“I’m not giving you a choice, you bloody Englishman!” Durand snarled.

He was steadying his aim when a dark figure walked past Grey. Dear heaven, Père Laurent! The old priest looked disreputable, but his head was high.

In a rich voice that could fill a church, he said, “Don’t kill another innocent man, Claude. You have enough sins on your soul.”

Durand’s pistol began wavering. “Get away from me, you vile old man! You are not my judge!”

“I was merely your confessor,” Père Laurent said calmly as he stepped between Durand and Grey. “God is your judge, but a merciful one. Redemption is possible even for the great sinners if there is true contrition. Repent before it is too late.”

“I am damned already!” Durand squeezed the trigger. At the same instant, a dagger flew out of the darkness behind Grey and sliced into Durand’s hand. Cassie.

Durand swore and his hand jerked as the pistol fired. The blast echoed between the walls as Père Laurent crumpled to the ground.

Père Laurent! Feeling as if the dagger had struck his own heart, Grey hurled himself past the priest and tackled Durand before the devil could reload his pistol. Grey and Père Laurent might be doomed, but Grey would damned well take Durand with them.

They flailed across the ground in a tangle of fists and thrashing limbs. As the sergeant yelled at his men not to fire because they might kill the wrong man, Durand hissed, “You stupid decadent goddam! Do you think you can escape alive?”

“Probably not.” Grey remembered the time they’d fought before when Grey had been weakened from his imprisonment. Durand was still surprisingly strong for a man his age, and a tough, dirty fighter, but now Grey was stronger and in a killing rage. “But I’m not going alone!”

He locked his hands around Durand’s throat, cutting off a stream of obscenity. From the corner of his eye, he saw the soldiers approaching to pull the fighters apart. It was time to end this. “In the name of justice, I execute you, Claude Durand!”

He twisted the older man’s neck. There was an audible snap, and the light of life vanished from Durand’s eyes.

A moment later rough hands seized him and dragged him to his feet. The sergeant flung up his rifle and aimed at Grey’s chest at point-blank range. Grey felt no fear, and only one regret. I should have told Cassie I love her.

The sergeant was cocking his rifle when a powerful woman’s voice called, “Halt! Do not shoot this man!”

Grey and Durand’s soldiers all snapped their gazes toward the voice. A tall, full-figured woman was rushing toward them, a cape billowing around her. A dark angel silhouetted against a burning shed.

She stopped ten feet from Grey, panting for breath. “No more shooting, no more violence! Not if you and your men wish to be paid for your work here. I’ll add a bonus for everyone if you obey now.”

The sergeant sputtered, “Madame, this pig murdered your husband! A government minister!”

“The man was acting in self-defense.” Camille stared at her husband’s body. Crossing herself, she added, “Durand shot a priest. He refused God’s mercy, and received God’s punishment.”

Grey was released, though he heard muttered cursing. But since these men were mercenaries, the promise of money was enough to buy their cooperation.

“Sergeant Dupuy, gather your men to fight the fire,” Camille ordered. “This castle has stood for five centuries. I don’t want to see it burn tonight.” She swallowed convulsively. “Tell the castle steward to take my husband’s body to the chapel and have the estate carpenter make a coffin.”

Scowling, Dupuy gathered his men with a glance and headed toward the fires. Grey bowed deeply to his savior. “My most profound thanks, Madame Durand.”

“Grey. It’s been a long time,” she said quietly. “I prefer you call me Camille.”

“You look well, Camille.” And she did. Fuller of figure, touches of silver in her dark hair, but still a handsome woman. “I’m sorry you had to see your husband killed.”

“I’m not.” Her face worked as she struggled to maintain her composure. “There was … much between us, but he was a monster.”

Grey caught a motion from the corner of his eyes and turned to see Cassie helping Père Laurent to his feet. “Père Laurent, you’re alive!”

“Indeed I am, and barely touched by the bullet.” He patted Cassie’s supportive hand. “Madame Renard’s knife ruined Durand’s shot, but because I am old, a grazed shoulder was enough to knock me down.”

“God be thanked!” Camille caught hold of the priest’s hands. “I swear I didn’t know what Durand did to you and Lord Wyndham. He never told me, and I never came to the castle because I dislike it.”

