He stepped closer, coming to stand right in front of her. The room wasn’t small, but he took up a great deal of space. If his intent was to intimidate her, he was succeeding.
“Why do we need to keep our presence here a secret? Please, Evangeline, whatever it is, you have to tell me.”
Her gaze dropped to the floor. The green, knotted wool rug on which they both stood, a sudden source of fascination. “Do you truly believe Armand blew up the château?” she asked.
Gus inched closer. When she breathed in, she caught the hint of his cologne. She had had it made especially for him at a local perfumer in Saint-Brieuc as a Christmas gift the previous year. The woody, aquatic fragrance suited him. Bergamot, citrus, and cedar blended with notes of seaweed and cypress. She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath.
If they were really husband and wife, this moment could be very different. She would be eager for him to hold her after a long day on the road. And her concerns wouldn’t be about foolish acts of revenge. Rather, they would be about the two of them sharing a moment of marital intimacy. Of letting her cares and worries melt away while her husband stripped her naked then lay her on the bed. And when he came to her, all she would be thinking of was that sweet sexual climax they would both soon achieve.
If only that was her reality.
“Evangeline, look at me.”
With great reluctance, she tore herself away from her private imaginings of him and met his gaze.
“Did you know that Armand was moving gunpowder in secret from Binic? The bottles he sent me to collect didn’t contain brandy. They were full of explosives. Armand was building a stockpile of ready-made bombs. He must have stored them somewhere in the west wing of the château.”
Evangeline nodded. She had seen the crates, and Armand had told her the truth. It still hurt to think he could do such a thing. Destroy their home. She would forever wonder if he had meant to die in the explosion. To sacrifice himself in order to keep his honor.
Gus tapped his fingers on the front of her coat. “When did you discover about the gunpowder?”
This was too much. Evangeline quickly stepped away, crossing to the window which overlooked the central courtyard and rear stables. A young boy was leading Gobain into one of the stalls, a bucket of oats in his hand. The horse would get a good rub down and a proper night’s sleep.
If things didn’t go well with Gus, she might not be so lucky.
Warm, strong hands settled on her shoulders, and Gus spun her to face him. There was a kindness in his eyes, a gentle pleading for her to trust him.
“I knew he meant to go to war against the Lamballe gang. I told you as much in my letter. But he was acting very odd yesterday. He couldn’t wait to get you back on board your boat and away.
He knew Marec was coming, but he was shocked to discover the rest of the men had also arrived. That was not in his plans. When I found him in the dining room, Armand told me what was in the crates. Then he said I had to pack and leave. Right to the end he was trying to save me. The last time I saw Armand, he was with Vincent. Vincent was the one who had the lit torch, not my uncle.”
The open door of the dining room had only been a matter of a few feet away from where the others had been standing. It didn’t take much imagination to guess what might have happened. Armand had seen the opportunity to get even with Vincent and had somehow managed to get a hold of the flaming torch.
Evangeline screwed her eyes closed. There was no doubt left in her mind. Armand had destroyed their home rather than hand it over to Vincent. In doing so, he had unwittingly set off a chain of events that was now unstoppable.
“I am so sorry, Evangeline. I cannot begin to imagine how painful this is for you.”
She sucked in a deep breath and met his gaze. The moment of truth had finally arrived. “That’s not all of it. I lied to you this morning; I did follow Vincent and his men back to their camp at Sainte-Anne. I waited until dark, then I broke in and ruined all his brandy. And I blew up his farmhouse.”
Gus’s eyes grew wide. He stared at her for a moment, shock written all over his face. “All the saints in heaven, tell me you didn’t. Oh, Evangeline,” he whispered.
The damage was done. She may as well tell him the last of it. “I rode away as fast as I could. That was why Gobain threw a shoe. He was covered in sweat because I pushed him harder than I have ever done before. All in order to escape.”
She put a hand over her eyes, unable to continuing looking at him. The expression of shock on his face was more than she could bear. Shame and hopelessness threatened to overwhelm her. To tear her down completely.
“I am on the run from Vincent and his men. Why? Because I lived up to my foolish and reckless reputation. Not only did I spoil his cargo and burn down his farmhouse, but just to make sure everyone knew how stupid I am, I left my personally engraved rifle behind.”
They were on the run for their lives, and it was all her fault.
Chapter Twenty-One
Gus Jones had never been so lost for words. He stood dumbstruck as Evangeline covered her face with both hands and wept. It was several minutes before he finally reached out and pulled her into his embrace.
Holding her, doing his best to offer comfort, he was filled with an almost overwhelming sense of helplessness. In all his years of dangerous endeavors he had never felt so impotent.
In leaving her weapon behind in the woods, Evangeline had all but signed her death warrant. If Vincent Marec and his men found her, they wouldn’t show any mercy. They would make her suffer right to the end.
What to do? What the devil are we going to do?
