Triumph winged through her.
We have gotten you and my brother. Two we have saved. Two we take to England with us to laugh and dance and sing.
She gulped down her tears. She would not cry. For Luc and this young woman, she would rejoice.
Even if she could not for herself.
#
“We must move on tonight,” Evan urged Luc and Rafe. They sat at their rickety table by the fireplace and drank the last of their very good brandy that Luc had bought from a nearby café.
“Are you able to travel, Luc?” Rafe eyed the thin fellow who seemed sturdier than he appeared.
“Ha! Can I flee this land? Oui.Anger gives me wings. But I will not leave Zephora. She is…so ill.”
Rafe shook his head. “The more numerous we are, the more noticeable.”
Evan agreed. “That is my worry too. Vaillancourt wants three of us badly. The two women the most.” From the stories of his friends—the Ashleys, Ramseys, and Carlisles—he knew how vicious Vaillancourt could be toward women he coveted. If the gendarmes captured the five of them and took them back to Paris, Vaillancourt would hurl both Zephora and his darling wife in prison. The man would kill them, and not by any means swiftly, but by all means possible to him, publicly.
Luc grew stern. “I have thought on this. I will go alone.”
Evan grunted. “You are not well, Luc. You are starved. Tired. We ran quickly two nights ago. But you need more strength. We dare not stay here any longer.”
“I know this part of France,” said Rafe. “Stay with Zephora and me.”
“And I, too, know it very well.” Luc nodded. “Since a child, I traveled between our home on the Loire and Paris. My wines were sold in the city and made us richer than we thought we should be. There is no town I do not know. No lane I have not plodded down.”
“And Inès?” Evan cast his gaze toward the door to the room where his wife recovered from La Mère’s attack. “Does she know this land, too?”
“Oui. But Vaillancourt will know this of her. He wants her. I know it. He came to my cell often and taunted me with his attempts to capture her.”
“Did he tell you how he had blackmailed her into saving you?”
“To kill for him? Oui. Bastard! He rejoiced in his devilry.”
“Inès murdered no one.” Evan’s heart pounded at what his wife had faced—and done. To say nothing of how she had accomplished and survived it all alone. But that day was done. He was hers and she was his.
“We must separate,” Luc declared, then looked at Rafe. “You know it, too.”
“I do.” Rafe scowled and nodded toward the bedroom where the women lay. “I worry that my lady of the winds cannot go just yet.”
Evan knew Rafe thought Zephora Burton about to die. Rafe had carried the young woman out of that miserable cell and up out into the free night breezes as if she were a sack of grain. As they ran to the bateau, he had cursed the lack of more blankets to wrap her in. On the boat, he had laid her down, then joined in the fight against La Mère and her henchman.
But as soon as both had sunk to the river’s depths, Rafe had curled the woman to his body to warm her. That she was frail meant he had handled her as if she were fine crystal. God knew, she was so thin, she might be transparent.
Rafe had cuddled her, unafraid of any disease she carried or the tiny vermin in her long red hair. As they had climbed into their hired fiacre in the village of Passy, he had kept her well away from the rest of their party.
“No need for all of us to be lousy,” he had warned.
At once, here in their old farrier’s cottage, Rafe had pumped water from the well, warmed it in their fireplace, set her naked into the hip bath they had found, then cut her hair.He had walked into town to theapothecaireand bought sulfa powder to kill her lice—and oil of aloe and verbena to soothe her dry skin. He had washed and oiled every inch of her, unabashed, unapologetic. She was not conscious of any moment of his care. Not even, Evan thought, when he had spoon-fed her a beef broth Evan and Luc had made in the stew pot.
Zephora Butler had become Rafe’s only focus, her recovery his only goal. That the lady had not uttered a sound, made a move, or shown in any way that she still lived presented no challenge for him. As always, any problem he sought to solve became his sole reason to live.
“I leave after dusk,” Luc told them.
“Money?” Evan knew Luc would need it to survive and especially to pay the hefty fee to any smuggler who dared run the French and British blockade in the Atlantic.
“I will have means, never fear.”
