She startled at the loud bang which echoed up the stairs. Someone had just kicked open the front door. There was yelling and cries of pain and outrage from the servants as they were bustled outside.
“Evangeline La Roche, come to me, or I will drag you headfirst down the stairs!” bellowed Vincent.
With her heart thumping hard, she made her way downstairs. Her hopes of remaining at her home dying instantly at the sight which greeted her.
Vincent stood in the middle of the room; legs spread wide, full of obvious self-importance. In his hand he held a flaming torch.
Behind Vincent was Claude, the scar-faced man whose hat Evangeline had put a bullet through a few weeks earlier.
Have they come to burn the place down?I thought they wanted the château.
Vincent turned from glowering at Armand. “Ah, there you are dear, sweet Evangeline.”
Evangeline came and stood alongside Armand. She dropped her gaze to her feet, not wishing to tempt fate. Vincent Marec was a man with an unpredictable and explosive temper. If there was any chance of her and Armand getting out of the château alive, she was going to have to play it smart and adopt the role of defeated, docile female. “Vincent,” she said.
The crunch of his heavy boots echoed on the stone floor. She kept her gaze downward. Hard, cruel fingers seized her chin, and her head was thrust violently upward.
She met a pair of cold, gray eyes. They had always reminded her of the sea when a dark and wicked storm was about to hit.
He nodded at the satchel on her back. “At least you have packed, unlike Armand,” he sniffed.
“I don’t want to leave my home,” she said, addressing her uncle.
Armand nodded. “I know, but the battle is lost. We must do what we can.” He bowed to Vincent. “Would you please give me a few minutes to put some things in a bag? And then let me say a quick, final goodbye to my home.”
Vincent looked from Armand to Evangeline. “Alright, but she stays here with me. Or better still, Evangeline, you could go out to the stables. When we arrived, I noticed Gobain was saddled and ready to leave. How convenient. Claude can accompany you. I am sure he has a few choice words he would like to share about what he thinks of you having shot him.”
The villain in question grinned at her, licking his lips as his gaze settled on her breasts.
Fiend. Just try it and see how well life goes for you without your manhood.
Evangeline glanced at her rifle. “I didn’t shoot you, monsieur. As I recall it was your hat which received the bullet. Perhaps I should be apologizing to it.”
Vincent snapped his fingers. “Enough. Take her outside. And Claude, if you are foolish enough to try anything else, Evangeline has my full permission to shoot you properly this time. No one touches what belongs to me.”
I will never be yours. I would rather die.
As she was dragged toward the front door, Evangeline caught a final glimpse of Armand as he headed toward the stairs. Vincent, meanwhile, prowled about the ground floor, brandishing the flaming torch.
There was an awful lot of gunpowder stored in the château. The prospect of a naked flame only a matter of feet away from what was tantamount to a powder keg had Evangeline praying that Armand wouldn’t spend too long saying his farewells to their home.
The sooner they were far away from Château-de-La-Roche the better.
Thank God he sent Gus up the coast. If Armand doesn’t do anything rash, we might yet escape with our lives.
Chapter Eleven
Claude—Evangeline had never bothered to inquire as to his surname—was a short man, gruff in nature. He huffed and panted all the way from the front door of the château to the stables. He appeared to be struggling with his breathing.
Once inside the stables, he loosened his hold on Evangeline then roughly shoved her away. He pointed at her rifle. “Don’t even think about it. Besides, I wouldn’t be tempted by Vincent’s whore.”
She winced at the callous remark. A woman made one mistake in her life and she was forever branded as being fallen.
And yet, you have probably lain with dozens of women, but you don’t see me judging you for it.
He stopped for a moment and doubled over. His hands rested on his knees as he wheezed and coughed. The strain showed on his quickly reddening face. Evangeline found herself unintentionally trying to breathe for him.
Finally, he righted himself and swallowed deeply. “Exploding cannon, at the Battle of Corunna in ’09. I was fighting the English while your family were finding ways to work with them.” The tone of disapproval and disgust in his voice was unmistakable.
