Chapter Twenty

Jules St. Owen sat at a small corner table in the Café de Valois, sipping a strong cup of coffee. If he leaned forward in his chair, he could see the door leading in from the street. He stiffened then came to his feet when he caught sight of the slender cloaked figure who had just come into the café.

Making his way purposefully toward her, he took her arm and led her back to the table. “I was beginning to worry.” Removing her wrap, he draped it over the back of her chair.

“I took the long way getting here.” She let him seat her, a slender hand shoving wisps of dark auburn hair back under her bonnet. “I wanted to be sure I wasn’t being followed.”

“Très bien. I am thankful for your good judgment.” He ordered her a cup of thick black coffee, and the waiter brought it, along with some steaming milk.

“Is everything ready?” She was gowned in a light blue figured-muslin day dress, simple and modest, her breasts a tantalizing curve beneath the fabric, her eyes bright and searching. She looked lovely as always, but he couldn’t help noticing the paleness of her skin.

“All the preparations are in place for our departure, as well as for the theft of the documents. That, I intend to see to personally … as soon as you tell me where they are.”

“I told you before, Jules, I’m not telling you until that night. I intend to go with you, and that is the only way I can ensure you will take me.”

He swore a muttered oath beneath his breath. “I am sorry, chérie, it is far too dangerous. I hoped by now you would have come to your senses.”

“Just being here is dangerous. I have to go along, Jules. I won’t have it any other way.”

“And just how are we supposed to get you out of the house?”

“I’m leaving that up to you. I know you’ll think of something.” She was beautiful and determined. He realized he could not thwart her.

“All right. It seems that you have left me no choice.” She smiled at the victory she had won, and Jules felt a tightening in his chest. He sighed. “I will see that your husband is called away, then you can leave unnoticed and meet me a few blocks from the house.”

“When?”

“Thursday night. We only have until Friday to leave if we mean to reach Le Havre in time to catch the boat.”

She chewed her soft bottom lip, and he forced down a swell of desire for her. He had never lacked for women. Most of the ones he wanted were more than willing to share his bed. Not this one. Alexa felt only friendship for him. He wondered if her husband appreciated her strength and determination anywhere nearly as much as he did.

“About the boat…” she said softly, glancing nervously down at the table. “I haven’t changed my mind, Jules, I’m still not going with you.”

“But I thought—”

“I know what you thought. For a time even I wasn’t sure. But the truth is, I have to stay.”

“You can’t. Not once the plans have been stolen. They’re bound to be suspicious. Mon Dieu, you saw the papers in the general’s desk.”

“I have to stay with my husband.” Her eyes came up to his face and he caught the shimmer of tears. “I love him, Jules. I love him and I’m not going to leave him.” She blinked hard several times and forced the wetness away. “Besides, if we’re careful, they might not discover the documents are missing for weeks. By then, Damien and I will be safely back home.”

“You obviously still have your doubts or you wouldn’t even be here. What will happen to you if you’re wrong?”

“Until we hear from Fieldhurst, there’s no way to be completely certain of anything. I’m not willing to risk the lives of the people of my country because I’m in love with him, but I believe he cares for me. I believe he will protect me. My husband will see I get home … even if he can’t come with me.”

Jules started to argue, but the stubborn look on her face told him not to. Mon Dieu, but the woman had courage. And in her own way, loyalty to the man she loved. Still, he could hardly let her remain. He would bide his time, get hold of the papers—if indeed they were there, then worry about convincing her to leave.

He reached for her hand across the table, felt her soft warm skin, and gave her fingers a reassuring squeeze.

“All right, we will do this as you wish. I will leave a message at the Hotel Marboeuf with the final instructions. Thursday night we will get the plans.”

“Thank you, Jules.”

He brought her fingers to his lips. “Avec plaisir, chérie. Now let us pray that nothing goes wrong.”

*   *   *

Damien stood inside the room at the rear of the carriage house, the only place he felt safe from being overheard. Claude-Louis stood beside him. Jean-Paul’s big white bird flapped its wings and cawed, accepting the treat Damien shoved through the bars of the cage.

“Then everything is set,” he said, glancing past the cage to his friend.

