They hadn't even climbed out of bed, and already he was impressed by the advantages of working with an experienced agent. "Durand hates me and wants me dead, or he wouldn't have gone to such lengths to lure me within his reach. If at all possible, he'll want to be at Castle Durand, but he can't be sure when or even if I'm coming, and surely he has responsibilities in Paris. So my guess is that he's hired a number of men to guard the castle, and they'll have orders to capture rather than kill me if possible. Does that make sense to you?"

"Yes, but he might be in residence since he can deduce when you're most likely to show up." She frowned. "He might be able to convince his superiors that he's investigating a ring of traitors near Castle Durand and must be based there so he can find them all."

Grey hoped so. He wanted the b.a.s.t.a.r.d to be at Castle Durand so Grey could kill him with his bare hands. Which wasn't likely since all the advantages were on Durand's side, but a man could dream. Voicing his worst fear, he said, "Do you think that Durand has already killed Pere Laurent and the Boyers?"

"It's certainly possible," Ca.s.sie said, her voice grave. "But I think it unlikely. France is a nation of laws, and since the revolution, many of those laws are designed to protect the weak from the strong."

When Grey snorted, Ca.s.sie said, "Don't laugh. The Code Napoleon is the only thing I give the emperor credit for. Before the revolution, the country was an impossible patchwork of feudal and church laws, with mandated privileges for the n.o.bility and the clergy. The Code Napoleon specifically forbids privileges based on birth."

"Durand's behavior has been very close to the edge, hasn't it? He may not have a t.i.tle, but many of his actions are not unlike those of his aristocratic ancestors."

"Exactly. He's been able to get away with a private dungeon within the walls of his castle, particularly since he was holding a priest and an Englishman. But murdering a respected local property owner and his family would get him into serious trouble." Ca.s.sie's brow furrowed as she thought. "Most likely he's had Pere Laurent charged with treason and is investigating the Boyers as possible traitors. That allows him to hold them for some time while he investigates. He may release them if he has you."

"Dear G.o.d, I hope so." Grey's words were a real prayer. "If you're right, so far he hasn't really done anything to get himself into serious trouble with his superiors. As you say, the revolution always hated priests and the power of the church, and no one would question killing an English spy. So the Boyers may be safe."

Ca.s.sie caught his gaze and said with icy precision, "You will not, under any circ.u.mstances, offer yourself to Durand in exchange for their freedom. I will not allow you to do that."

Grey's eyes narrowed in response. "Do you think you could stop me?"

"It would be an interesting battle, wouldn't it?" she said softly. "Let's hope it doesn't come to that."

Grey agreed. The last thing he wanted was to be at odds with Ca.s.sie. Changing the subject, he said, "Your marching into Castle Durand when everyone was ill was a miraculous fluke. We won't be so lucky again. You probably had a better look at the castle walls than I did. Will I be able to scale them with the right equipment?"

"We both can, and will. We'll need to take dark garments to help conceal us if we go over the walls." Ca.s.sie gazed at the ceiling as she thought. "Is it a fair a.s.sumption that prisoners would be put in the dungeons where you and Pere Laurent were held?"

"I think so. They're impossible to escape without outside help."

"As I recall, the cells had slit windows high up on the wall. Too high and narrow for anyone to escape that way, but still, windows. Do you know where they opened?"

"On a quiet back courtyard between the castle and the stables, I think. There was very little noise or traffic. The windows are just above ground level. Occasionally castle maids would come by and chat a bit, so I don't think the courtyard was used much."

She laughed. "You were able to carry on flirtations even in durance vile?"

He thought of the curious girls who would sometimes stop by and exchange a few words. "I was so hungry for people that I'd have welcomed any voice. On some occasions, if I was really fortunate, a maid might toss down an apple. Heaven."

Her amus.e.m.e.nt vanished. "It's amazing that you came through such an ordeal as well as you did."

