Masque: A Hellfire Club Erotique

by Reed, Kristabel

  Olivia wholeheartedly agreed with that. The wind blew hard this morning, despite the sun now warming the land. She huddled into her cloak and pressed closer to Sebastian’s side. He didn’t look at her but wrapped his arm around her shoulder, pulling her close to him. Julien looked up at the movement and offered a brief smile, wicked and teasing.

  They seemed to be satisfied they warned the Club, because Sebastian was now asking Bernard for another pistol, and more shot and powder. While Sebastian followed the other man to where the majority of the carts waited, Julien rounded their cart and pulled her into his arms and kissed the top of her head.

  “I doubt Rousseau knows about the troop movements,” he said as they awaited Sebastian’s return. “We’ll double back; this is the only road Rousseau could have taken.”

  “We’ll find him,” Sebastian swore.

  His return surprised Olivia, she hadn’t heard him move on the icy road. Sebastian looked at Julien, one hand on the other man’s arm. It was a caring gesture, a silent conversation that Olivia recognized went beyond sex.

  For the first time since meeting them just over a week ago, Olivia realized the depth of feeling between the two men. It wasn’t about the sex, though she knew they enjoyed each other’s bodies as they did hers. What they shared went beyond lust, beyond passion. It was a softening she wouldn’t have associated with either man separately, and one neither would ever verbally admit to.

  They loved each other. Olivia smiled at the thought and rested her head on Julien’s chest. She wondered if they’d ever admitted that love and knew they probably hadn’t. Julien’s arm tightened around her shoulders, holding her closer.

  And they loved her. The last thing she ever expected to find in the Hellfire Club was love, let alone with two such distinctive men, but Olivia knew they loved her. More than keeping her warm at night, more than teaching her every carnal delight known to man, the small things made her realize that they did.

  The protection they offered her, more than she was sure Louise had asked of Sebastian. And even though Olivia knew they wanted their own revenge against Rousseau, she also knew they followed through with it here, now, because of her. A million little things from comfort and warmth, to keeping her spirits high as they trekked slowly across the frozen countryside. A gesture here or there, the brush of fingertips along her cheek, a smile, a wink.

  They’d never said it, and Olivia wondered if they ever would, but they loved her as she loved them. Perhaps she needed to say it first, show them she understood.

  “Let’s go,” Sebastian said gruffly, breaking the moment.

  Olivia nodded, her smile disappearing. She was glad neither had suggested her staying behind or moving on with the rest of the Club. How had they known? How, in such a short time, did they know she wouldn’t leave them? That she needed to see this through. How had they come to know her so well?

  “I want that bastard dead,” Sebastian said and gently helped her into the cart.

  Chapter Twelve

  Sebastian had pushed the horses fast for hours. The cart jolted over the rough frozen terrain; Olivia refused to consider this rutted corridor a road. He looked back once, to presumably check on her, but didn’t slow the pace.

  On the one hand, Olivia was glad he pursued Rousseau with such determination. On the other hand it seemed they hit every pothole this miserable road had to offer, bouncing her roughly against the piles of linens lining the cart. Julien braced her, or tried to, but he checked and rechecked his pistols and scouted the area for Rousseau.

  The very name burned within her, and Olivia forgot about the discomfort of her derrière slamming against the linens. She wanted that murderer at the point of his own poniard. Struggling to balance herself in the lurching cart, she felt in her cloak for the dagger.

  Her men had to know she still had it. They traveled in too intimate circumstances for them not to know she did. Olivia didn’t care that they knew, only that they hadn’t tried to stop her. Hadn’t taken this away from her.

  The hilt fit comfortably in her grasp, and even as Sebastian cursed and pulled the horses to an abrupt halt, Olivia held onto it.

  She heard it now, the sound of fighting in the distance. Shots echoed, so many she wondered if they hadn’t careened headlong into a battle. Surging to her knees, Olivia gripped the back of Sebastian’s seat and looked ahead. Julien jumped out of the cart, but his hand settled on her back, warm and reassuring.

  “These must be the troops Bernard warned us about,” Sebastian said quietly.

