A Fierce Wind (Donet Trilogy Book 3) Read online

  With a nudge to his ribs from Cadoudal, Freddie turned to see Chouans disguised as guards climbing the stairs leading to the entrance of the palais. They moved like the real ones Freddie had observed earlier that day. Some had added mustaches to their upper lips in the fashion of many of the Blues; others had suddenly grown short-cropped beards making their transformation more dramatic. With straight backs and practiced adjustments of their muskets, they strode to the posts they were to assume, nodding under their bicorne hats to the guards on duty. Cadoudal had told him that in the dim light with their disguises mirroring the actual guards, they hoped their true identity would not be detected.

  Few words were exchanged. What Freddie heard sounded more like grunts than speech. Having been relieved, the real guards departed, showing no concern for those taking their places.

  Two of Cadoudal’s men took up their posts on either side of the entrance, while the others disappeared inside. A short time later, they reappeared with a young girl in tow, scantily clad in a thin blue dress. To anyone in the square, they might have thought her a prisoner being escorted away; however, the Chouans treated her as the precious jewel she was, one on either side of her and two following.

  Freddie, Cadoudal and the other Chouans moved from the shadows to follow surreptitiously. As soon as they were off the main street, the ones wearing the republican uniforms disappeared into the night.

  The girl’s brother, one of the Chouans who had come to the square, wrapped his sister in his coat and embraced her, tears of joy filling his eyes. He stood her away from him, examining her appearance. “You are all right?”

  The dark-haired girl nodded as tears ran down her cheeks. A smile formed on her face. “I knew you would come.”

  “I would never leave you with our enemies, Isabeau. Forgive me for not coming sooner.”

  Freddie asked one of the Chouans, “How did you convince the guards inside the prison to release her?”

  The young man leaned close to whisper. “I told them General Rossignol wanted her for the night. His men know well his twisted inclinations, but even at that, her guard expressed surprise and said, ‘The general usually prefers them a bit older’, which, Dieu merci, told me he had not yet touched her.”

  Zoé had no intention of remaining behind when Freddie left with the Chouans. Gabe had objected when she told him they would be following but, in the end, he had gone with her mumbling all the while that her uncle would not be pleased she had disobeyed M’sieur West.

  Zoé would rather face Gabe’s stern disapproval than miss being present to witness the rescue. How could she not be there if things went badly and Freddie needed her help? She didn’t accept for one moment his bravado as reflecting the true picture of things. He was brave, yes. That much he had demonstrated in Granville the night he had been shot. And he may have had a few fencing lessons, but that did not prove he could acquit himself in a fight. She had never seen him fire a musket or use his sword.

  Checking her pistol, she secured her knife at her hip and set out after them, clinging to the shadows so as not to be seen.

  As the rescue unfolded, she watched, fascinated by the precision of the Chouans replacing the guards and the quick extraction of the girl. It had all gone smoothly but still she was glad she had come. When the Chouans led the girl away, Zoé had hurried back to the inn to arrive before Freddie.

  “Did I not tell you, mademoiselle,” said Gabe, his brooding countenance reminding her he was her uncle’s man, “M’sieur West may be Anglais, but he knows what he is about.”

  “Oh, pish,” she said, using her aunt’s favorite word when presented with something she did not quite believe. “And say nothing of this to Freddie.”

  Gabe huffed in response and escorted her to the inn’s back door where they had departed an hour earlier.

  By the time Freddie opened the door to their chamber, she was slicing her apple. “Well, you look to be in one piece,” she said, her eyes roving over his body to be sure he had not encountered any soldiers on his return.

  “Hale and hearty, as promised,” he said with a grin. “Is that apple for me?”

  “It is if you want it.” She slid the plate toward him. “There is more wine, too. Come let us toast your success. You did recover the girl, oui? Your face tells me you did.”

  He nodded. “Her name is Isabeau and she is downstairs at this very moment eating a bowl of stew and charming the Chouans. A stouthearted little soul.”

  “How old is she?”

