Page 5 of The Agent and the Outlaw
The word was a whispered command coming from somewhere just above my head. I looked up and nearly shrieked. My captor was perched on a limb in the large oak directly atop me, staring murderously at the group of soldiers.Merde.How long had he been there?
Sullenly accepting that mygreatescape had been anything but, I narrowed my eyes.
“Don’twhat?” I hissed back.
“Move.”
“Ha!” I retorted. “Forgive me if I’m a bit loath to take your advice. You did, after all, bludgeon and abscond with me. I’m beginning to doubt your intentions to ensure my safety.”
He didn’t acknowledge my response, but I knew he’d heard. I could see the muscles work in his jaw as if he were gritting his teeth. My former husband, Philippe, used to do the same thing when he would tire of my cheek. I considered it one of my greatest virtues, to be so infuriating to the simpler sex.
To prove my utter unwillingness to listen to the crossbow-wielding madman, I snaked forward through the undergrowth to hide behind yet another bush. I could practically feel the fury emanating from the oak tree behind me. From this better angle, I could hear the soldiers more clearly.
They were speaking French! Two of them had thick foreign accents—Prussian, I guessed. The other three were clearly Parisian.But why the burgundy uniforms?
“We must turn back. We won’t be able to find him now. It’s too late,” one of the Prussians was saying.
“We can’t just leave! We know he’s in the area. Fan out,” said another.
“We won’t find him here,” said the tallest Parisian. “These woods stretch for hundreds of acres, and he’s had more training than all of us.”
“But we have the advantage,” grinned the first Prussian.
I probably would have heard more, but at that moment, I leaned abittoo far forward and a twig snapped beneath my palm. I froze, praying the soldiers hadn’t heard.
They had.
Within seconds, the soldiers were upon me.
The tall Parisian hauled me up by the back of my toga, lifting me well off the ground. His anger at uncovering a possible spy dissolved into guffaws of mirth as the group took in my admittedly bizarre ensemble.
“Thank heavens!” I enthused, pitching my voice low and hoping my disguise was still intact enough to fool them. “Gentlemen, you have certainly saved my life. I was traveling with my master on our way home from the masquerade at Versailles when we were set upon by highwaymen! They tied me up, tossed me out of the carriage, and rode away with my master to ransom him. I must get back to Versailles to get help. Can you aid me?”
The outrageousness of the lie seemed to fit with my strange dress. I could see the wheels turning in the Parisian’s head.
“Who’s your master, boy?”
“TheComte de Brionne.”
Oh, Charlotte, you ninny.The name—my name—had slipped out. Now, I had to work with it. Something like recognition flashed in the Parisian’s eyes, and I tried to mask my panic.
“I thought theComte de Brionnewas dead,” he said, but he didn’t sound certain.
“Of course not!” I argued with mock affront. “I’ve been serving the Brionne family for several years now—I think I would have noticed such a thing, Monsieur.”
The Parisian set me on my feet. His cold gaze assessed me.
“Have you seen anyone else come through here? Anyone else on the road?”
It was my chance to rid myself of the crossbow-wielding madman, but something unknowable prevented me from doing so. I shrugged.
“Non, Monsieur.I’ve been too terrified to come out from behind the bushes to see anyone else. You fine gentlemen are the only men that I’ve come across. Now, please, will you help me? Do you have horses? Or perhaps you can tell me where the nearest town is?”
“The nearest town is about three miles down the road,” he said with an unnerving smile. “But I’m afraid you won’t make it there.”
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ANTOINE