  He climbed down from the cart’s seat and urged the horses off the poor excuse for a road. They appeared too tired to be frightened of the battle ahead of them, their sides heaved from exertion. Olivia waited until Sebastian stopped them, several yards from the road before climbing out herself. Julien was there to help her, but his gaze roamed the distance.

  “Rousseau could have passed them before the fighting started,” Julien stated.

  She looked sharply up at him, her stomach tying itself in knots. Had she missed him? Had she missed this chance? If Rousseau had, indeed, made it beyond the fighting, how could she find him again? He wouldn’t go to England, why would he? He had betrayed the Club and seemed to have friends enough in the National Police for him to stay in France.

  “Let’s move around them,” Sebastian said, still holding the horse’s bridles. He glanced at her then over his shoulder to where the sounds of fighting seemed to grow louder. “We’ll lose time, but I don’t want to be caught by either side.”

  Julien helped her over the rocky terrain as Sebastian backtracked slightly to maneuver the horses and cart deeper into the trees. Shouts from the battle moved closer, and Olivia realized the very real danger they now faced. Sporadic shots still sounded, but she now heard the clash of swords, the vicious shouting of men.

  Looking back at her men, Olivia knew she should say something. Stop them from going further. They did this for her. Oh, they wanted Rousseau, no doubt about that. However, the pair of them could find him on horseback much faster if she wasn’t there.

  A barrage of shots sounded again, and Olivia looked through the trees but couldn’t see the actual battle. Spent powder made the air acrid, blood and death adding their own distinctly foul scent.

  “We shouldn’t be here,” she whispered urgently as if the warring armies could hear her. “We shouldn’t be this close to the fighting. Let’s go further east to completely circumvent it.”

  She didn’t say leave Rousseau for another time, but she could see that knowledge in Julien eyes. His next words confirmed it.

  “We’ll lose Rousseau if we do that,” Julien said softly.

  They still moved through the wood, going slowly to keep pace with Sebastian and the horses. Sebastian didn’t say anything, but when Olivia looked at him, she saw him watching her.

  “I don’t care,” Olivia said fiercely. “It doesn’t matter, not any more. I don’t want either of you hurt because of this.” Her voice broke at the thought of one of them being hurt or possibly killed. Her breath caught and tears threatened to fall, but she refused to allow them. This wasn’t the time for tears.

  “I don’t care about Rousseau if you’re hurt.” The words were as honest as she’d ever spoken. “Please, please let’s just go.”

  Sebastian’s face remained unreadable, but she was too far from him to truly gauge his reaction. Julien, however, watched her for a silent moment. Eventually he nodded, understanding in his dark eyes. He led her for several paces until they reached Sebastian who had stopped the cart on a relatively flat portion of land and was absently calming the horses. Apparently, their tiredness didn’t stop them from being skittish now that the sounds of fighting rolled ever closer.

  “You and Sebastian should go on,” Julien said. “I’ll follow Rousseau. I’ll meet you at the boat in Nantes.” He kissed her hard and fast. “Wait for me.”

  Emotion closed her throat and she wanted to protest, but Julien had already moved away. Shaking herse
lf, Olivia grabbed Julien and forced him around.

  “Absolutely not!” she snapped. Fear made her voice sharper and louder than she intended. The thought of anything happening to Julien had her blood running cold. She couldn’t lose him, either of them. Not now that she’d found them.

  “We’re not separating,” she insisted. “Not now. I don’t want you to go.”

  Julien’s hand caressed her cheek and he gave her a soft smile. “Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine.”

  Jerking from his embrace, Olivia hurried to where Sebastian stood. He’d remained silent through this exchange, and Olivia wondered what he was thinking. Turning sharply, in case Julien had it in mind to sneak away while her back was turned, she glared at him.

  “Tell him we can’t separate,” she repeated, looking between Sebastian and Julien. “We have to stay together, always together.”

  Her voice broke and she blinked tears from her eyes. Sebastian’s arms wrapped around her but she struggled against him to look back at Julien. He hadn’t moved, hadn’t tried to sneak off while she admonished him.

