Chapter 16
Just as Johnson was about to bang the man on the head with the butt of his pistol, the intruder spoke. “I’ve found us some fancy transportation back to the coast, sir.”
“Higgins!” Damien exclaimed. “Next time, give us the warning call so we know it’s you. Let’s see this fancy transportation.”
He followed Higgins out the door. Sitting incongruously before the cottage was a very expensive coach and four. The coach door opened, and a portly gentleman descended with his hands held above his head. He was followed by young Wells who aimed a pistol at the man’s back.
“Good evening, sir.” Wells grinned. “This is Citizen Boudreau. He has graciously allowed us the use of his carriage this evening.”
Damien grinned and bowed before the man. “Citizen Boudreau, a pleasure to meet you, sir. Allow me to introduce myself.”
“I know who you are!” the man blurted. “You are Le Chat!”
Damien raised an amused eyebrow. “You know of me, then, monsieur?”
Monsieur Boudreau’s hands trembled. “I know nothing, monsieur,” he protested. “I am just a poor merchant. I will give you all the money I have with me.”
Damien looked askance at the elegant coach. “Just a poor merchant, monsieur? Then I must be a dear friend of Monsieur Fouché,” he said drily. “We do not want your money, monsieur. What we want is your carriage and your silence and your cooperation. Now, kindly get back into this fine conveyance. One of my men will wait with you so that you will not feel lonely.” As Boudreau turned away and climbed back inside, Damien winked and nodded his approval at Wells.
Higgins retrieved a bundle from under the driver’s seat and handed it to Damien. “We borrowed his footmen’s clothes, too, sir,” he said.
Damien smiled. “Nicely done, Higgins. You can do the honors and drive.”
As Higgins began changing his clothes, Damien gave orders to move out. He went back inside the cottage and strode to the cot. Jessica was still unconscious. When he put his hand on her forehead, he felt the hot, dry skin of a fever. He muttered a curse. He had to get her home quickly. After checking her shoulder to see that the bleeding had slowed, he wrapped her in another blanket, then doused the fire. His sharp gaze flicked around the space to be sure they’d left no evidence of their presence. Satisfied, he scooped Jessica up and carried her out to the carriage. He laid her on the empty seat with her head in his lap, then gave the word to leave. Johnson sat beside Monsieur Boudreau with his pistol pressed against the man’s side. Their passenger looked like he was about to be ill.
“Is there something wrong, monsieur?” Damien asked mildly.
“What did you do to her, you fiend?” the man demanded.
“Do, monsieur? I did nothing to her.”
The man gestured at Jessica’s unconscious body and stammered, “But-but…”
“She was shot, monsieur, and, I assure you, not by me.” Damien gave him a level stare.
“There was a rumor of a shooting at the auction, but I thought…” The man’s voice trailed off once again.
“Ah, you were at the auction this evening,” Damien said mildly.
Monsieur Boudreau looked frightened to death. Tiny beads of sweat popped out on his forehead. He mopped his brow with a lace-edged handkerchief, nervously wiped the palms of his hands, then wiped his forehead a second time. Damien decided to give the fellow a little more to tell his friends.
“What were you doing at the auction, monsieur?” Damien asked. “I did not see you bid on any of the merchandise.”
Monsieur Boudreau’s eyes bulged. “W-well, I—I…he stammered.
“Yes?”
The man swallowed. “I just went to watch, monsieur,” he whined.
“To watch?” Damien repeated. The stiletto appeared in his hand. The blade caught a glint of moonlight as he leaned forward. “To watch whom?” he demanded.
“No one!” the man exclaimed, leaning as far back as the seat would allow. Then amending his lie, he said, “I mean, the girls. I went to watch the girls.” He gestured in Jessica’s direction.
Cold rage washed through Damien as he remembered that room full of men leering at Jessica. But he needed to be sure the man across from him was merely a bystander and not one of Fouché’s men.
“I think not,” he said. “I think you were there to catch a glimpse of Le Chat.”
“No! No, no. He shook his head vigorously as he kept his gaze on the knife. “Only the girls.” Then he pleaded, “Please, monsieur, I am a married man with children.”
Damien believed him. The man’s fear was too real. He needed to keep him afraid. He sat back and narrowed his eyes. “Then you should be home with them. I do not like others ogling my woman,” he said as he tightened his hold on Jessica. “I do not think I like you, Monsieur Boudreau.”
“But Monsieur Le Chat, I did not know she was yours,” the man tried to placate. “I only heard…” His voice trailed off with a squeak.
“What did you hear, monsieur?” Damien asked.
When the man did not answer immediately, Johnson nudged him in the ribs with the pistol. Monsieur Boudreau jumped.
Quickly, he answered, “Only that there was to be a special item at the auction tonight. That you would be there.” Fear made his jowls tremble.
