Lost Lords: No Longer A Gentleman Part 30

That gave him an idea. Instead of an insult, he said lazily, "It will horrify you to know that I'm not only a much better man for my imprisonment, but in the months since I was freed, I've had a lifetime's worth of happiness."

"You'll have no more!" Durand stared down the barrel of his pistol with narrowed eyes. "Shall I shoot you in the knee so it will take you days to die in screaming agony? Or should I put a bullet in your heart and end this nonsense?"

"You're giving me a choice? How gentlemanly of you." Grey gave a brief, ironic bow. "I'll have to think about this. Though I might survive being shot in the knee, if I don't, it's a nasty way to die. But being shot in the heart is so very final."

"I'm not giving you a choice, you b.l.o.o.d.y Englishman!" Durand snarled.

He was steadying his aim when a dark figure walked past Grey. Dear heaven, Pere Laurent! The old priest looked disreputable, but his head was high.

In a rich voice that could fill a church, he said, "Don't kill another innocent man, Claude. You have enough sins on your soul."

Durand's pistol began wavering. "Get away from me, you vile old man! You are not my judge!"

"I was merely your confessor," Pere Laurent said calmly as he stepped between Durand and Grey. "G.o.d is your judge, but a merciful one. Redemption is possible even for the great sinners if there is true contrition. Repent before it is too late."

"I am d.a.m.ned already!" Durand squeezed the trigger. At the same instant, a dagger flew out of the darkness behind Grey and sliced into Durand's hand. Ca.s.sie.

Durand swore and his hand jerked as the pistol fired. The blast echoed between the walls as Pere Laurent crumpled to the ground.

Pere Laurent! Feeling as if the dagger had struck his own heart, Grey hurled himself past the priest and tackled Durand before the devil could reload his pistol. Grey and Pere Laurent might be doomed, but Grey would d.a.m.ned well take Durand with them.

They flailed across the ground in a tangle of fists and thrashing limbs. As the sergeant yelled at his men not to fire because they might kill the wrong man, Durand hissed, "You stupid decadent G.o.ddam! Do you think you can escape alive?"

"Probably not." Grey remembered the time they'd fought before when Grey had been weakened from his imprisonment. Durand was still surprisingly strong for a man his age, and a tough, dirty fighter, but now Grey was stronger and in a killing rage. "But I'm not going alone!"

He locked his hands around Durand's throat, cutting off a stream of obscenity. From the corner of his eye, he saw the soldiers approaching to pull the fighters apart. It was time to end this. "In the name of justice, I execute you, Claude Durand!"

He twisted the older man's neck. There was an audible snap, and the light of life vanished from Durand's eyes.

A moment later rough hands seized him and dragged him to his feet. The sergeant flung up his rifle and aimed at Grey's chest at point-blank range. Grey felt no fear, and only one regret. I should have told Ca.s.sie I love her.

The sergeant was c.o.c.king his rifle when a powerful woman's voice called, "Halt! Do not shoot this man!"

Grey and Durand's soldiers all snapped their gazes toward the voice. A tall, full-figured woman was rushing toward them, a cape billowing around her. A dark angel silhouetted against a burning shed.

She stopped ten feet from Grey, panting for breath. "No more shooting, no more violence! Not if you and your men wish to be paid for your work here. I'll add a bonus for everyone if you obey now."

The sergeant sputtered, "Madame, this pig murdered your husband! A government minister!"

"The man was acting in self-defense." Camille stared at her husband's body. Crossing herself, she added, "Durand shot a priest. He refused G.o.d's mercy, and received G.o.d's punishment."

Grey was released, though he heard muttered cursing. But since these men were mercenaries, the promise of money was enough to buy their cooperation.

"Sergeant Dupuy, gather your men to fight the fire," Camille ordered. "This castle has stood for five centuries. I don't want to see it burn tonight." She swallowed convulsively. "Tell the castle steward to take my husband's body to the chapel and have the estate carpenter make a coffin."

