Petals in the Storm (45 page)

The colonel's gaze touched Helene, who was tensely waiting at the third corner of their triangle. "Such a thing should not be impossible when men share the same goal." He offered his hand. "Shall we try to go forward together?"

Roussaye gave a slow smile and took the Prussian's hand. "Very well, Colonel. Instead of looking back, we shall go forward—together."

Though Rafe's charge took the two searchers by surprise, the taller one whipped up his shotgun and fired both barrels. Rafe managed to knock the weapon upward so that the shot discharged into the ceiling, but the blast was deafening and a ricocheting pellet grazed his wrist.

Undaunted, the tall man swung the empty shotgun above his head to use it as a club. Before he could bring it down, Rafe kicked him viciously in the groin. The gunman shrieked and doubled over.

Glad to see that he hadn't forgotten the lessons of distant college tavern brawls, Rafe turned his attention to his other foe, a broad, balding fellow who was clumsily trying to aim his weapon. Before he succeeded, Rafe hit him in the jaw with a right jab that could have felled a small ox.

The tall man lurched toward Rafe in a feeble attempt to rejoin the fight. Rafe stepped aside, then chopped the edge of his hand down on the back of the man's neck. The servant promptly joined his companion on the floor.

Rafe snatched up the two shotguns and the ammunition pouches. Not stopping to reload the gun that had been discharged, he raced down the hall after Margot and Robin. The whole encounter had taken less than a minute, and he caught up with the others around the next corner.

Rafe looked so rakishly handsome that Maggie would have stopped to admire him if there had been time, which there wasn't. With a glance at the two shotguns, she panted, "I'm impressed, your grace. I didn't know that rough and tumble fighting was taught at Jackson's salon."

"It isn't, but I did have a liberal university education," Rafe retorted, laughter in his voice.

The passage ended with a door. Robin swung it open, revealing another pair of searchers literally face-to-face with them. Since Maggie was already halfway through the doorway, she collided full force with one of Varenne's men.

The impact knocked her breathless, but it bore much harder on Rex, who had been letting himself be carried with amazing passivity. The cat erupted straight up in the air with a blood-curdling shriek of feline fury.

He came down on the man who had collided with Maggie, and his flailing claws and powerful hindquarters ripped and slashed with gory effect. Using the man's face as a launching ramp to safety, Rex left the gunman screaming as blood poured from his face. The cat vanished down the passage behind the servants, his black tail a feathery plume of rage.

Rafe dragged Maggie back, then slammed the door on the demoralized searchers. As they ran back the way they had come, he said, "You are
not
going after that damned cat!"

Maggie was too out of breath to say anything other than a sarcastic, "Yes, your grace."

"Amazing," Rafe said as they swung into another passage. "That's the first docile remark I've ever heard from you, Countess."

"Savor it," she said tartly. "It's the first
and
the last."

The fleeting humor disappeared when they reached an intersection where two corridors crossed. Another pair of armed men appeared in front of them, drawn by the sound of the earlier shotgun blast. Maggie glanced back, and saw that the cat-struck duo had recovered and were coming after them.

"Go to the right!" Rafe ordered. "And take this." He handed her one of the shotguns and an ammunition pouch.

While she and Robin dashed down the right-hand cross passage, Rafe raised the other gun and cocked both hammers. After discharging one barrel ahead of them, he spun around and blasted the other one behind. He didn't bother to aim, relying on the scattering effect of the shot to discourage the searchers. Then he followed his companions.

Seeing that Robin was near collapse, Maggie halted by a door in the middle of the corridor. It was locked. With a silent prayer, she fumbled for the key to her bedchamber, which she had kept after locking Northwood in. To her acute relief, the key worked and the door opened to reveal an ascending staircase.

When Rafe pelted up, she said, "Thank God that the locks in this place are so old and crude. The same key probably works on all of them. Come on!"

Instead of following, Robin slumped against the wall, his face white. "I can't... keep up. You'll never escape with me slowing you down," he gasped. "Leave me with a loaded shotgun—maybe I can buy you some time."

Before Maggie could speak, Rafe snapped, "Don't be a damned fool." He looped his free arm around Robin, then started up the steps.

Maggie relocked the door, then followed the men upward. With luck, the hunters wouldn't be able to guess that their quarry had gone this way.

They climbed for what she estimated was two floors before reaching another door. It opened into a hall that was wider and better kept than the service passages below; they had reached the section of the castle where the masters lived. After the hubbub below, it was eerily silent.