Damien met Johnson’s eyes. Madame du Barré had been busy spreading her venom. “You would do well to stay home with your wife and children next time,” Damien said, his lips curled in disgust.
The portly man bobbed his head in vigorous agreement.
Damien turned away, ending the conversation. Eventually, their hostage fell asleep. In between his snores, Damien listened to Jessica’s irregular breathing. He had never felt so helpless and prayed they would reach the coast without mishap. But after they had traveled for quite some time, the coach slowed and stopped. Damien and Johnson exchanged worried glances. Johnson nudged their captive awake.
“Monsieur,” Damien said, “you will find out the cause of this delay and get rid of whoever has stopped this coach. Do not try anything foolish. Remember that my men are sitting above and will hear everything that is said. There will be a pistol trained on your back at all times. If there is any killing tonight, be assured that the first to die will be you.” He motioned for the gentleman to get out.
Johnson carefully looked out and reported on what was taking place. “A patrol. I can see five, no, six men. Boudreau is talking to them. They seem to be accepting what he is saying. He’s coming back. The patrol isn’t leaving.”
Monsieur Boudreau opened the door and stepped into the coach. He wiped his brow with his damp handkerchief.
“The sergeant insisted on accompanying me to my home,” he told Damien. “He said the notorious bandit, Le Chat, was in this area, and it was not safe to be out alone.”
Damien smiled widely, appreciating the irony of the situation. “I am glad he was so solicitous of your welfare, monsieur. A shame he will never know that he escorted Le Chat to safety. Is there a house close by?”
Boudreau looked out the window. “I think there is one about a mile up the road.”
“Good. We will pretend it is yours.”
Damien communicated the plan to Higgins through the little door in the ceiling. He prayed that one of the soldiers did not look inside the coach before he could be rid of them. Relief washed through him when Higgins turned into a drive.
“Thank the soldiers, monsieur,” Damien instructed their prisoner. “Do it quickly and get rid of them.”
Monsieur Boudreau stuck his head out of the coach and called his thanks to the patrol as Higgins drove slowly down the long lane, then stopped around a curve. They waited tensely for the soldiers to leave. Finally, he turned the coach about, and they continued on their journey.
They halted at dawn in a small field beside the road where a stream meandered through the grass. They were able to refresh themselves and water the horses. Jessica was still unconscious, and her fever had risen. Her skin was hot and dry to the touch. Damien bathed her face with cool water and forced a few drops through her cracked lips. Her eyes opened, and she stared up at him. They were glazed from the fever and an incredible, bright blue.
She reached up and touched his cheek. “Damien,” she sighed. “Don’t let our baby die. Please.” She closed her eyes and a tear slipped out from beneath her lashes.
Damien gently pushed her hair away from her face. “The baby won’t die, Jessica. I promise.”
She sighed and fell asleep.
Damien sat back on his heels. A child? He should have known she would conceive. She’d been a maiden and had no knowledge of the ways to prevent conception as his mistresses had. He shook his head at his lack of foresight, at his stupidity. As he caressed her face, he knew her naïveté did not matter. He’d wanted her from the moment he saw her at the gaming hell.
The impact of this news hit him like a blow from a sledge hammer. He could not catch his breath. God’s teeth, everything was different now.
She was with child… The daughter of the man who shot and killed his brother carried Damien’s unborn child in her womb. He dragged air into his lungs and shook his head at the insanity of it. But he could not dwell on that now. He had to get them out of France.
He pushed all other thoughts out of his mind as he inspected her shoulder. The bleeding had almost stopped. After washing the wound, he changed the bandage, then gathered everyone together. They had to move on. Until they reached the coast, they would not be safe.
By late afternoon, they sighted the English Channel. It was a relief for everyone. They were all exhausted, and Monsieur Boudreau’s whining and complaining grated on everyone’s frazzled nerves.
They waited at the edge of the beach for Walker who had been riding several minutes behind the coach with the horses. Damien shifted Jessica off his lap and onto the seat, then he climbed down to reassure himself that all was well. He scanned the area. The beach was empty, and the woods and fields in the other direction seemed quiet. Their small bark was anchored several yards out from shore, just where they’d left it. As he walked to the water’s edge, Higgins and Wells disappeared into the woods to attend to nature’s call.
Damien watched the bark rise and fall gently on the swells. A sense of urgency flowed through him. They would not be safe until they were on board and sailing away from shore. Jessica’s life and that of his unborn child depended on him. He swallowed, not wanting to think about what that meant.
A sound from behind made him swing about. He cursed. Their luck had run out. Madame du Barré sat atop the dunes on a horse surrounded by eight soldiers. They each held a rifle aimed at him. Two more soldiers were on each side of the coach, and they also had guns trained on the occupants inside. Damien glanced quickly towards the woods where Higgins and Wells had disappeared, but there was no sign of them. Walker had not yet arrived. Madame rode onto the beach followed by the soldiers.