Scowling, Dupuy gathered his men with a glance and headed toward the fires. Grey bowed deeply to his savior. "My most profound thanks, Madame Durand."

"Grey. It's been a long time," she said quietly. "I prefer you call me Camille."

"You look well, Camille." And she did. Fuller of figure, touches of silver in her dark hair, but still a handsome woman. "I'm sorry you had to see your husband killed."

"I'm not." Her face worked as she struggled to maintain her composure. "There was ... much between us, but he was a monster."

Grey caught a motion from the corner of his eyes and turned to see Ca.s.sie helping Pere Laurent to his feet. "Pere Laurent, you're alive!"

"Indeed I am, and barely touched by the bullet." He patted Ca.s.sie's supportive hand. "Madame Renard's knife ruined Durand's shot, but because I am old, a grazed shoulder was enough to knock me down."

"G.o.d be thanked!" Camille caught hold of the priest's hands. "I swear I didn't know what Durand did to you and Lord Wyndham. He never told me, and I never came to the castle because I dislike it."

"This has not been a happy place," Pere Laurent agreed. She surveyed the bleak stone walls with a shudder. "I much prefer Paris. But Durand insisted I come this time because there was something here to amuse me."

Durand had wanted her to see Grey and Pere Laurent die. It sounded like the man was deeply twisted, and he compelled his wife to witness his mad whims.

"I never believed that you condoned his behavior," the priest said soothingly.

Camille released the priest's hands and turned to Grey. "I'm sorry, my golden boy. I never thought a bit of amus.e.m.e.nt would have such terrible repercussions." Her mouth twisted. "Durand was aroused by my indiscretions. But I should have known not to take an Englishman to my bed. That he could not bear."

It was altogether too French for Grey. He took her hand and bent to kiss it lightly. "There is no need for apologies. We both erred. That is the past. What matters is the present. Can Pere Laurent's niece and her family go home safely with no repercussions?"

"Of course. They never should have been imprisoned. You may borrow a carriage to get them home. Pere Laurent, will you stay till morning? Your wound should be seen to, and I am in dire need of confession." Camille's gaze moved to Durand's body again. "Also ... there is a funeral to be arranged."

"Of course, my dear girl." The priest, who had knelt to close Durand's eyes, moved forward to take Camille's arm and they headed toward the castle entrance.

Grey's gaze returned to Durand's body. He didn't feel triumphant. He didn't feel guilty for killing a monster. He felt shaken and tired and glad that the long nightmare was over, and he and his friends had survived.

Ca.s.sie had been standing quietly in the shadows, but now she moved to Grey's side. "You have interesting taste in mistresses, and I thank G.o.d for it."

He put an arm around Ca.s.sie, so tired he could barely stand. "Perhaps Pere Laurent's prayers brought her here in time for a miracle. Now we need a good night's sleep, and a safe journey home to England. It would be far too ironic to survive this and get ourselves killed on the way out of France."

"That won't happen," Ca.s.sie said confidently. "Soon we'll be safe in London and Kirkland will heave a great sigh of relief."

Dragging his mind back to the present, he asked, "The Boyers escaped safely?"

"They wouldn't leave in case you needed help."

He turned and saw Viole and Romain and their children hastening toward him. They were in dire need of baths and fresh clothing, but they wore beaming smiles.

Viole came right up to Grey and kissed him on the cheek. "You have the courage often lions, Monsieur Sommers!"

He gave her a tired smile. "Then your uncle has the courage of a hundred lions."

"I think he prayed us a miracle." She slid an arm around Romain's waist, holding tight. "It's a long walk back to the farm. Where might we find that carriage ride that Madame Durand offered?"

"At the stables." Grey wrapped an arm around Ca.s.sie's shoulders and led the way. "My lady fox and I will ride. May we rest at the farm for a day or two before leaving?"

