Failure was not an option. Gus was determined that Vincent Marec was not going to get his hands on Evangeline La Roche.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Evangeline wanted a long, hot bath. To soak and indulge herself in peaceful bliss. But in keeping with Gus’s instructions for them to maintain a low profile, she settled on a clean cloth and bowl of soapy water. It wasn’t what she wished for, but it would have to suffice.
She stripped off her coat and gown, standing naked while she scrubbed at her skin. The traces of sweat, brandy, and gunpowder were slowly washed away. For the first time in days, she almost felt human again.
Now for sleep.
Exhaustion gnawed at her frayed nerves. At least there was the relief of finally having confessed everything to Gus. He hadn’t lost his temper, for which she was grateful. Most people would have gone from shock to outrage within an instant, but not him. He had remained calm and in control.
Of course, he did. He has faced untold dangers before.
It took a special kind of man to hold his courage steady when coming face to face with the customs authorities on either side of the English Channel. An ice-cool demeanor which allowed for lies to roll easily off the tongue. And the ability to convince others that he was just a humble sailor who enjoyed life on the sea.
From her satchel she took out a clean gown and laid it on the bed. Then, seated before the tall, thin mirror which hung on the wall, she began the task of undoing the damage which the wind, rain, and hours of riding had inflicted on her hair.
I look like a drowned rat that has been pulled backwards through a water pipe. Thank heavens I packed a brush.
Her long, pale locks were a tangle of knots and frizz. She would give a handful of those gold coins for a maid to assist with repairing the mess.
Slowly but surely, she worked to settle the chaos. By the time Gus reappeared, she had combed her hair and was setting it into loose braids.
He gifted her with a warm smile then turned and locked the door. “I have spoken to the stable boy and given him a quarter franc, with the promise of another before we leave in the morning. He was filling a second pail of oats for our horses when I left.”
Evangeline offered her own grin in response. It was such a relief to have Gus with her. She wasn’t alone anymore.
After Gobain had thrown a shoe last night, Evangeline had walked for miles along the dark road which led from Sainte-Anne to Jodoc’s house. She had wept for some of that time, fearful of what would happen if Marec’s men found her and cursing herself for allowing her impetuous nature to overrule good sense.
Every rustle of wind and leaf disturbed had had her peering into the night. Her heart continually racing with the fear that at any moment the thunder of horse’s hooves would announce her imminent death.
She set the hairbrush down. The braids would have to do. Fatigue had finally caught up with her.
“Your hair looks nice,” he said.
Evangeline rose from the chair, smoothing down her skirts. The plain gray, woolen gown wouldn’t get her an invitation to any fine homes in Paris. It was functional, and that was what counted.
She was no longer the mistress of Château-de-La-Roche; she was simply Evangeline. And if, God willing, she survived the coming days, she would have to come to terms with her new life.
Gus softly chuckled. “No that’s not right. Evangeline, you look lovely. A vision of Breton beauty.”
She stared at him. Where had that come from? His earlier compliment had given her a private thrill. This second one had her wondering if someone had snatched the real Gus from outside in the stables and replaced him with an exact twin.
If that was the case, she could only hope this version of Gus was as good a fighter as the original.
“When did you start practicing such wonderful encomiums?” she replied.
His soft chuckle went straight to her heart.
If you had any idea what hearing you say those words meant to me, you might blush.
“They are easy when it comes to you, Evangeline. They always have been. It’s just that now I feel the time is right to give them voice.” There was something in his tone that had her narrowing her eyes at Gus. The hard, warrior was gone—in his place, a gentle lover.
He crossed the floor, and after taking hold of her hand, led her over to the bed and sat her down. She stilled as Gus took a seat beside her.
His fingers now entwined with hers, and he too stilled. “You were brave enough to be honest with me earlier. And now it is time that I do the same with you.”
She stared at their joined hands while a hundred thoughts raced through her mind. Was he in league with Vincent? Had he sold her out?