“It is all arranged as you requested. On the evening of Monday next, the two of you will dress formally, then leave the house as if you were going to the Opéra. I will meet you at the corner with a carriage and clothing for the journey from the city. Your wife will go with me, and you will go after the plans.”

Damien nodded.

“There will be a man waiting outside M’sieur Sallier’s shipbuilding office. His name is Charles Trepagnier. He is a good man and one you can trust. He will be there to help you.”

“Hopefully I won’t need him, but it’s good to know there’ll be someone else there.”

“Once you have the plans, you will meet us north of the city and be on your way out of town.”

“And the boat?”

“Will be waiting four days hence, south of Boulogne. Make it safely that far, and you will soon be home.”

Damien clasped his friend’s shoulder. “Thank you, mon ami, you have always been a faithful friend.”

“You have not said what you will do should the plans not be there.”

“If they’re not there, we’ll leave without them. At least we know what Napoleon is up to, and I can’t risk keeping Alexa here any longer. Things have already gotten too far out of hand.”

“I am glad to hear it. I had begun to worry for your safety.”

“Just take care of yourself and that wife and boy of yours.”

“You may rely on it. And Damien—as I have been a friend to you, you have also been a very good friend to me.”

“I won’t forget you—none of you—especially Jean-Paul. Tell him that for me, will you? Tell him if he should ever wish to come to England…”

“I will tell him.”

Once more Damien nodded. There was nothing else to be said. Tonight he would tell Alexa. After supper they would take the carriage and go for a walk by the Seine, where they could speak in private. She was bound to rest easier, knowing things were in order and that they would soon be leaving.

He would rest easier.

The danger of discovery grew stronger every day. Alexa’s presence had triggered it, as had his feelings for her, though he had done his best to disguise them. Going after the documents would heighten the risk, but too much was at stake for him not to chance it. If anything happened to him, if he did not make it to the rendezvous point, Claude-Louis would see Alexa to safety. He would get her to the boat and be certain that she reached her home.

He could count on Claude-Louie.

He just prayed that all would go well and he would be leaving on the boat along with her.

*   *   *

On Thursday night Alexa ordered a special meal prepared, an added touch to set the scene of a comfortable evening at home. And in truth, she wanted these few hours with her husband.

She leaned over and lit a taper, wanting everything to be perfect, strangely needing to breach the wall, if only for one night. They wouldn’t have much time. She trusted that Jules’s plan would work as he had explained in his note, that a messenger would arrive around nine o’clock with an urgent summons for her husband.

A number of officers of the grenadiers were being briefed on upcoming troop movements. It was a simple matter, Jules said, to have the major’s name included on the roster of those men ordered to attend.

And it would give him the perfect alibi, should something go wrong at the shipbuilder’s office, or the theft be discovered before she and Damien had time to leave the city.

She felt better knowing that whatever occurred this eve, she was not putting him in danger.

She straightened a crisp white linen napkin beside his plate, the table exquisite with china and crystal and bouquets of lovely fresh flowers. The chef was serving côte de veau belle des bois, veal chops with creamed wild mushrooms, though Alexa was too nervous to eat.

She turned when she heard his approach, her pulse picking up just to see him walking toward her so incredibly tall and handsome.

“Mon Dieu…” he said on a slow breath of air, his dark gaze running the length of her. The rough-smooth cadence of his voice made her heart throb painfully. “How could I have forgotten in such a short time just how lovely you are.”

Alexa felt the warmth seeping into her cheeks. “I hoped that you would like it.” She had chosen a sapphire silk gown with a gossamer underskirt. It was daringly low, revealing the rounded swell of her breasts, and split up the side to display a tantalizing portion of her leg.

“C’est extraordinaire. But far better still, I like what is in it.”

The rose in her cheeks grew more pronounced. She had chosen the gown on purpose. She wanted to see him look at her the way he used to, with desire burning hotly in his eyes, his face dark and seething with hunger for her. Whatever happened this night, she wanted to see that look one more time.

She saw that it was there even now, scorching in its intensity, firing her blood and making her heart beat wildly. Blue eyes blazing, the skin across his high cheekbones taut and his hard mouth curving sensuously, he narrowed the distance between them, long muscles bunching in his thighs as he moved. He reached her side and slid an arm around her waist, catching her hard against him, his mouth coming down over hers.