"If not for Pere Laurent, I would have been fit only for Bedlam," he said, equally sober. "I can't bear to think of him dying back in Durand's dungeon."

"We'll do our best to see that doesn't happen." She bit her lip in a way he found very distracting. His body must be recovering from their pa.s.sionate encounter.

Her mind still on business, she said, "We must do some careful scouting around the castle. Local help will be invaluable if we can find it."

"That might be difficult to find."

"We can start at the Boyer farm. If there's anyone there, they might have information about the Boyers and Castle Durand."

"More likely Durand gave the farm to some crony," Grey said pessimistically. "If we ask for help, we'll be arrested as spies."

"Remember what I said about France being a nation of laws," she said. "If Durand confiscated the property and the Boyers have yet to be charged with any crime, someone in the community would go to a magistrate and complain."

"So he would probably not take over the property himself. Might the farm be sitting vacant?"

Ca.s.sie shook her head. "A farm can't be neglected, especially not in springtime. There is a married daughter. My best guess is that she has returned to the farm with her husband to take care of the animals and the planting. She's probably praying that her parents will be released. If they aren't, or they're executed, presumably she is the heir. If we can find her, she'll be a source of information and aid."

"I hope you're right. We're making a lot of a.s.sumptions."

She smiled wryly. "Call them deductions. It sounds better."

He began stroking her under the blanket. Discussions in bed had much to commend them. He stroked her nipple with his thumb and she caught her breath. "We need an army," he muttered. "One with artillery."

"I was thinking along those lines myself." Ca.s.sie's hand moved to his thigh.

"What?" He pushed himself up on one elbow and stared down at her. "I'm the one who is supposed to be mad here!"

"Whatever gave you a foolish notion like that?" She laughed with wicked amus.e.m.e.nt. "We're both mad to attempt this, so let's not waste a moment of madness." She looped her hands around his neck and pulled him down for a kiss.

In mere moments, sanity was forgotten.

Chapter 43.

Against the night sky, Castle Durand loomed stark and impregnable, looking much as it must have in the fifteenth century. Ca.s.sie and Grey, dressed in black and with faces mostly covered with dark scarves, had come to scout.

The journey to France had gone so smoothly that Ca.s.sie found herself superst.i.tiously expecting disaster to strike. Grey had made it across the channel in rough seas without getting ill, though he was a little green when they disembarked. Their guise as a drab, humorless couple had been very effective. They were never challenged, and few people wanted to talk to Monsieur and Madame Harel.

But the easy part of the journey was over. The previous night they'd stopped in a sizable town a dozen miles from St. Just du Sarthe, the village below Castle Durand. Grey bought st.u.r.dy riding horses while Ca.s.sie played the role of submissive wife.

After riding toward the village as the conventional Harels, they'd found an abandoned barn nearby and well off the road. Silently they'd settled the horses and changed into the dark clothing of thieves and burglars. It was a sign of Grey's tension that he hadn't made a single suggestive remark about Ca.s.sie's trousers.

From the barn, it was only half an hour's hike through the woods up to the castle. The night was raw and windy, with clouds scudding across a waning moon. She sensed that Grey was winding tighter and tighter, like a violin string. She couldn't even imagine what it felt like to return to the place where he'd endured ten years of imprisonment.

When the castle came into sight, they lingered in the shadowed woods to study it. Unlike during Ca.s.sie's first visit, the gates were closed and there was a guard in the small gatehouse. The crenellated walls must have been at least twenty feet tall. They surrounded the square castle grounds, with a cleared strip perhaps thirty feet wide at the base.

On top of each corner was a guard turret. Dim glows from braziers showed they were occupied. The guards were probably bored, but they had clear views of the walls, should anyone attempt to climb into the castle.

On the shadowed back wall opposite the main gates, they found a small postern gate. Ca.s.sie investigated, using a couple of thin metal picks on the lock. It seemed to be rusted shut. Opening the door would be neither easy nor quiet.

