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.
“You’re looking well, Father,” Cassie said. The priest was clean and relaxed as he dug into a large herb and cheese omelet. “The graze on your shoulder wasn’t deep?”
Père Laurent smiled mischievously. “People have predicted my imminent demise since I was a sickly toddler, yet I’m still here. The bullet barely touched me. I think it knocked me down more because it caught the fabric of my coat.”
Grey shook his friend’s hand fervently. “I couldn’t believe it when I saw you confront Durand! It was the bravest thing I’ve ever seen.”
Père Laurent shrugged. “The worst he could do was kill me, which is not a disaster for a man of faith. But I’ll be pleased to return to a church and a congregation.” He eyed Grey sternly. “I wouldn’t have wanted you to risk your life for an old man like me, but for the sake of my Viole and her family, you have my deepest gratitude.”
As Grey looked uncomfortable with the thanks, Viole set steaming mugs of real, expensive coffee in front of Cassie and Grey. “Isn’t it fine how much we’re in charity with each other?”
“Proof that the French and the English can be friends given half a chance.” Cassie added cream and sugar to her coffee and took a deep swallow. It was delicious, hot and invigorating. Warmth and energy curled through her weary body.
“May the future hold peace, and soon.” Grey raised his coffee mug to Cassie in a toast, his eyes warm. As a woman both French and English, she couldn’t agree more. She’d never wanted war between her two homelands.
As Cassie started in on the omelet Yvette placed in front of her, Père Laurent said thoughtfully, “Your natural hair color is red like your fox namesake, isn’t it?”
She swallowed before replying. “More like a fox and less like the carrot I resembled as a child.”
He chuckled. “I wonder if your child will have red hair?”
Her coffee cup froze in midair as she stared at him.
His bushy white brows arched. “You didn’t know you were with child? Of course, it’s very early yet and you’ve been busy with other matters.”
Cassie felt her fair complexion turning violent red as everyone gazed at her with deep interest. Beside her, Grey got to his feet, clasped her upper arm in a firm grip, and said pleasantly, “If you’ll excuse us, my betrothed and I must talk.”
He marched her out of the kitchen and back to their room. After settling her trembling body on one of the beds, he knelt and built up the fire. She was grateful for the warmth since she was in shock.
He stood and regarded her intently, looking very tall and very broad shouldered. “I gather that’s news to you?”
She nodded, her stomach roiling. “Jeanne told me that Père Laurent is famous for being able to tell if a woman is with child. I … I’ve been feeling a little off, but thought it was the worry and danger.”
“You said you had a reliable method of prevention?”
“Wild carrot seeds. They work fairly well, but no method is perfect.” She gave him a twisted smile. “Heaven knows we’ve been giving the wild carrot seeds quite a lot of challenges.”
“I am …” He shook his head, groping for words. “I am awed. Amazed. Delighted. I never thought I’d live to become a father.” He sat on the bed opposite her, his knees only a foot from hers, his gaze intent. “But how do you feel about this sudden change in circumstances?”
She hesitated, her mind churning. “Delighted because I never thought I’d have a child, either. Dismayed because the timing is … awkward.” She scowled at him. “And really irritated because now you’ll feel you have to marry me.”
“Wrong.”
/> She blinked. “You aren’t going to become all gentlemanly and honorable and insist that we marry because of the baby?”
“No, I’m not.” He leaned forward and caught her hands. “The baby will be a joy, but in terms of marriage, it’s irrelevant. I already had every intention of persuading you to marry me. We’re just having this discussion a little earlier than I expected.”
She tried unsuccessfully to tug her hands away, but his grip was gently implacable, and it didn’t seem appropriate to start a wrestling match. “Unless my memory is failing, we had a conversation where I explained that needing me was no basis for marriage and that in a year you’d want something different from what you want now,” she said, exasperated. “I thought you agreed with me.”
He grinned, looking so attractive she almost melted. “I only agreed with part of it. At the time, I thought you’d have to be mad to take on a semicrazed fellow like me. But I’ve improved. I haven’t tried to kill anyone without a good reason for almost a month.”
She rolled her eyes. “I’ve heard more convincing arguments.”
“Very well.” He leaned forward, his gaze on her, his dark-edged gray eyes vivid. “I’ve changed a great deal in the last two months, but so have you.”
She thought of the hardened, wary spy she’d been when Kirkland had sent her to Castle Durand and nodded agreement. “Your legendary charm works even when you’re half mad.”
His turn to roll his eyes when she mentioned legendary charm. “There is nothing wrong with needing another person,” he said firmly. “My parents need each other every hour of every day because they’re devoted. They’re happiest when they’re together.”
“They do seem very fond.”
He must have heard a note of doubt in her voice because he said perceptively, “Are you concerned that because I’ve always liked women I’m incapable of being faithful? There you’re wrong. My father was much like me, I’m told. Quite the young gallant, including great admiration for your mother. Then he met my mother. He hasn’t looked at another woman since. I am very like him. I sowed my share of wild oats until I met the right woman. You. I love you, and that is not going to change if we wait a year.”
She stared at him helplessly, wanting to believe. Unable to.
He lifted her hands and kissed the back of one, then the other. “I love you, Cassie Catherine Cat,” he said softly. “I’ve never met a woman with your strength and grace and utter trustworthiness. Nor can I imagine a wife who will better understand me, and there’s a lot to understand.”
She hadn’t thought of that. What would a sheltered young lady make of the scarred, complicated man he’d become? Her hands curled around his protectively as she realized she didn’t want to leave him to the tender mercies of someone who couldn’t fully appreciate his hard-won strength and resilience and courage.