The kiss he gave her sizzled with fiery heat, firm lips slanting over soft; plundering, relentless, determinedly possessive.

“I’ve missed you,” he said, his voice thick and husky. “I shouldn’t have waited. I should have come to you, made love to you, made you want me the way I want you.”

“Damien…” Another searing kiss, this one so thorough her knees nearly buckled beneath her. She was clinging to his shoulders, accepting the thrust of his tongue, melting as his hands found her breasts. She could feel the bands of muscle across his chest, feel the hot rigid thickness of his shaft as he pressed himself against her.

“I want you,” he said. “I need you, Alexa.”

She made a soft sound in her throat. For a moment she thought he might take her right there, lift her skirts and drive himself inside her as he had done that night in the library. Heat roared through her at the thought, but instead he broke away.

A seductive smile curved his lips. “Perhaps your lovely supper should wait.”

“I-It would hardly be fair,” she said breathlessly, though the protest was a weak one. “Chef Masson has worked on this meal all day.”

“We could make it up to him. I’m sure we can think of a way.”

She wanted to say yes. Dear God, she wanted him so badly. It occurred to her suddenly that she should have done this sooner, that he had been waiting for her, letting her set the pace. He had told her he loved her, and she’d said nothing in return. She had left him feeling uncertain, left him vulnerable and unsure.

He smiled at her before she could speak. “Of course, waiting has its benefits too. I’ve discovered that certain … appetites are enhanced by a generous amount of patience.” He nibbled the side of her neck. “It would give me time to think of a new way to seduce you.” A wicked black brow arched up. “Or perhaps we’ll pretend we are once more in the library.”

Color infused her cheeks. She had seen him seductive before, but never quite so playful. It was relief, she saw, the knowledge that she still desired him. Dear God, how could he have doubted it? It made her heart twist painfully, made her want to ignore the plans she had made and let him carry her back upstairs, make love to her for hours on end.

“Surely a slight delay would be no problem,” she whispered, rising on tiptoe to kiss him, sliding her arms once more around his neck.

He gave her a devilish smile and eased himself away. “Now that I think on it, I believe your plan is better. We’ll take it slow and easy. All through dinner I want you to imagine exactly what I’m going to do.”

A shiver of desire rippled across her skin. Time was limited. She wanted to forget the meal, make love instead, but the moment had passed and it was too late now to change things.

Damien seated her in a high-backed chair, then sat down himself, smiling with eyes full of tenderness. The hunger remained, but it was tempered with some other emotion she could not read. She found herself praying it was love. That he had told her the truth the night they had walked beside the Seine.

“Thank you,” he said, leaning toward her, reaching out to clasp her hand.

“For what?”

“Coming back to me.”

Her heart clenched. Had she really gone away from him? But she knew in truth that she had. Just as he had gone away from her.

Perhaps they had both been afraid.

He lifted his wineglass, his gaze still resting on her face. “To us,” he said.

“To us,” she repeated, her heart swelling with love for him, and a rising tide of hope for the future. Yet the night had only begun. Danger lay ahead, and she was no longer sure she had made the right decision. Was it too late to call off her meeting with Jules? Was there a way to reach him?

She was growing more anxious by the moment. She reached for her wineglass, took a nerve-calming sip—then a hard knock sounded at the door. Frantically, she glanced at the tall grandfather clock against the wall. It was only seven-thirty.

“Pardon, M’sieur Falon.” Pierre Lindet, the short, dark-haired butler stood at the dining room door. “There is a messenger here from General Moreau. Your presence is required in the general’s private quarters.”

Damien stiffened. He was worried, she saw, and suddenly she was worried too.

“Gen-General Moreau wishes to see you?” Surely the man had been sent by Jules. Just a small change in the way they had worked things out. Surely there was nothing to be afraid of.

“I’m certain it’s only routine. Information he needs or an opinion on something involving British movements.”

“Yes … I am certain it is.” Still, she was frightened.

Jules had said nothing about Moreau. It would merely be a briefing, officers only, he said. He had never mentioned Moreau. She came up out of her chair and moved with Damien into the entry. “How long do you think you’ll be gone?”

“It’s hard to say. Probably not too long.” But he didn’t look all that certain. He turned his attention to the thin-faced corporal who had brought him the message. “It will take a moment for me to change into my uniform.”

