But could she really do it? Commit murder. Take the life of another human being.
Evangeline was many things—bold and often fearless—but a killer she was not.
I can’t go home without having exacted some sort of revenge. They must pay.
There had to be a way to hurt Vincent, to let him know that he had not gotten clean away with destroying her life. And if he was true to form, the gang leader would have ordered his men to head straight back to their camp just outside Sainte-Anne.
“An eye for an eye,” she muttered.
If the Lamballe brutes could come to her home and blow it up, she would go to their hideout and pay them back in kind.
Chapter Fourteen
Sainte-Anne was a hamlet a few miles on the Saint-Brieuc side of the town of Lamballe. There was only a small scattering of houses and no real village to speak of, which made it the perfect place for Vincent and his gang to establish their secret base. No one came in or out of the road which led to the old farmhouse without being seen.
Approaching the camp from the main road was out of the question, but having visited the farm on previous occasions, Evangeline knew another way in.
Leaving Gobain tied to a tree a quarter mile from the site of the camp, she proceeded on foot. The dense shrub land offered excellent cover, allowing her to make it most of the way while remaining hidden from view.
Dropping the saddlebags onto the ground, she crouched low behind a thick hazel bush and considered her options.
There was enough gunpowder in the bags to cause some damage, though not as much as she guessed she would need if she intended to destroy the farmhouse.
I don’t want to be an annoying ant; I have to be a bee whose sting remains long in their memory.
Her gaze fell on the two-storied, ramshackle building. The ground floor was a stone construction, but the top had been built entirely of wood. If she could get a flame established in the upper floor, the whole building would burn.
Evangeline stilled as one of Marec’s men carried a crate toward the farmhouse. From the clinking of bottles, she guessed them to be full of brandy.
Now there’s an idea. Brandy burns.
If she could set some of the brandy alight and throw in some of the gunpowder, it might be enough to set the place ablaze.
Getting a flame to the brandy and being able to make good her escape was now the biggest problem. She had no intention of letting herself get caught. Revenge was on her mind, not a heroic death.
The sun was slowly setting. Soon it would be dark. And if Marec’s men kept to their usual evening habits, they would start heavily drinking the minute they had eaten supper.
The rest of the night would then descend into a progression of loud and tone-deaf singing, followed by a brawl or two, at the end of which most of the gathering would wrap themselves up in their winter coats and fall asleep.
Once the noise had died down, and the men were snoring soundly, she would strike.
Evangeline retreated into the bushes, out of sight. She sat with her back against a large boulder, making herself as comfortable as she could. With her rifle cocked and ready, she settled in to wait.
Before the night was over, she would have her revenge.
Chapter Fifteen
“Bloody woman, where are you?” muttered Gus.
Stubborn was one thing—recklessly seeking revenge an entirely different matter. He dreaded to think what he would do if Evangeline managed to get herself caught by Vincent and his gang. Wringing her neck was the top of his current choices.
It was many hours since he had left Château de La Roche, and he was still no closer to finding Evangeline. He wasn’t even sure if he was headed in the right direction.
After coming out of Saint-Brieuc, the main road split at a junction. The wooden signposts, which should have given him a clue as to where to go, had all long faded. Twice now he had followed one road, only to change his mind and come back to the same crossroad.
Now he was lost in the middle of somewhere, surrounded by marshland, and with no idea as to what he should do next.
Theclip-clopof horse’s hooves on the road had him turning in the saddle. Gus sighed as a man clad in a long brown coat and matching leather hat came toward him riding a small mare.