Rafe eased Robin into a sitting position against the wall, then reloaded the shotguns. "From the direction of the light, I think that the river face is to the left, so we have to go right to get out of the castle."

Worriedly Maggie said to Robin, "Can you keep going for a little longer?"

Robin was chalk-pale and perspiration beaded his face, but he struggled to his feet again. "Now that I've caught my breath, I'm fine. Don't worry, I've ridden a hundred miles with worse."

"Liar." Tenderly she brushed sweaty hair from his forehead. "Luckily, we don't have to go a hundred miles."

Observing the intimacy befween his companions, Rafe felt very much the outsider. Mentally he vowed that if they survived this, he would go away as silently as possible; they would never even notice he was gone. "Time to go," he said, his voice clipped. "Varenne claimed to have a small army, and they're probably all outside between here and the stable. Margot, be prepared to use that shotgun."

She nodded soberly, and he gave thanks for the unladylike skills her father had taught her. He was also grateful for the fact that Robin had a coolheaded recognition of his own limitations. With luck, they might actually make it out alive.

A few minutes of exploration brought them to a stairway to the ground floor. In a low voice, Rafe said, "Since the doors are probably guarded, let's find a room on the east side and go out through a window."

Stealthily they went downstairs and soon located a shabby morning room with windows only about five feet about the ground. Rafe opened the casements and helped Margot and Robin out, then dropped lightly beside them. "Shall we see if the stables are being guarded by Varenne's army?"

"They had better not be." Margot hoisted her shotgun again. "We're running out of time."

It was a sobering remark. While saving their own lives had high priority, it was far from their only concern.

When the combined French and Prussian forces reached the gates of Chanteuil, there was no one in sight and the gate was locked. Helene watched tensely as von Fehrenbach dismounted and rattled the gate. Eventually an ancient gatekeeper emerged.

Sharply the colonel said, "Open this gate in the name of Marshal Blücher and the Allied Army of Occupation."

Since the gatekeeper seemed rooted to the ground, Roussaye called out, "You will not be harmed as long as you obey orders."

The Frenchman's reassurance succeeded where the Prussian order hadn't, and after a minute of fumbling the gate was opened. Riders began streaming through. As the Hussars entered the grounds, the flat, deadly rattle of gunfire came from the castle that crowned the hill. Von Fehrenbach wheeled his mount to face Helene. "Wait here, Madame Sorel, until we have dealt with whatever rabble Varenne has."

She nodded, her tired hands clutching her horse's reins. "Just ... please be careful."

He nodded and touched one hand to his forehead. Then he spurred his mount toward the sounds of firing.

As Helene watched the men gallop up the driveway, she prayed that they were in time.

Maggie and company saw no one on the shrubbed path between castle and stable. The open yard felt horribly exposed, and it was a relief to reach the stabledoor. Rafe unfastened the latch, then stood to one side as he kicked the door open, his shotgun ready for any danger within.

His precautions were unnecessary; the stables appeared to be empty of everything but horses. Probably the grooms had been pressed into the search at the castle.

After scanning the interior, Rafe said,"Robin, pick the best horses. Margot, find some harness. I'll stand guard."

The other two nodded and moved off, meshing together into a smoothly working team. As she turned right to look for the harness room, Maggie thought it was remarkable how well they were getting on considering that all three people were by nature leaders, more accustomed to giving orders than receiving them.

Her thoughts were abruptly cut off when she entered the tack room and was seized in an iron grip. Before she could scream a warning to her companions, an iron hand clamped over her mouth. She fought fiercely to free herself, but she was no match for her assailant's strength. Viciously he twisted her arm until she was forced to drop the shotgun. Then he pulled her head around so that she could see him.

She found herself looking into the black eyes of the Count de Varenne. He smiled, his usual congenial social smile, and jammed a cocked dueling pistol against her temple. There would be bruises, if she lived long enotigh.

"Congratulations on escaping my men in the castle," he said, a little breathless from the exertion of subduing her. "I am not entirely surprised—you and your lovers are formidable adversaries. Have the three of you ever shared a bed? I would think that would account for the harmony among you."

Not bothering to wait for an answer, he forced her ahead of him into the main stable block. Once there, he slipped his left hand from her mouth and locked his arm around her midriff, pinning her arms to her sides. "Now you may scream all you like, Countess."

Hearing Varenne's voice, Robin swung around. His furious oath caused Rafe to turn, then stop dead, frozen with horror.

"I'm sure that neither of you gentlemen wishes any harm to come to your lovely fraudulent countess," Varenne snapped. "Drop the gun, Candover. Then both of you raise your hands above your heads and move into the center of the room."