Hiding his apprehension, Damien strolled toward the woman and bowed. “Good afternoon, Madame.” He flashed a grin. “Did you come to see us off on our voyage?”
She laughed lightly. “You are a brazen rogue, Monsieur Le Chat. Always ready with the quick wit, eh? But I do not think you will be taking any voyages for a long time. As you can see, you are greatly outnumbered. I believe you have used up all of your nine lives.”
Damien grinned. “Do not be so sure, Madame. Did you know that this spot is called Witch’s Cove? Witches are known to have supernatural powers and are always associated with cats.” As he spoke, he moved closer to her horse.
“Stay where you are, monsieur,” she warned. “These men will get very nervous if you come any closer.”
As she finished speaking, an eerie wail came out of the woods. It ended in unearthly laughter. The horses shied and pranced nervously. The soldiers fought to keep them still and exchanged frightened, worried glances.
“You will not fool me with your tricks, Monsieur Le Chat,” she said sternly.
“Tricks, Madame?” he queried. “I have used no tricks. You have watched me. I have been standing here before you in full view.”
As he spoke his last word, the sound of many horses came from the woods. They thundered across the ground, sounding as if they would burst out of the woods in a huge herd. The soldiers with Madame tensed, shifting their rifles toward the woods as they prepared for a large group of riders to emerge, but none appeared. Then, as suddenly as the sound had begun, it stopped. There was no fading of the sound into the distance, it merely ceased. There was deathly silence. Even the waves crashing on the beach seemed muted.
“Ghosts!” one of the younger soldiers exclaimed.
“Witches,” another mumbled.
“Captain contain your men,” Madame ordered to the officer beside her without taking her eyes from Damien.
Before the captain could open his mouth, the spectral laughter sounded again from the woods. Two of the soldiers crossed themselves, turned their horses, and bolted. Damien raised an amused eyebrow at Madame.
“Hold steady, men,” the captain commanded.
“What are those noises, sir?” a very young soldier questioned.
“Quiet, soldier!” the captain barked.
Three huge, black crows flew up out of the trees, circled, and, cawing loudly, swooped past the group on the beach.
“Mother of God,” one of the soldiers who was guarding the carriage mumbled. “Witch’s messengers.” He dropped his rifle and galloped away, followed by two more men.
As the remaining three soldiers and Madame were distracted by the commotion, Damien dug the toe of his boot into the sand and flung it up in front of Madame’s horse. The animal reared in fright. Madame fought for control, but without success and toppled off the horse. In a flash, Damien dropped to one knee beside her and held his stiletto to her throat. “If you do not wish to see this woman’s throat slashed, gentlemen, I suggest you retreat back to Paris.”
“Shoot him!” Madame screamed.
“I’m afraid I cannot do that, Madame,” the captain told her with regret. “I have received other orders from Monsieur Fouché.” He turned to Damien. “You win this time, monsieur. You are fortunate that Madame du Barré has outlived her usefulness.” He saluted and rode off with the remainder of his men close behind.
“Cowards! Fools!” Madame screamed after them. “You will live to regret this!”
Damien smiled coldly down at his captive. “I think, rather, it is you who will live to regret your actions, Madame.”
He stood and dragged the woman up with him. Whistling sharply, he waited as Higgins, Wells, and Walker emerged from the woods with the horses. Madame glared at Damien at the appearance of his men.
“You have not won yet, Monsieur Le Chat,” she spat at him. “You will never see me go to trial.”
Unmoved by her threat, Damien turned to his men with a smile. “Excellent evil spirits, gentlemen.”
“I thought the crows were a nice touch.” Higgins grinned.
Damien chuckled as he handed Madame over to the Sergeant. “Higgins, tie her up. Wells, tie up Monsieur Boudreau and start his coach back on the road to Paris. Someone is sure to find him sooner or later. The rest of you, get the horses aboard our ship. Make haste, gentlemen.”
He strode to the coach and checked inside. Jessica was mumbling in her delirium. Johnson was holding her on the seat of the carriage with one hand, and with the other, he pointed his pistol at Monsieur Boudreau. Damien gathered Jessica into his arms and carried her out to the boat. His men would see to the rest. His first concern now was the courageous, wounded woman in his arms.
Half an hour later, relief washed over Damien as he watched the shoreline of France recede in the distance. This would be his final mission as Le Chat. It had nearly cost his men their lives, and it could still snuff out Jessica’s. The thought of losing her made his chest constrict. Determined to do everything he could to keep her alive, he turned with resolute steps away from the ship’s rail to tend the sick girl who lay in a bunk below.