"You can stay as long as you desire, mon heroes," Romain said fervently.

As they moved into the main courtyard, Grey saw that two sheds were burning, but the flames were under control through the efforts of the soldiers and some of the castle servants.

No signs of their grenadiers. The men must have faded back into the woods to watch from a distance. Though there were numerous grenade craters dotted irregularly inside the walls, he didn't see any bleeding bodies.

Viole was right. There had been a miracle.

Chapter 47.

It was very late when Ca.s.sie and Grey arrived back at the farmhouse. They pushed their narrow beds together and slept in each other's arms despite the awkward gap between the mattresses. Ca.s.sie was so tired she could have slept on a bed of nails.

It was nearing midday when she woke. She drowsed a little, not opening her eyes. She'd had grave doubts about whether she'd see another day, yet here she was. And she'd have another fortnight or so with Grey before they reached England and said their farewells.

"You're smiling like a happy cat," Grey murmured in her ear, his breath warm. "Shall we get up and find something to eat? I'm ravenous."

"Life-threatening adventures do work up an appet.i.te." She debated seducing him-it was never difficult-but she was hungry and also wanted to affirm that everyone really was well.

She swung from the bed, did a quick wash at the basin, and donned her boring Madame Harel gown. She was going to burn the beastly thing when she reached England.

They followed the sound of laughter to the kitchen. Ca.s.sie and Grey entered to find the Boyers and Duvals and incandescent happiness. She and Grey were greeted with welcoming cries and seated at the long table opposite Pere Laurent, who had just returned from his duties at Castle Durand. Ca.s.sie felt quiet satisfaction that Grey didn't flinch at the number of people.

"You're looking well, Father," Ca.s.sie said. The priest was clean and relaxed as he dug into a large herb and cheese omelet. "The graze on your shoulder wasn't deep?"

Pere Laurent smiled mischievously. "People have predicted my imminent demise since I was a sickly toddler, yet I'm still here. The bullet barely touched me. I think it knocked me down more because it caught the fabric of my coat."

Grey shook his friend's hand fervently. "I couldn't believe it when I saw you confront Durand! It was the bravest thing I've ever seen."

Pere Laurent shrugged. "The worst he could do was kill me, which is not a disaster for a man of faith. But I'll be pleased to return to a church and a congregation." He eyed Grey sternly. "I wouldn't have wanted you to risk your life for an old man like me, but for the sake of my Viole and her family, you have my deepest grat.i.tude."

As Grey looked uncomfortable with the thanks, Viole set steaming mugs of real, expensive coffee in front of Ca.s.sie and Grey. "Isn't it fine how much we're in charity with each other?"

"Proof that the French and the English can be friends given half a chance." Ca.s.sie added cream and sugar to her coffee and took a deep swallow. It was delicious, hot and invigorating. Warmth and energy curled through her weary body.

"May the future hold peace, and soon." Grey raised his coffee mug to Ca.s.sie in a toast, his eyes warm. As a woman both French and English, she couldn't agree more. She'd never wanted war between her two homelands.

As Ca.s.sie started in on the omelet Yvette placed in front of her, Pere Laurent said thoughtfully, "Your natural hair color is red like your fox namesake, isn't it?"

She swallowed before replying. "More like a fox and less like the carrot I resembled as a child."

He chuckled. "I wonder if your child will have red hair?"

Her coffee cup froze in midair as she stared at him.

His bushy white brows arched. "You didn't know you were with child? Of course, it's very early yet and you've been busy with other matters."

Ca.s.sie felt her fair complexion turning violent red as everyone gazed at her with deep interest. Beside her, Grey got to his feet, clasped her upper arm in a firm grip, and said pleasantly, "If you'll excuse us, my betrothed and I must talk."

He marched her out of the kitchen and back to their room. After settling her trembling body on one of the beds, he knelt and built up the fire. She was grateful for the warmth since she was in shock.