“There is no need, Major Falon,” the soldier said. “The general sends his apologies for requesting a meeting so late.”

Damien relaxed a little and turned to take his cloak from Pierre. He swirled it around his broad shoulders. Flashing her a dazzling white smile, he bent his head and kissed her, a searing, blazing, fiercely possessive kiss that left them both trembling.

He was gone before she realized his smile had been far too bright. It was the sort of mistake he seldom made, and it only made her worry all the more.

Still, there wasn’t time to ponder fears that might be groundless. For the present, she had to assume that things were progressing as planned, that Jules would be waiting and all would go well.

Determined to keep appearances normal, she ordered the rest of her dinner sent up to her room, but didn’t bother pretending to eat it. Marie Claire helped her undress and pull on a night rail, then she paced the floor until the hour reached half past ten.

Dressing quickly in a simple dark brown bombazine dress, she cloaked herself in black, opened the door and scanned the hall for servants. Seeing no one about, she made her way quietly down the back stairs and out the door leading to the carriage house. Checking to be sure she wasn’t followed, careful to stay in the shadows, she walked the two blocks down the Avenue Gabriel to the rendezvous point that she had set with Jules.

She sighed with relief when she saw him striding toward her. His face looked taut, but not unduly strained.

“They came for him?” he asked. “You had no trouble slipping away?”

“I had no trouble, but the messenger came early. He said he had come from General Moreau.”

“Moreau?”

“Th-That’s what he said. Is something wrong, Jules? Is Damien in some sort of trouble?”

“Not that I know of. No other messenger arrived?”

“No.”

“Perhaps there was a last minute change of some sort. My people are good. As long as the task was accomplished, they wouldn’t care how it was done.”

She relaxed a little at his words. Moreau had always been demanding. This wasn’t all that unusual a request, and if Jules’s people got wind of it, they would consider it as good a diversion as any.

“Since we can no longer be certain how long he may be detained, we had better get on with it.”

“Yes.” She hadn’t thought of that. She prayed Moreau would keep Damien occupied until she could get back home.

“I think it’s time you told me where we are going,” Jules said as he helped her up in the carriage.

“The office of a shipbuilder named Sallier. It’s quite some distance away, on the Rue St. Etienne near the Quai de la Mer. Do you know it?” She had discreetly asked around about the shop and finally gotten the location from the driver of a cabriolet.

“I know the street. It shouldn’t be too hard to find the office.”

He picked up the reins to the single bay horse that pulled his small black phaeton. It was an unobtrusive conveyance, obviously chosen so as not to be noticed as it moved through the busy Paris streets.

It took a while to reach the Rue St. Etienne and pull into the narrow dark alley at the rear. Jules left her sitting in the carriage while he made his initial inspection, then came back and helped her down from the seat.

“There is a window above a small door leading down to the basement. I have already pried it open. I presume you are bound and determined to go with me.”

She smiled. “But of course. How would you know what to look for if I didn’t go along?”

He made a sound of exasperation, but didn’t bother trying to talk her out of it. He led her to the back door, then went round the building and climbed through the open basement window. A few minutes later the door swung open and he motioned her in.

“There are only two rooms,” he said. “A workroom where the designs are made, and one that is M’sieur Sallier’s office.”

“Where shall we start?”

“The workroom. If the plans are here, it will be because they are working drawings. Most likely they will be kept with others of their kind. To a man who works on such plans every day, it might not even occur to him that he has something worth stealing.”

“Perhaps that is what Damien was thinking.”

“I’m certain it is.”

Lighting a small whale-oil lamp, but careful to keep the wick burning low, they began to pull open the heavy oak cabinets that held shipbuilding designs. Each drawer contained a several-inch-deep stack, and it took long minutes to check each set of plans to discover if they were the ones showing the steam-propelled ships.

They finally finished the first chest.

Nothing.

“You go through that one,” Jules said, understanding now what to look for. “I will do this one.”

Alexa nodded. Every moment more they spent in the shop increased their chance of discovery. She crouched in front of the set of drawers, pulled the first one open and began to sift through the stack of designs. Nothing.

The second drawer yielded nothing. Neither did the third.

“Find anything?” Jules called softly.