  “We can’t separate,” she insisted, voice uneven though she’d managed to regain control over herself. “We can’t. Because I love you both.”

  Julien softened, she could see it his eyes. When she looked up at Sebastian, she saw an answer there as well. Suddenly he stiffened, gaze back on the tree line. Olivia turned to look but didn’t see—

  Shouts, she heard the shouts, but they didn’t come from the battle but closer. Someone moved in the shadow of the trees and quickly. Sebastian grabbed the horses and urged them back into the trees, all but dragging Olivia with him. Rousseau and the National Police man raced passed them, glancing over their shoulders as if they feared pursuit.

  Sebastian pulled his pistol, and without looking, Olivia knew Julien did as well. The pair on horseback didn’t notice them, and Olivia breathed an aborted sigh of relief. Sebastian turned her to face him, catching her chin in his hand. His blue eyes were hard chips of sapphire.

  “Stay here,” he ordered. “Stay behind the tree.”

  She didn’t have time to protest, to argue, before he and Julien raced off. Olivia took a step after them, but the sounds of the battle seemed to come closer and she didn’t want to be seen by whatever warring factions fought behind her.

  Taking the horses by the reins, Olivia guided them up the hill her lovers had taken, careful to keep well hidden in the trees. Two pistols fired. Dropping the reins, she yanked up her skirts and stumbled the few remaining steps up the rocky incline, heart pounding in her ears.

  Please, she prayed. Please let them be unharmed.

  Still well hidden by the trees, Olivia could see them. They both stood straight and unharmed. Her breath came out in a painful rush and she collapsed to her knees. The horses whinnied softly behind her, but she ignored them.

  One of the men on horseback had fallen and now lay unmoving on the pitted terrain. From this distance she couldn’t be certain, but Olivia knew it wasn’t Rousseau whom they had shot, but the National Police man.

  Just then Julien turned and headed back, climbing up the small hill as quickly as he could. Olivia stood legs shaky with relief. He scanned the tree line and almost instantly spotted her. Relief lightened his face, and he took a moment to hold her. It lasted only a heartbeat before he led her back to the cart.

  Wordlessly, Julien reloaded his pistol. He seemed to concentrate on the task, priming the weapon and double checking his work. When he finished, he looked down at her. His brown gaze held hers, worry and determination in their dark depths.

  “Rousseau will not leave these woods alive,” he promised. He gave her a hard kiss and disappeared back over the hill.

  Olivia watched him, already shedding her cloak. She needed the maneuverability. Taking the poniard from where she’d hidden it in her cloak, Olivia pulled it from its leather sheath and looked down at it. In her mind’s eye she once again saw the image of Louise’s body, bloody and lying at an awkward angle. Blinking it away, Olivia looked to where the fighting still raged the sounds slightly fainter now.

  Turning from it, though she did wonder who was winning, Olivia dashed in the direction Julien had gone. Careful to keep to the trees, she refused to let Sebastian and Julien take on Rousseau. She had to do this, for herself and for Louise.

  By the time she crested the hill, she saw Rousseau wheeling his horse back around. Sebastian rode his horse, presumably the now dead National Police man’s mount, and corralled Rousseau back towards them. Julien halted at the bottom of the hill and took careful aim. Olivia held her breath, gripping the dagger until the hilt dug into her hand.

  He waited, waited, and Olivia looked between him and Sebastian then Sebastian and Rousseau. The blood rushed in her ears, and she couldn’t tell if Rousseau shouted something to Sebastian, but it didn’t matter.

  Julien fired and Olivia jumped. It hit his intended target, and Rousseau fell sideways, off the horse. She didn’t wait to see what Sebastian or Julien did, but raced across to where that murdering bastard lay.

  Sebastian stood there, looking down at Rousseau but made no move to do more. Julien appeared beside her, spent pistol at his side, and held Rousseau’s horse by the reins.

  Watching Rousseau, Olivia slowly walked the last few steps. He clutched his side, blood seeping through his fingers and staining the frozen ground. She watched it for a moment, watched him. He breathed heavily, but said nothing as he locked gazes with her.