Seeing her expression change, he said soberly, “I’m functioning reasonably well, but I’m not yet anyone’s idea of normal. I might never be able to tolerate crowds, my temper may always be chancy. Are you willing to take me on? I was prepared to wait a year if you insisted, but the situation has changed.” He gently rubbed her flat abdomen with a large, warm hand. “I’d prefer our child be legitimate.”
She caught his hand and pressed it to her, thinking of the baby they’d made together. As soon as Père Laurent had said the words, she’d known in her marrow that he was right. Didn’t she owe her child a father?
And yet … “I’ve seen too much, experienced too much,” she said haltingly. “I don’t want you to regret that someday.”
“What will it take to convince you that I’ll never want a boring innocent?” he asked with exasperation. “It’s your experience that makes you what you are. A woman of irresistible strength and wisdom.”
He suddenly lunged the distance between them and pinned her down on the narrow bed, kissing her throat and sliding a scandalous hand up her thigh under her very respectable Madame Harel skirt. “The fact that you are also the most deliciously attractive female I’ve ever met is not the most important thing about you.”
He raised his head a moment and thought. “Though it’s close.” He captured her mouth for another kiss.
She began to laugh as belief and desire pulsed through her. “What if I’m a shallow, lustful female who would only agree to marry because of your magnificent face and body and … and advanced amatory skills?”
“That’s all right, too.” He looked at her hopefully. “Do you really want to marry me for my looks and use me shamelessly? I like that much better than being stalked for my wealth and title.”
Her throat tightened and she brushed at the dull brown hair that should be golden. They had changed each other, and for the better. She’d rescued him, nurtured him, taught him how to live in the world again. He’d taught her to open her heart. To give love. Even more difficult, to receive love.
Voice husky, she said, “I don’t want to marry you for your looks and passion, or your position and wealth.” She swallowed hard before she could get the words out. “Only because … I love you.”
His face lit with a joy that matched her own. “That’s the best reason of all, my lady fox.” His eyes crinkled with laughter. “Can I use you shamelessly now?”
She wrapped her arms around his broad chest. “Oh, please do!”
They came together with a sweet carnality where all the barriers to intimacy of mind and soul dissolved. Passion was swift and satisfying beyond anything she’d ever known. From the words of love Grey sang softly into her ear, the same was true for him.
As they lay tangled together in the too small bed, she said dreamily, “Will Père Laurent marry us without bans? It will make the child’s birthday look less irregular.”
Grey kissed her temple. “I’m sure he will, though I guarantee our families will want a second, entirely proper Church of England marriage as well.”
“I won’t mind. If wedding once is good, twice should be better.”
“That’s not the only thing that’s good once and twice is better.” He stroked suggestively down her torso.
Even as desire curled through her, she said a little breathlessly, “If you’re thinking what I think you’re thinking, I’m impressed by your stamina!”
He grinned down at her, eyes alight with mischief. “Shall we ask Viole for a second cup of coffee?”
Epilogue
“I pronounce that they be man and wife together.”
With the marriage ceremony complete, Grey escorted his radiant bride down the aisle of his family’s parish church accompanied by jubilant organ music. Indeed, wedding once was good and twice was even better.
Père Laurent had married them first in the Boyer farmhouse the morning after the raid. Grey hadn’t really thought that Cassie would change her mind, but he didn’t want to take any chances.
After sharing danger, the Boyers and Duvals felt like family, and Grey had thought he couldn’t be happier than when Père Laurent had pronounced him and Cassie man and wife. Cassie had glowed and Grey had beamed like the summer sun. The regular breakfast was easily converted into a wedding breakfast with the addition of a bottle of fine wine the Boyers had been saving for a special occasion.
The bride and groom stepped out onto the church porch. As guests tossed handfuls of flower petals, Cassie leaned up to whisper, “This wedding is even better because we have our natural hair colors.”
Laughing, he brushed a kiss on her shining dark copper hair. In the fortnight since their return to England, spring had arrived in full force and the air was filled with birdsong and the scent of blossoms. “You smell of roses,” he murmured.
Cassie’s Aunt Patience had stepped into the role of mother of the bride and helped with a trousseau, starting with a bronze gown that emphasized Cassie’s coloring with breathtaking richness. Grey took care of the special license. With a baby on the way, the sooner the better. Besides, he hated havi
ng to sneak around the house to spend nights with Cassie.
Lady Kiri Mackenzie was the matron of honor, and exotic dark-haired Kiri and gloriously red-haired Cassie made a pair dazzling enough to make any man swoon. Peter was Grey’s best man, and there had been some hushed female remarks about how striking the pair of them looked side by side.
Since Grey was no longer available and had zero interest in any other woman, speculative female gazes were evaluating Peter, not that it would do them any good. After Peter was accepted into Mr. Burke’s theater company, Lord and Lady Costain had resigned themselves to his choice. Now he was more interested in acting than marriage. Before the service, Peter urged Grey to be sure that he produced a male heir so his brother would never have to worry about inheriting.
Guests were lining up on the porch to offer personal best wishes, and Grey was delighted to see that two of his old classmates had made it in time for the ceremony. “Ashton! Randall! I’m so glad you’re here.”
Smiling widely, the Duke of Ashton shook Grey’s hand with both of his. “Randall and I were delayed by a broken carriage wheel, but we were determined to make it even if we had to ride the post horses. I never thought I’d see this day!”
“Nor I.” Randall, lean and blond and military, clapped a hand on Grey’s shoulder. “Frankly, I’d given you up for lost, Wyndham.”
“And good riddance, I’m sure.” Grey grinned as he took Randall’s hand. “I hear you’ve taken on a foster son who’s one of Lady Agnes’s students. How do you like fatherhood?”
Randall responded with a smile far happier than any he’d had as a boy. “I recommend it, especially if you can start with a twelve-year-old like Benjamin. That way you skip the messy stages.”