“Well, it’s a way to warm up,” she said thoughtfully. “For a couple of minutes.”

Joy and desire began bubbling through him despite their precarious circumstances. “Another challenge, my lady fox?” He cupped the delicious softness of her breast. “I promise I shall warm you until the sun comes up.”

And he did.


Chapter 20

Reports flooded into Durand as a result of the flyers. There were no sightings for the priest. Either Laurent Saville had gone to ground very successfully, or he was so frail that he’d died from the rigors of escape. If so, good riddance, though Durand continued searching. The old man could be useful.

But there were many possible sightings of Wyndham and an old woman. Sorting through them was the sort of work at which Durand excelled. He had an instinct for what rang true, and that instinct was triggered by the story of a minor altercation in a market town. An old woman and a man who behaved badly because of a worthless mongrel. That sounded English.

He wondered if the old woman really was female. Given the examples he’d been given of her strength and cunning, he wouldn’t be surprised to learn that Wyndham’s rescuer was a short man disguised as a woman. Though maybe the strength and cunning came from the men who traveled with her. There were too many possibilities. The only thing Durand had to go on was the likelihood that Wyndham was traveling north.

The pair from the market incident were heading in the right direction, but there were no convincing sightings farther along the road they’d been traveling. Durand studied alternative routes on a map. A minor road to the east looked plausible, and it ran toward Boulogne, right on the English Channel.

There were plenty of fishermen who doubled as smugglers along the coast. Which group was most likely? The Ministry of Police had files on many of them.

Map case in hand, Durand ordered up a carriage and headed north.

The next four days were plagued by the constant itchy fear of pursuit. They were also the hardest riding Grey had ever done. If he hadn’t been hardened by several days of slower travel first, Cassie would have had to tie him to his mount.

Achille and Thistle were gone, traded for fresher, stronger horses. He thought he saw regret in Cassie’s eyes when she sold the pony, but she was too pragmatic to complain. She was a tireless taskmistress, pushing them both with steely determination.

Some nights they were even too tired to make love. But he was never too tired to want to hold her as they fell asleep. Having her close staved off the nightmares.

Grey had enough male pride not to complain about the pace she set, though by the time they reached the seaside tavern northeast of Boulogne, he felt as if he’d been pummeled by professional boxers. It was late afternoon when the tavern came into view.

“Our destination,” Cassie said. “They know me here. We’re almost home.”

He looked across the channel, barely breathing. “England is just across the water. It’s hard to believe.” Someday he’d look on this journey as a brief, improbable interlude on the way back to his real life, but for now, it was his world. The road, the travel, and Cassie. He wouldn’t miss the endless fear or hours on horseback, and a return to civilized living with regular hot water and clean clothes would be welcome.

But he couldn’t imagine life without Cassie.

When they reached the tavern, Cassie dismounted. “Take the horses to the stables,” she said. “I’ll talk to my friend Marie. She’s another of France’s countless war widows. With luck, we’ll be able to sail tonight. The weather looks right.”

“You’ll miss giving me orders,” Grey said as he accepted the reins of her mount.

“Very true. I adore telling big, strong men what to do,” she agreed. “I’ll just have to come back to France and rescue some other poor fellow to order about.”

Her words were teasing, but they sliced into him like knives as he headed to the stables. This journey with Cassie had been the happiest time of his life. It was jarring to be reminded that to her, he was just another job.

“I’ve lain with men for worse reasons.” Did she lie with all the men she rescued? He hated the thought, yet he had no right to ask about her past or other men she’d known.

He bit his lip as he dismounted. Régine sensed his agitation and pressed against his leg. At least one female on this journey thought the sun rose and set on him.

As he bedded down the horses, he told himself that he should be adult enough to accept that Cassie was special to him even though he’d never be as special to her. But he wasn’t sure he was that mature.

Cassie entered the tavern’s taproom. The cozy room had tables and a simply built bar at the far end. A young boy sat at a table studying while a middle-aged woman with a comfortably rounded figure and a lapful of knitting sat behind the bar.

“Bonsoir, Marie,” Cassie greeted her. “I’m glad to see you looking so peaceful.”

“Cassandra! You’re a welcome sight.” Marie set aside her knitting. “Do you remember my nephew Antoine?”

“Indeed I do. Don’t let me interfere with your lessons, Antoine.”

He stood and offered a gap-toothed smile, then returned to his textbook. Marie continued, “Are you just passing through?”

“Yes, and the shorter the visit the better.” Cassie pulled out a small jingling pouch from the pocket hidden under her skirt.

“You’re in luck. There’s a fishing trip scheduled for tonight.”

That was good news; the sooner they left France, the better. “Is there space for two passengers?” When Marie nodded, Cassie handed over the pouch. “Here’s the fare.”

Marie made the money disappear. “Always such a pleasure doing business with you, Cassie. Where is your companion?”

“Bedding down our horses. Two decent hacks, nothing special. I’m not sure when I’ll be back this way, so use them as you need.”

Marie glanced out a window. The day had been overcast, and night was falling quickly. “There’s just enough time for you and your companion to have a bite before you go down to the cove. I’ll send Antoine to the boat to tell them passengers are coming.”

As Antoine closed his book, several horsemen arrived outside. Cassie said in a low voice, “It’s possible my companion and I are being pursued.”

“Or it may be customs officers arriving as they do all too often.” Frowning, Marie said, “Antoine, go to the cove and tell the men there may be trouble here.”

“Oui, tante.” Moving quickly, he went back through the kitchen and outside.