  Freddie inclined his head, seeming to ponder. “About twelve, I should think. Not a child exactly but not yet a woman.”

  Zoé tried to imagine a girl that age being seized by the republicans and confined in their filthy dungeon. “She must have been terribly frightened. Is she well?”

  “Apparently her guard developed a fondness for her and made sure she was left alone. When Cadoudal’s men allowed him to think Rossignol wanted her, he was most annoyed but there was little he could do.”

  “I see.” And she did see. The general was reputed to prefer young ones. “Perhaps her guard will be relieved when he learns she was plucked from the prison and returned to her family.”

  “Well, that’s just it, Pigeon. Her mother and father were among those killed. She has only her brother, one of Cadoudal’s men.”

  “She can hardly travel with the Chouans. Where will she go?”

  “Cadoudal suggested we take her with us to Guernsey. Her brother wants her out of Brittany. She is not safe here.”

  Zoé considered the idea. “I have smuggled children out of France before but we are not yet on our way home. She would be in danger as long as we remain in Brittany.”

  Freddie gave her a hopeful look.

  Zoé relented. “If it means her life to leave with us, how can we say no?”

  A self-satisfied smirk appeared on his handsome face. “I had a feeling you would agree, so I said we would take her. I’ve asked Gabe to see if he can find her a lad’s clothing.”

  Zoé frowned, annoyed she had proved so predictable, but at least Freddie had thought she would be kindly disposed toward the girl. “Here,” she said pouring him a glass of wine, “you can celebrate your victory.”

  He pulled out a chair and sat, taking a sip of wine before biting into a slice of apple. “We will leave before dawn. Isabeau’s brother has volunteered to set us on the path to Fougères. I cannot leave Rennes soon enough. Once Rossignol realizes he’s been outwitted by the Chouans, he will be furiously combing the city for us.”

  “Is Cadoudal worried?”

  “Nay, he’s taking his men south as we go north.”

  Zoé finished her wine, feeling fatigued to her bones. “I’m going to get some sleep.” She went to the bed and pulled down the cover, tossing one of the pillows to Freddie.

  He caught it. “Thanks.”

  She started to yank off her boots but Freddie intervened. “Allow me to act the valet.”

  “Thanks.” It felt good to let her feet breathe. In her stocking feet, she took off her coat and climbed into the bed.

  Freddie moved the small table away from the fireplace to make room for his thin pallet and added a few logs to the low-burning fire, prodding the flames to life with a poker. Snuffing the candle, he settled down on his blanket and drew his coat over his chest.

  “Thank you,” she said, pulling the cover to her chin.

  “For what?”

  Fighting a yawn, she looked over the edge of the bed to see his form silhouetted against the firelight. She lay back down and stared at the firelight flickering on the ceiling. “For returning hale and hearty.”

  In his exhausted state, Freddie should have been able to sleep, but he could not. His mind whirled with thoughts of the woman who slept a short distance away. He wanted desperately to climb into that bed with her and kiss her. That he might not be able to stop at just one kiss briefly occurred but it mattered not. He could never allow his desire for her to overcome his respect for her innocence. And
if they were to become lovers, there might be a babe. One day, he hoped she would give herself to him as his wife. But that day was not today.

  On the way back to the inn, Cadoudal had told him what to expect in Fougères. “If he still holds the town, Boisguy will prove a worthy host. He has more than two thousand men under his command. I do not know their needs but they must be substantial as more men join him each day.”

  Warmed by the fire, Freddie had finally begun to doze when Zoé let out a groan, followed by a shout of “Non!”

  Concerned Gabe and Erwan might come rushing into their room, believing her shout was directed at Freddie, he leaped up and ran to her bedside.

  Tossing and turning her head on the pillow, she fought some invisible foe. “Non, non, non!”

  He placed his hands on her shoulders and gently shook her awake. “Zoé! Wake up!”

  She opened her eyes, dazed from her dream. “Oh, Freddie you are here!” She rose on her knees and swept her hands over him as if to make sure he was really there. Though he knew she was just verifying his existence, the touch of her hands on his shirt might have been on his skin for the effect it had.