He stood and regarded her intently, looking very tall and very broad shouldered. "I gather that's news to you?"

She nodded, her stomach roiling. "Jeanne told me that Pere Laurent is famous for being able to tell if a woman is with child. I ... I've been feeling a little off, but thought it was the worry and danger."

"You said you had a reliable method of prevention?"

"Wild carrot seeds. They work fairly well, but no method is perfect." She gave him a twisted smile. "Heaven knows we've been giving the wild carrot seeds quite a lot of challenges."

"I am ..." He shook his head, groping for words. "I am awed. Amazed. Delighted. I never thought I'd live to become a father." He sat on the bed opposite her, his knees only a foot from hers, his gaze intent. "But how do you feel about this sudden change in circ.u.mstances?"

She hesitated, her mind churning. "Delighted because I never thought I'd have a child, either. Dismayed because the timing is ... awkward." She scowled at him. "And really irritated because now you'll feel you have to marry me."

"Wrong."

She blinked. "You aren't going to become all gentlemanly and honorable and insist that we marry because of the baby?"

"No, I'm not." He leaned forward and caught her hands. "The baby will be a joy, but in terms of marriage, it's irrelevant. I already had every intention of persuading you to marry me. We're just having this discussion a little earlier than I expected."

She tried unsuccessfully to tug her hands away, but his grip was gently implacable, and it didn't seem appropriate to start a wrestling match. "Unless my memory is failing, we had a conversation where I explained that needing me was no basis for marriage and that in a year you'd want something different from what you want now," she said, exasperated. "I thought you agreed with me."

He grinned, looking so attractive she almost melted. "I only agreed with part of it. At the time, I thought you'd have to be mad to take on a semicrazed fellow like me. But I've improved. I haven't tried to kill anyone without a good reason for almost a month."

She rolled her eyes. "I've heard more convincing arguments."

"Very well." He leaned forward, his gaze on her, his dark-edged gray eyes vivid. "I've changed a great deal in the last two months, but so have you."

She thought of the hardened, wary spy she'd been when Kirkland had sent her to Castle Durand and nodded agreement. "Your legendary charm works even when you're half mad."

His turn to roll his eyes when she mentioned legendary charm. "There is nothing wrong with needing another person," he said firmly. "My parents need each other every hour of every day because they're devoted. They're happiest when they're together."

"They do seem very fond."

He must have heard a note of doubt in her voice because he said perceptively, "Are you concerned that because I've always liked women I'm incapable of being faithful? There you're wrong. My father was much like me, I'm told. Quite the young gallant, including great admiration for your mother. Then he met my mother. He hasn't looked at another woman since. I am very like him. I sowed my share of wild oats until I met the right woman. You. I love you, and that is not going to change if we wait a year."

She stared at him helplessly, wanting to believe. Unable to.

He lifted her hands and kissed the back of one, then the other. "I love you, Ca.s.sie Catherine Cat," he said softly. "I've never met a woman with your strength and grace and utter trustworthiness. Nor can I imagine a wife who will better understand me, and there's a lot to understand."

She hadn't thought of that. What would a sheltered young lady make of the scarred, complicated man he'd become? Her hands curled around his protectively as she realized she didn't want to leave him to the tender mercies of someone who couldn't fully appreciate his hard-won strength and resilience and courage.

Seeing her expression change, he said soberly, "I'm functioning reasonably well, but I'm not yet anyone's idea of normal. I might never be able to tolerate crowds, my temper may always be chancy. Are you willing to take me on? I was prepared to wait a year if you insisted, but the situation has changed." He gently rubbed her flat abdomen with a large, warm hand. "I'd prefer our child be legitimate."

She caught his hand and pressed it to her, thinking of the baby they'd made together. As soon as Pere Laurent had said the words, she'd known in her marrow that he was right. Didn't she owe her child a father?

And yet ... "I've seen too much, experienced too much," she said haltingly. "I don't want you to regret that someday."