“Time for us to become two boring women having a bit of a chat.” Marie poured white wine into two heavy glass tumblers and slid one across the bar to Cassie. “Will your companion know to keep out of sight?”

A good question. Grey was hard to predict. “I hope so.” Cassie took the wine and settled onto a stool across the bar from Marie.

The front door was thrown open and five gendarmes swaggered in. All were armed and they had the truculent expressions of men looking for trouble.

As an experienced tavern owner, Marie recognized the look as readily as Cassie did. Her eyes were wary, but her voice relaxed as she said, “What can I do for you, Citoyens? I’ve some good fish stew and fresh bread in the kitchen.”

“We’ll be having some of that and a bottle of the best cognac in the house,” the sergeant in charge said. “But what we really want is escaping spies.”

He pulled a folded flyer from his coat. “An old man, an old woman, a younger English man with light hair, maybe traveling with others. Anyone like that been by here? They’re running like rats for England.”

Marie set five tumblers along the bar. “Can’t say they sound familiar. The only old women who come by here are local.” She reached under the bar for a bottle of cognac. “I’ve not seen any English spies that I know of.”

“Bet you’ve seen plenty of smugglers, though,” one of the men sneered. He grabbed the bottle of cognac from Marie’s hand and took a swig. “How much will you give us to ride on to the next coastal tavern without searching this place?”

“Isn’t it against the law to try to bribe a gendarme?” Marie asked coolly. “I’ve naught to fear from a search. There are no smugglers here. Only food and drink.”

“And women.” A tall, heavyset man who looked like a bear pointed toward Cassie. “The flyer said the old woman had no distinctive identifying marks. Neither does this one.” As he gazed at her with hot eyes, the atmosphere thickened with menace.

“That’s not a kind thing to say, Citoyen,” Cassie said mildly, shifting on her stool so she could reach the knife sheathed on her thigh. But she hoped it didn’t come to a fight. Two women had little chance against five brutal armed men. “I may be heading toward old, but I’m not there yet.”

“Old enough that you should be grateful a real man is willing to roger you,” the bear man said with a snort. “Not that I’d touch either of you ordinarily, but for lack of anything better, you’ll do.”

As he moved closer, Cassie reached for her knife. Before she could grasp it, he lunged unexpectedly, crushing her in his beefy arms exactly like a bear. His breath reeked of cheap brandy.

“Let me go!” she snapped as she struggled furiously, but he had the advantages of size and strength. He shoved her down to the floor and straddled her.

The leader of the group leaned over the bar for Marie. She bashed him across the face with a bottle. Swearing, he staggered back, but a third man circled the bar to grab her and pull her into the center of the room. Her scream cut off abruptly.

If Cassie weren’t pinned down, she could have immobilized her attacker, but with his weight on top of her, she was almost helpless. She hoped to God Grey didn’t hear the disturbance and charge in. Though he was a fighter, the gendarmes were armed and far more likely to shoot a man than a woman.

Praying that Antoine would bring the sailors from the cove quickly, she sank her teeth into her attacker’s earlobe, tasting metallic blood. He bellowed with rage and reared up to clout her on the side of the head.

She turned her head to avoid the worst of the blow, at the same time fighting to free one arm. If she could jab his eyes …

A blood-chilling shout reverberated through the taproom as Grey charged through the door, eyes wild with berserker fury. In two steps he was beside Cassie and hauling her attacker off her. There was a hideous crack as he broke the bear man’s neck.

Behind him, another gendarme swiftly primed and aimed his pistol. “Look out, Grey!” Cassie cried as she scrambled to her feet.

Grey whirled and dived at the man. The gun fired deafeningly but Grey didn’t even flinch. He wrenched the empty pistol away from the gendarme and used the wooden hilt to club him into unconsciousness.

Since he could handle himself, Cassie turned to Marie. Her friend was pinned to the floor by a man who had one hand clamped over her mouth while the other clawed at her clothing. Cassie moved behind him and savagely jabbed her thumbs into the pressure points that would knock him unconscious in the space of a few heartbeats.

He collapsed forward with a strangled gasp. After dragging his limp body off Marie, who was shaken but seemed unhurt, Cassie turned to Grey.

He fought like a dancer, his movements swift and grimly efficient as he smashed and kicked at his opponents. But dear God, blood was pouring down the left side of his head! He must have been grazed by the pistol ball. Surely it wasn’t serious or he couldn’t fight so furiously? But so much blood!

Her heart constricted as she saw the last two gendarmes retreat and aim their pistols at Grey. She swore the filthiest curse she knew and hurled her knife at the closer man. It caught him dead center in the throat with a gush of blood.

As the man collapsed with a bubbling scream, his companion swung his pistol toward Cassie. “You bitch!”

She dived to her left, wishing for a barrier to protect her. Then Grey’s broad shoulders blocked her view of the last gendarme. Growling like a wolf, he leaped at the same instant the gendarme’s pistol boomed.

Undeterred, Grey clamped his powerful hands around the man’s neck. The two of them went down together.

Dear God, more blood, this time streaming from Grey’s right side! Yet his viselike grip didn’t loosen. By the time Cassie reached them, the gendarme was dead. Grey’s expression was savage, and he didn’t seem to hear when she spoke his name.

Cassie caught his shoulder, her nails biting into his shoulder. “Grey, it’s all right, we’re safe. Let him go so I can look at your wounds.”

He still didn’t react, so she said more sharply, “Grey, let go!”