  Thinking her dream might have been caused by worry for the next day’s travel, he asked, “What is wrong? Did you dream of being harmed?”

  Staring into his eyes, she whispered. “Non, not me. Someone was after you. Oh, Freddie, it was so real.” Her whole body shook as her hands flew to her face.

  “Pigeon, it was merely a dream. We are safe in Rennes.” Overwhelmed by the desire to comfort her, he pulled her against his chest and leaned his cheek against her head. Her hair smelled of wood smoke but he didn’t mind. It was enough to be with her every day. Was he right in remaining patient, never giving her an indication of what lay in his heart? He thought so, at least for the time being. After all, war was inopportune for love. “As we are leaving in but a few hours, I suggest you try to get some sleep.”

  He made to lay her back on the pillow but she clung to him. “Don’t go, Freddie.” She slid over to the far edge of the bed, her hair strewn across the pillow. “There is room here beside me. Not much, but enough. You can sleep on top of the cover with your blanket if you like.”

  He let out a sigh. It would be torture. But how could he deny her innocent request?

  “If it will help you sleep, I’ll stay.”

  Zoé curled into the warmth of Freddie’s chest, tucking her head under his chin. Her heart still raced as she tried to recall the dream, certain it was some kind of omen. The vague images quickly faded yet the horror of them persisted. Someone had dragged Freddie away and she had been helpless to save him. Could it have been brought on by her fear when he’d gone to rescue the girl? That might be so but, still, it had been uncommonly real. And frightening.

  Freddie’s familiar scent and his arm wrapped around her were a balm to her soul, the steady beat of his heart a reminder of his strength. It was like coming home after a long voyage, like smelling the sea breeze on Guernsey after the stale air of Paris, like being tethered to an anchor in rough seas. Freddie, she realized, was her home port.

  More than a friend and dearer to her after the night he’d been shot coming to her rescue in Granville, she couldn’t imagine her life without her friend.

  Bravely, she laid her hand on his chest and had the sudden urge to raise her head and ask him to kiss her.

  He would think her a fool. They were cousins, after all, and he’d known her for a decade.

  Lulled by the slow beating of his heart, Zoé let go of her wild imaginings and began to drift back to sleep, comforted by the presence of the one man who had never hinted of any interest in her beyond friendship. She knew him to be a man of honor, a man she could trust even if he weren’t good with a sword.

  She was nearly asleep when he pressed a kiss to the top of her head, telling her he was awake. “Get some sleep, Pigeon.”

  Nestling into his chest, she pondered the cause of his wakefulness. Did it speak of his worry for the morrow when he must lead them to Fougères without the Chouans to guide them?

  Chapter 8

  The next morning as the first rays of dawn slipped in through the wooden shutters, Freddie rose, thinking of the long day ahead. Somehow he would find his way through the unknown forest.

  He pulled on his boots while watching Zoé sleep, her mahogany hair flowing out behind her on the pillow and her cheeks rosy with the same blush as her lips.

  He wanted to crawl back into that bed with her but not for sleep.

  Having held her through what had remained of the night, he’d had little rest. Even with the bedcover and their clothing between them, she had curled against him, her breasts pressing against his side, stirring his body to attention.

  Aye, torture, indeed.

  He had struggled mightily against the overwhelming desire to initiate her in the ways of love. Having been patient for so long, he could wait a bit longer. Besides, he didn’t know if she would want him in the way he wanted her.

  A muffled sound from the bed drew his attention. She had turned onto her back. “I trust you are rising sometime this morning, Pigeon.”

  She let out a dull moan. Her eyes slowly opened and she turned her head to look at him. “You are dressed.”

  “As I was when I went to bed, silly goose. Best hurry if we are to arrive in Fougères in time to dine with Aimé du Boisguy.” Freddie put on his coat. “I will meet you in the common room.”

  She was just sitting up as he reached the door, her long hair tousled, a temptress rising from her mussed bed like Venus rising from the sea.

  With a single glance back, he opened the door and stepped out, closing it behind him. A man could only stand so much.

