“Can’t we stay? I am sure the tide will be there tomorrow,” she whined.
He kissed her once more before taking the blankets firmly in hand and throwing them back. Evangeline gave him a filthy look but climbed out of bed.
While she sat on the mattress, leisurely putting on her stockings, Gus quickly dressed. He pulled his hat on, arranging it into place. “This might well be the last time I wear this disguise,” he said.
If he was going home to England, and giving up the smuggling trade, he wouldn’t be needing a wig and tricorne hat anymore.
She rose and came around to his side of the bed. Evangeline pointed at the hat. “We could use it to play smuggler and bounty when we are alone in our bedroom. You could be the contraband, and I could steal you. I shall buy you a new wig as a wedding gift.”
His manhood twitched. He could almost imagine it having a voice begging him to take her back to bed and have his way with her a third time.
But the yacht and crew were waiting. They had stayed in port long enough; he wouldn’t win any friends if they missed the evening tide. “Alright, but then I get to play the head of the customs militia. I have some very unusual forms of punishment planned.”
Her eyes grew wide at his teasing words. Rising up on her toes, she offered him her mouth. They shared a long, languid kiss.
“I can just imagine. And I promise to deserve them all,” she whispered.
Hand in hand, they left the safe house and made their way along Rue Wilson to the dock. At the sight of the yacht, Evangeline’s heart rate kicked up a notch. Her mouth grew dry.
She was really leaving France.
When she glanced at Gus, he turned and gave her a reassuring smile. It said all she needed to hear.
All will be well. We have a future together. Some day you will return.
Gus’s footsteps slowed as they neared the boat. He slipped his hand into his coat pocket and withdrew his pistol. He cocked it. “Something’s not right.”
Evangeline checked the weather deck. There was not a sailor to be seen. The sails were only partly set. If theNight Windwas going to sail with the tide, there should have been all hands on deck making ready.
Gus leaned over. “I want you to go back to the safe house. Wait for me there. If I don’t come, you find your way to the church and seek sanctuary.”
There was movement on the deck, and Captain Grey appeared. Behind him was Claude. Marec’s number-two man held a pistol to the Englishman’s head.
Evangeline made a move, doing as Gus had instructed. She had only gone a yard or so before she spied Vincent stepping out from a nearby doorway. He held a rifle, aimed squarely at her.
My rifle.
“Did you let him take his time with you, my dear, sweet Evangeline? Nice and gentle? Or did you fight him like you did me?”
She made slow steps back to her husband’s side. Gus had his pistol lowered, his gaze moving back and forth between the two men. From the expression on his face, it was clear he was weighing up the situation.
Whichever of the gang you shoot first will leave the other open to kill.
Either way someone was sure to die.
As Vincent approached, other members of his gang fell in behind him. It was now five weapons against Gus’s one.
“Move!” Vincent ordered.
Evangeline and Gus drew closer to the boat. When they neared the end of the gangplank, Vincent hurried and came to stand in front of them. “That will do, thank you.”
A trickle of sweat slid down Evangeline’s spine. She kept her gaze on the rifle, her stomach dropping when Vincent aimed it at Gus.
No. Anyone but him. I couldn’t bear to see my own weapon take my husband’s life.
“Please, Vincent. If you have to kill someone today, then make it me. Gus has nothing to do with our fight. Let him and the crew of the yacht go. They are all innocents.”
Vincent snorted. “And when did I ever listen to the words of a whore?”