“Not yet.” But she wasn’t about to give up. She finished the last drawer, stretched the muscles that had begun to ache in her back and neck, and turned to survey the room.

Jules was searching what appeared to be the last place in the room that plans could be kept. Alexa moved toward Sallier’s office. There was nothing on his desk, and the drawers in the desk weren’t large enough to store a set of plans.

Making certain nothing appeared out of place, she surveyed the walls of the office, looking for more of the storage chests. Nothing. Beginning to feel the stirrings of defeat, she started to leave, but as she reached for the door, she noticed a stout wooden bureau sitting behind it.

“Find something?” Jules asked from the doorway.

She surveyed the bureau with a last thread of hope. “If they aren’t in here, I don’t know where else we can look.”

“We had better hurry,” he said, kneeling beside her.

Alexa nodded and pulled open the drawer to see a stack of plans, just like those in the drawers in the workroom. She lifted each set and scanned the first page. Near the bottom of the pile she paused, her heart beginning to beat erratically.

“I’ve found them,” she said softly, almost reverently. “They’re here, Jules, just like Damien said. I only hope they mention where the ships are being built.”

“We can study them once we get out of here. Take a last look around. Make sure that nothing appears to have been disturbed.”

She did as he asked, praying she had replaced everything properly on top of Sallier’s desk, and hurried to the door at the rear of the shop. Jules locked it behind her, then went down to the basement and left by the window he had pried open to get in. He wedged it back into place and joined her in the carriage.

“We did it,” Alexa said as Jules coaxed the horse into a trot and the carriage pulled away.

“Naturellement, chérie, surely you had no doubt.”

She laughed along with him, relief and triumph making them both a little giddy, but already she was scanning the documents, looking for the crucial information.

“It’s all here, Jules. Where each ship is being built and the proposed completion date. Sweet God, they’ll be ready to move in six weeks.”

“Time enough for the English to act—once they get word.”

Alex looked up at him, a portion of his handsome face lit by the light slanting down from the moon. “You’ll see it done, Jules, just like you said? You’ll make certain these papers get to England?”

A fine hand cradled her cheek. “I will not fail you, chérie. As much as I do this for my country, I also do it for you.”

She smiled at him fondly. “Thank you, Jules.”

“Come with me, Alexa. Let me help you leave France and return safely home.”

She only shook her head. “Damien will get me home.”

“Nom de Dieu, it isn’t safe for you to wait.”

“I have to.”

For a long, tense moment he did not speak. Then a soft oath tumbled from his lips. “Is there nothing I can say?”

“You know there is not.”

“If Falon is lying … if he hurts you in any way—I swear I will kill him myself.”

Tears stung her eyes, but she forced them away. “You’re a good friend, Jules. I will never forget you.”

“Nor I you, chérie.”

He left her on the street several blocks from her home, then waited as she made her way off through the darkness. It didn’t take long to reach the carriage house. She crossed the courtyard then used the key to the servants’ entrance at the rear of the house. Quietly climbing the stairs, she proceeded down the hall toward her bedchamber. All the while, she prayed that Damien had not returned home. God only knew what he would do should he find her gone, and any steps he might take could sound the alarm.

She closed the door behind her and leaned against it, then crossed to the room that was his. Nothing was out of place. Since none of the servants had been roused, she felt safe in assuming he had not yet returned. With a sigh of relief, she glanced at the clock.

Two-thirty.

It had taken far longer than she had expected. She was bone-tired and her stomach growled with hunger. She wished she had eaten, yet the cold veal and limp vegetables left on the tray still sitting beside the hearth only made her stomach churn.

Alexa moved toward the mirror above her bureau and silently began to strip off her clothes. Dressed once more in her simple cotton night rail, she listened for her husband’s return.

She would not tell him what she had done—at least not yet. It was unfair to put Jules at risk. She was exhausted from her foray this night, yet she strained toward every sound, hoping to hear his heavy footfalls, secretly hoping he would come to her, join her in her bed. She needed his comfort this eve. She needed to feel his strong arms around her. She wanted to tell him she loved him. She wanted to hear him say the words to her.

Instead she lay awake, listening to the eerie creaking timbers in the house, to the sound of insects outside her window and the wind rustling softly through the trees. She was still awake when the gray light of dawn crept into the room.

And her husband had not yet returned.