  Several minutes later, surrounded by Chouans in the common room, Freddie introduced Zoé to Isabeau and her brother. From the warm smile Zoé directed at the girl, she seemed pleased to have Giles’ sister included in their travel. Because he was a Breton and happy to see one of his own escape France, Erwan had been enthusiastic at the idea of Isabeau joining them. Gabe had merely shrugged when asked his view, but then he was along to guard Zoé. While Freddie worried for Isabeau’s safety, he couldn’t bear to tell Giles no having seen the fear in his eyes for his young sister.

  Cadoudal had advised Freddie that Fougères could be reached in a day, but it would mean a very long day. “At least you’ll have many hours of daylight.”

  Giles knelt in front of his sister, taking her small hands in his. “Mademoiselle Donet will take good care of you, mon petit chat. Do as she says.”

  Tears flowed down Isabeau’s cheeks as she nodded, her dark eyes fixed on her brother. The men in the tavern quieted at the touching scene. Isabeau was reed-thin and tall for her age but her modest peasant’s clothing, now that of a lad’s, made her appear younger than her twelve years.

  Freddie studied the girl’s face. She was trying to be strong for her brother but the tears flowing down her cheeks made clear she was failing.

  In a halting voice, Isabeau said, “I… I have only just got you back.”

  Giles placed his hands on her shoulders. “I need to know you are safe, Isabeau, somewhere far from Brittany. My friends here will take you to their home on the Isle of Guernsey.”

  Isabeau regarded Freddie with a look of suspicion. “But he is Anglais.”

  “Oui, and one of us,” said her brother, rising. “I’m told Guernsey is a wondrous place. You will love it and it is there I will come for you.”

  Freddie gave the girl a reassuring smile. He hoped it would be as Giles predicted. None of them knew from one day to the next if they would live or die. Too easily, they could join the victims of the republicans’ muskets or the guillotines that stood in every major town.

  When their goodbyes had been said, Cadoudal handed Freddie a message for Boisguy. “This will vouch for you.”

  Freddie tucked the folded parchment into his waistcoat and offered his hand to the Chouan chief, thanking him for his help.


  Giles opened the door of the inn and led Freddie and his companions out into the misting rain. He was glad for the wide-brimmed hat that kept the drizzle off his face. As an Englishman, he should be used to such weather, but his time on Guernsey had spoiled him. He now preferred sun.

  “I will show you the road leading to Fougères,” offered Giles. “Then I must leave you. You will know you have arrived when you see the huge stone fortress rising above the town. It is Boisguy’s headquarters and where many of his men may be found. Should you want to stop for the night before you reach Fougères, there is a mill house just outside of Combourtillé where you can stay. The miller is a friend of Boisguy and has often been of assistance to the Chouans. He will know the owl’s cry.” Giles handed Freddie a drawing. “I have made this to help you.”

  Zoé peered around Freddie and they studied the map together. He resisted the urge to wrap his arm around her shoulder and draw her close. Instead, he concentrated on the simple sketch. The way was clear enough, marked with a few landmarks and small towns.

  “This is most helpful,” said Freddie.

  Giles kissed his sister on the cheek. This time she did not cry but her wrinkled brow betrayed her anxiety.

  Turning to Freddie, Giles said, “There are pockets of republican soldiers between here and Fougères. Beware the sham Chouans who are really Rossignol’s men. They will be few and will not know the owl’s cry. None of them would dare wear a rosary.”

  Freddie thanked him for his advice. “I won’t forget.”

  At the edge of the city, Giles glanced once at his sister as if to memorize her face and then disappeared into the trees.

  “You will see him again,” said Zoé, taking Isabeau’s hand as they followed Freddie onto the dirt road leading north. She hoped she spoke the truth.

  Isabeau returned her a doubtful look.

  Zoé understood the girl’s plight. She had lost her parents to the revolution and now she believed she was losing her brother. But Zoé could not allow her to focus on her loss. After all, Zoé had once been where Isabeau was. “You are a Breton, are you not, raised in the Church?”