“This has not been a happy place,” Père Laurent agreed. She surveyed the bleak stone walls with a shudder. “I much prefer Paris. But Durand insisted I come this time because there was something here to amuse me.”

Durand had wanted her to see Grey and Père Laurent die. It sounded like the man was deeply twisted, and he compelled his wife to witness his mad whims.

“I never believed that you condoned his behavior,” the priest said soothingly.

Camille released the priest’s hands and turned to Grey. “I’m sorry, my golden boy. I never thought a bit of amusement would have such terrible repercussions.” Her mouth twisted. “Durand was aroused by my indiscretions. But I should have known not to take an Englishman to my bed. That he could not bear.”

It was altogether too French for Grey. He took her hand and bent to kiss it lightly. “There is no need for apologies. We both erred. That is the past. What matters is the present. Can Père Laurent’s niece and her family go home safely with no repercussions?”

“Of course. They never should have been imprisoned. You may borrow a carriage to get them home. Père Laurent, will you stay till morning? Your wound should be seen to, and I am in dire need of confession.” Camille’s gaze moved to Durand’s body again. “Also … there is a funeral to be arranged.”

“Of course, my dear girl.” The priest, who had knelt to close Durand’s eyes, moved forward to take Camille’s arm and they headed toward the castle entrance.

Grey’s gaze returned to Durand’s body. He didn’t feel triumphant. He didn’t feel guilty for killing a monster. He felt shaken and tired and glad that the long nightmare was over, and he and his friends had survived.

Cassie had been standing quietly in the shadows, but now she moved to Grey’s side. “You have interesting taste in mistresses, and I thank God for it.”

He put an arm around Cassie, so tired he could barely stand. “Perhaps Père Laurent’s prayers brought her here in time for a miracle. Now we need a good night’s sleep, and a safe journey home to England. It would be far too ironic to survive this and get ourselves killed on the way out of France.”

“That won’t happen,” Cassie said confidently. “Soon we’ll be safe in London and Kirkland will heave a great sigh of relief.”

Dragging his mind back to the present, he asked, “The Boyers escaped safely?”

“They wouldn’t leave in case you needed help.”

He turned and saw Viole and Romain and their children hastening toward him. They were in dire need of baths and fresh clothing, but they wore beaming smiles.

Viole came right up to Grey and kissed him on the cheek. “You have the courage often lions, Monsieur Sommers!”

He gave her a tired smile. “Then your uncle has the courage of a hundred lions.”

“I think he prayed us a miracle.” She slid an arm around Romain’s waist, holding tight. “It’s a long walk back to the farm. Where might we find that carriage ride that Madame Durand offered?”

“At the stables.” Grey wrapped an arm around Cassie’s shoulders and led the way. “My lady fox and I will ride. May we rest at the farm for a day or two before leaving?”

“You can stay as long as you desire, mon heroes,” Romain said fervently.

As they moved into the main courtyard, Grey saw that two sheds were burning, but the flames were under control through the efforts of the soldiers and some of the castle servants.

No signs of their grenadiers. The men must have faded back into the woods to watch from a distance. Though there were numerous grenade craters dotted irregularly inside the walls, he didn’t see any bleeding bodies.

Viole was right. There had been a miracle.


Chapter 47

It was very late when Cassie and Grey arrived back at the farmhouse. They pushed their narrow beds together and slept in each other’s arms despite the awkward gap between the mattresses. Cassie was so tired she could have slept on a bed of nails.

It was nearing midday when she woke. She drowsed a little, not opening her eyes. She’d had grave doubts about whether she’d see another day, yet here she was. And she’d have another fortnight or so with Grey before they reached England and said their farewells.

“You’re smiling like a happy cat,” Grey murmured in her ear, his breath warm. “Shall we get up and find something to eat? I’m ravenous.”

“Life-threatening adventures do work up an appetite.” She debated seducing him—it was never difficult—but she was hungry and also wanted to affirm that everyone really was well.

She swung from the bed, did a quick wash at the basin, and donned her boring Madame Harel gown. She was going to burn the beastly thing when she reached England.

They followed the sound of laughter to the kitchen. Cassie and Grey entered to find the Boyers and Duvals and incandescent happiness. She and Grey were greeted with welcoming cries and seated at the long table opposite Père Laurent, who had just returned from his duties at Castle Durand. Cassie felt quiet satisfaction that Grey didn’t flinch at the number of people.