. Look on us as potential friends…which makes me sound a little like Monsieur de Talleyrand!”
“Is he a likely traitor? Do you trust him?”
“Lord, no I don’t trust him. He is too busy seeing the larger world that he ignores the human cost of what he does.”
The pain in his voice was not obvious, but Anna knew it was there. “Did he betray you?” she asked.
He shook his head. “I don’t think so. He has not been in favor for years. I believe Gosselin convinced Fouché our stream of informants would work without me, that I was tainted and should be removed. Along with those too close to me. Talleyrand would have considered such action foolish.”
“Would he consider changing sides and betraying France to the British foolish?”
Louis shrugged. “Not if it would save France. He has already given certain information to Austria and Russia to hasten the Emperor’s fall. I doubt he would find it harder to provide the British with something similar. It bothers me more that Gosselin is here. And he is not with Talleyrand’s party. And yet, he knew Talleyrand was coming. Who could have told him?”
“Sir Thomas Watters?” Anna guessed. “He has recently been forced to resign for reasons no one seems to know. But these reasons upset Henry.”
“Watters used to send us information in exchange for money,” Louis admitted reluctantly. “But he was unreliable, too careless. I cut him off.”
“Ah.” Anna was disappointed. “Perhaps that was all that has been discovered against him.”
“Perhaps,” Louis said thoughtfully. “Or Gosselin cold have drawn him back in. He certainly knew about Watters.”
“And the Watters’ French governess is at the castle. What if she is passing messages, or connected in some other way with Gosselin, too?”
Louis inclined his head. “Perhaps you should talk to her. While I have another look at the vacant rooms in the hotel.”
They fell silent, each, no doubt, thinking their own thoughts. Anna leaned back against him, more involved in the pleasure of his nearness than in the mystery she had been so determined to solve. Being with Louis brought mystery enough. She didn’t quite understand why she loved his touch and yet still shrank with revulsion from everyone else.
Is Rupert right? Do I love Louis?
She had certainly gone to pieces at the prospect of his death.
He came back for me. The warmth of that knowledge folded around her, protecting her from the bitter cold of the night. She held the lantern, while Louis’s arms enclosed her, handling the reins.
“We are on different sides,” she said, almost dreamily. “And yet I find I don’t care.”
“I tried to push you away,” he confessed. “So that it would hurt less for both of us when we part. I lasted only a day. It seems what is done is done. We cannot go back.”
Anna closed her eyes. Even in the darkness, some things seemed easier to say like this. “I want to go f
orward.”
His lips whispered against her ear. “With me?”
“With you. But I don’t know how.” She opened her eyes, sure once more that he wanted her.
“In a year, perhaps less, we will no longer be enemies,” he said. “But you will still be a marquis’s daughter and I a nameless brat from the slums of Paris.”
She frowned. “Why do you imagine I care for such things? Can you see me as a matron of the ton?”
He smiled. “Yes. You would twist everyone around your finger, whatever their social standing.”
“The ton would bore me in a week. Less. There are too many rules.”
“Perhaps. But if you came with me, would Lord Tamar cut you off? Would your sister? Would Henry Harcourt?”
She thought about it. “No. No one expected me to make a splendid match. No one expected me to marry at all.”
The horse moved on, its pace even and rhythmic.
Louis said, “Would you marry me?”
Her heart beat in rhythm with the hooves, hard and sure.
“You spoke to Rupert,” she said. “That’s why you were cold. Did he not tell you what…happened to me?”
“A little,” he replied steadily.
She closed her eyes once more, swallowing the lump in her throat. “I am not…pure,” she whispered.
And both his arms held her tightly. He kissed her temple, her cheek, and when she lifted her face, gasping, he kissed her mouth, long and thoroughly.
“Never think that,” he said against her lips. “It’s a silly concept thought up by men. The man who assaulted you is the only one to blame. If Tamar had not already killed him, I would. But you—your courage has lifted you up, allowed you to do things few men would dare. You are magnificent.”
She held his arms around her, trying to come to terms with his words, his ideas. “I have never met anyone remotely like you before.”
“Does that mean you will marry me? When we can?”
She could not breathe. The weight of the promise she was about to make pressed down on her but could not break the happiness. She dragged his hand up to her lips and tasted the salt of her own spilled tears. “I will marry you.”
The Wicked Spy Page 17