To her left, Grey was studying the stone wall itself, running his hands over the surface to check the condition. He found a toehold and began to climb the wall by touch. He was halfway up when Ca.s.sie gave a small, foxlike yip to catch his attention.

He halted. After a half-dozen heartbeats, he quietly dropped to the soft ground. Ca.s.sie touched his arm and gestured for them to withdraw to the woods on the other side of the cleared zone.

When they were safely back in the shadows, she asked quietly, "Are you all right?"

"I wanted to keep climbing." He stared at the ma.s.sive bulk of the wall. Voice thick with emotion, he said, "I wanted to get inside and kill Durand with my bare hands and then blow the whole place to b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l."

She locked a hand around his wrist, her grip hard. "Understandable. But you must control yourself when the time comes to go in! If you run berserk, you risk everything. Everyone."

He drew a shuddering breath. "I know you're right. I swear I'll not do anything that will endanger you, Pere Laurent, or his family."

She released his wrist, hoping he'd be able to keep his vow. He was far more stable than when he first escaped the dungeon, but an extreme situation could kick him over the edge again. Focusing on the business at hand, she said, "Tell me about the wall. It looked like you were climbing easily."

"The mortar between the stones is crumbling in many places. It wasn't hard to climb even in the dark. What about the postern?"

"The door is heavy and hard to move and the lock is rusted shut. The wall might be a better way to get in without being noticed. But we'll need to blast the postern open to get our people out."

He nodded. "We should go around the castle once more."

Agreeing, Ca.s.sie set out and he followed her. Tonight, scouting. Tomorrow they would seek a.s.sistance.

After a good night's sleep in the old barn, they dressed as the conservative Harels and set off for the Boyer farm. The trip by horseback was faster than driving a cart through a blizzard, and the road up to the farm was much prettier now that it wasn't scoured by blizzard winds and snow.

Ca.s.sie prayed silently they'd find the Boyers' married daughter at the farm. She could be a valuable resource. Without her, their odds would become even worse.

No one was visible in the farmyard, but smoke trickled from the kitchen chimney. The house was not empty.

As aware of the stakes as Ca.s.sie, Grey swung from his horse, tossing her the reins. As the traditional Harels, Grey took the lead in everything, while Ca.s.sie rode sidesaddle and kept her eyes cast demurely down.

Grey knocked on the door. Several dogs began barking crazily inside. They sounded as if they were slavering to get out and rip the stranger to shreds. The horses twitched nervously but Grey stood his ground.

A few moments pa.s.sed quietly except for the barking dogs. Then a small window at head height opened and a woman asked suspiciously, "What do you want?"

Ca.s.sie couldn't see the speaker, but the voice was young. Grey said peaceably, "I'm an old friend of Monsieur and Madame Boyer and was near. Are they home?"

"No," was the snapped response. "Go away!"

Grey held the window open when she tried to close it. "What about Pere Laurent? Is he still here?"

"Who are you?" This time, the voice sounded frightened.

Judging it was time to be honest, Grey replied, "I am Monsieur Sommers. I was your great-uncle's companion in adversity."

The young woman sucked in her breath. "The Englishman?"

"The same. Are you the Boyers' married daughter?"

"Yes, I'm Jeanne Duval." The voice was uncertain. "Why are you here?"

"To free your family," Grey said softly. "Can you help?" Another long pause. Then a key sc.r.a.ped in the lock and the door swung inward. Jeanne Duval couldn't be more than twenty, and her bright brown hair and hazel eyes would be pretty if not for her worried expression. She had gathered the dogs around her as if they were a weapon ready to strike.

Grey bowed with aristocratic elegance. "It's my pleasure to meet you, Madame Duval. I spent only a few days here with your great-uncle, but it was long enough to develop the highest esteem for your parents."

Tears sprang into her eyes. "Do you really think you can free them?"