  Olivia kneeled beside him, Rousseau’s poniard still in her hand. Still holding his gaze, she held it out to him. Bits of stone bit into her knees, but she ignored them. The wind whipped over the countryside, loosening her hair from its bun and blowing straight through her. Nothing mattered save the man before her.

  Rousseau struggled to one elbow and watched her.

  “Do you recognize this?” she asked softly. “You took away the last of my family with this,” she continued in that same low, even voice.

  He spat at her, pushing her weakly backwards. “And I’d do it again, you little whore!”

  Beside her, Olivia heard Sebastian and Julien move, but she sharply shook her head. She smacked him, and Rousseau collapsed onto the ground. Brining the poniard to his throat, she pressed the sharp point against his flesh, watching a bead of blood well at its tip.

  “I should end your miserable life,” she snarled.

  Sebastian knelt beside her. She heard the rustle of papers being passed and knew they were the ones Bernard had given to Sebastian in Paris.

  “But we,” she said with a tilt of her head, “thought it would be that much sweeter if the Royalists caught you with treasonous papers. I’m sure your head would find its way to Madame Guillotine one way or another.”

  Julien took the poniard from her, gentle fingers opening the fist she’d made around the hilt. In a flash, he stabbed the dagger through the papers and into Rousseau’s arm. The other man howled in pain, jerking up as he screamed.

  “You’ll suffer far longer,” Sebastian said in a low, hard voice, “than Louise ever did.”

  He helped her stand then, but when Olivia looked at him hatred such as she’d never witnessed shadowed Sebastian’s face. She stopped, and he seemed to shake himself for when he looked down at her, affection for her had replaced his hatred for Rousseau.

  Olivia allowed him to lead her away from Rousseau, and leaned her head on his arm. Now that it was over, she felt weak, tired. Sebastian’s arms came round her and for the first time since following Rousseau yesterday morning, Olivia breathed easy.

  She didn’t know what made Sebastian stop, what made him and Julien turn around, but before they’d fully turned, Sebastian pushed her behind him. Julien lunged at Rousseau and it was then Olivia saw the pistol. Before Rousseau could fire, Julien knocked it from him.

  In one fluid instant, Julien had knocked the pistol from Rousseau’s hand, grabbed it, and fired it at the man. The sound echoed around her, but was lost, swallowed up
in the still raging battle nearby.

  Olivia stared at him, unable to feel any emotion for him. She felt the loss of her beloved aunt, the loss of her country, of all she’d ever known. But there was also peace with that loss.

  She’d found Sebastian and Julien.

  “We shouldn’t linger,” Sebastian said, turning his back on Rousseau’s body. To Julien he said, “Leave the cart. We’re close enough to the Royalist lines to be safe; we don’t need the linen merchant cover.”

  Whether the Royalists or Revolutionaries won this day no longer mattered to her. Rousseau lay dead behind her. Before her, a promising future with her lovers spread out. Olivia offered Sebastian a small smile and gave him a lingering kiss, pouring all the love and passion she felt for him into it. When Julien returned with the horses from the cart, Olivia kissed him as well.

  Chapter Thirteen

  London.

  The city felt so very different from Paris. Olivia tried to pinpoint the difference, but couldn’t quite. However, it lurked beneath the surface, a simmering light on such a cold winter’s day. She blinked tiredness away and wrapped the cloak tighter around her. The difference lay not in the obvious, not in their dress or architecture, and it had naught to do with language or speech.

  Still it flickered everywhere she looked.

  Once they’d moved beyond the wharf, she noticed that everyone they passed turned their noses down at the picture she and her lovers painted. It had been a grueling trip once they reunited with the rest of the Hellfire Club, snow blanked the French countryside and the boat from Nantes had had to cross excessively rough waters.

  Now, as they made their way down the London streets, not having the coin to pay for a hackney, she knew those they passed on the streets sniffed at the scraggily dressed French invading their city. Olivia knew that snobbery would disappear once they settled into their new accommodations and attired themselves properly. Money always solved slight annoyances.