"I don't know, but I will certainly do my best." He gestured toward Ca.s.sie. "Allow me to introduce Madame Renard. It was she who freed Pere Laurent and me. May we come in?"

Jeanne fidgeted with the edge of her ap.r.o.n. "Why do you want to talk?"

"If we are to have any chance of freeing your family, we need as much information about their captivity as possible," Grey said patiently.

Jeanne gave a jerky nod. "Madame Renard can come in while you take the horses to the barn. I'll call my husband to join us."

Grey offered Ca.s.sie his hand to dismount from her horse, then led their mounts off to the stable. Jeanne rang a sizable bell that hung by the door, using three sets of three rings each. Ca.s.sie was quite sure the bell hadn't been there on their earlier visit. Another sign of how stressed the household was.

They moved into the kitchen. The furnishings and broad fireplace were familiar, but the house was too quiet, no longer bustling with a whole family. As Jeanne shooed the now well-behaved dogs into the backyard, Ca.s.sie noticed that the young woman's crisp white ap.r.o.n covered the gentle curve of midpregnancy.

"You are with child?" she said sympathetically. "How exhausting on top of the worry for your family!"

Jeanne promptly burst into tears. Alarmed, Ca.s.sie guided her to a chair by the fire. A blanket was folded on a bench, so she shook it out and tucked it around the girl. "Would you like something? A gla.s.s of water?"

Jeanne said in a barely audible whisper, "I want my mother."

Collecting herself, she produced a handkerchief, blotted her eyes, and blew her nose. "I'm sorry, everything makes me cry now. It was Pere Laurent who first told me I was with child. I wasn't sure myself, but when I came to visit my parents and found him here, he took one look at my face, smiled, and said that soon he would become a great-great-uncle." More tears appeared.

"He can see that?" Ca.s.sie said with surprise.

"Oh, yes, he was famous for it. When he had a parish, young wives would come from miles around to see if he could confirm their hopes. I never heard him to be wrong, either." She put a protective hand over the modest curve of her belly. "He thinks I shall bear a son, though he isn't so accurate predicting whether it will be a boy or a girl."

Ca.s.sie had heard of midwives who were very good at identifying pregnancies. She supposed that a wise and observant old priest could have similar talents.

A tall, broad young man with dark hair and a missing left hand swung into the kitchen, his expression ready for trouble. "Jeanne!"

He moved behind her and put his right hand on her shoulder. "Is this female upsetting you?" Jeanne's husband wasn't much older than she, but he looked capable as well as protective. The missing hand explained why he wasn't in the army.

Jeanne laid a hand over his on her shoulder, but before she could reply, Grey arrived. Ca.s.sie studied him, thinking how very good he looked, even with the narrow moustache. He was still lean but he no longer looked bony, and he had an air of authority that was real, not the officiousness of Monsieur Harel.

"It's all right, Pierre," Jeanne a.s.sured him. "This fellow says he's the Englishman who was imprisoned beside Pere Laurent, and that he's come to free my family."

"Madame Boyer said the Englishman had golden hair," Pierre said suspiciously.

"I dyed my hair brown to be less conspicuous." Grey smiled a little. "There are parts of my body where the natural hair color is visible, but we'll have to withdraw to another room so I can show you without offending the ladies."

Pierre flushed. "Say something in English," he ordered.

Not missing a beat, Grey switched to English and said, "Pere Laurent is the wisest, kindest man I have ever known. I would not have survived ten years in a dungeon if not for him. I needed him far more than he needed me."

Pierre recognized the sound of English even if he didn't speak it, so he gave a short nod. "What makes you think you can free Jeanne's family from Castle Durand? The castle alone is difficult, and Durand has brought in guards for protection."

Speaking for the first time, Ca.s.sie said, "We saw the guards last night when we scouted the castle. It would be useful to know how many there are."

Pierre's wary gaze moved to her. "Who are you?"