The following morning, Isobel slept late, drained by the unaccustomed activity of sawing through countless twisted vines. She’d assumed the four of them would take turns at the sawing—that she’d be able to largely supervise. Instead, the other three had been hopeless; unable to ease back on their strength sufficiently to put just the right amount of pressure on the serrated blade, they’d constantly got the blade stuck.
Even Kit.
In the end, it had been faster and easier for Isobel to do all the sawing. The other three had helped in other ways—Royd and Lachlan taking turns in lifting her on their shoulders so she could slice through the higher bindings, and Kit pressing on the planks to tension the bindings so they were easier to cut.
By the time they’d done all they’d needed to do, Isobel’s arm muscles had been screaming. But the gate she’d created behind the women and children’s hut was now held in place by only two vines, both of which were half sliced through—easy to dispense with in the wink of an eye, at least for her.
The main gates had been more problematic; they couldn’t risk weakening the bindings to the point where opening and closing the gates might bring them down. She’d confirmed which planks they should cut between, one pair to the right of the gates, one pair to the left. Then, with her knowledge of structures and Royd’s understanding of forces, they’d determined which particular bindings needed to remain to allow the gates to stand apparently firmly and operate normally.
Between each set of planks, they’d left a single binding vine above head level but within a man’s reach, another at shoulder height, another at waist height, and a final binding a foot from the ground, all deeply scored but still holding. She’d sliced through all the other vines lashing those particular planks together, with Royd, Kit, and Lachlan constantly testing the structure to make sure it wasn’t in any danger of prematurely collapsing.
When they’d finally finished, she—and the others, too—had felt reasonably confident they’d made the right decisions. The gates had still seemed as solidly fixed as ever.
Once the rescue was under way and the noise in the compound rose, sailors with machetes could hack through the remaining bindings. If all went as planned, the mercenaries would be distracted and wouldn’t hear the thunks.
When they’d returned to the camp and she’d reached the oilskin she and Royd had been sharing, she’d collapsed in an exhausted heap and had immediately fallen asleep.
Apparently, he’d seen no reason to wake her come morning. She’d been drowsily aware when he’d left her side, but she’d been in no mood to face the day. She’d remained on the oilskin to one side of the clearing, her back to all activity, vaguely conscious of the men rattling around. Gradually, all sounds had faded, and she’d fallen deeply asleep once more.
She finally woke to the caw of a parrot in the canopy far above. Stretching, she rolled over and saw Kit sitting on a log nearby.
Kit noticed she was awake and smiled. “Good morning, sleepyhead.”
Entirely unrepentant, Isobel drawled, “Someone should have woken me.”
“What? After our fearless and occasionally fearsome leader growled that you should be allowed to sleep?” Kit made a rude noise. “Not likely.”
Isobel hid a pleased grin and sat up. “Well, I’m awake now. What time is it?”
Kit glanced upward and grimaced. “I’ve no idea. Not being able to see the sun throws me off. Breakfast was several hours ago, so make of that what you will.”
Isobel glanced around the clearing; there were only three men in sight, busily plaiting rope on the far side of the area. “Where is everyone?”
“Other than those keeping watch on the rock shelf, a group went and dug up the weapons hidden by the lake, then stockpiled them there, ready to use. After that, they were ordered to join all the rest, who are slaving over those yards you and Royd thought up. They’re all determined to have them ready as early in the afternoon as possible. It’s going to take an hour or two to get them into position, given it has to be done so stealthily.”
Isobel nodded. Although she’d slept reasonably well, she still felt enervated. It was the heat, the oppressive weight of warmth that seemed to press down on her and left her feeling as if her skin was even grimier than it was. She glanced at Kit. “The lake—don’t you think we should go and acquaint ourselves with the terrain? If we’re to send the women and children there, surely we need to have some notion of where to direct them.”
Kit looked at her, faintly puzzled. “I suppose.”
Suppressing a grin, Isobel pushed to her feet, picked up her satchel, and hunted in it until she found the linen towel she’d buried at the bottom. She pulled it out and showed it to Kit. “I believe I’ll take this in case I get wet.”
Kit laughed. “Excellent idea.” She reached for her seabag. “Just wait until I get mine.”
They left the clearing on the goat track that would eventually lead them up the flank of the small mountain and on to the rock shelf. But instead of going that way, before they reached the beaten path that hugged the palisade and eventually led to the lake, they selected another well-used animal track that led farther east, and in short order stepped out of thick jungle directly onto the bank of the lake.
They stood and surveyed the small lake; it was less than a hundred feet wide. From where they stood, they had a clear view of the crude jetty-cum-wharf and a relatively jungle-free area that lay past the end of the wharf opposite where the path from the compound reached it. The retrieved weapons had been cleaned and stacked ready at the end of the wharf, just before the clearing.
“Well, that’s fairly obvious.” Her hands on her hips, Isobel scanned the scene. “The women and children should follow the path past the compound gates and straight on to the lake, on along the wharf, then gather and wait in that area beyond it. Whichever men are assigned to protect them can form a defensive line across the wharf.”
Kit nodded. “Nice and simple. And given how Royd plans to deploy our men, it’s unlikely any mercenaries will make it out of the compound, much less find their way here.”
The sound of rushing water was a constant background noise. Isobel tracked it to the source and, far to their left, saw water gushing over a large boulder, a stream pouring into the lake with sufficient force to throw up clouds of mist.
Cool mist.
Kit had been staring into the depths of the lake. “This looks quite deep—more than deep enough to swim in—and that also means it should be cool.”
“My thoughts exactly,” Isobel replied, “but I’d rather not leave my clothes in plain sight of the wharf and that path. This trail leads farther around the lake—there looks to be an inlet tucked away with a bit of bank that must face the falls.”
Kit peered in the direction in which Isobel was looking, then waved her forward. “Lead on.”
The animal track wended about the edge of the lake, and eventually, they found the stretch of bank Isobel had thought must be there—a cove-like indentation facing the short waterfall and entirely out of sight of the wharf.
They raced each other in stripping and slipping into the lake. Isobel had fewer blades to unbuckle. She slid into the water, felt the wet coolness—verging on coldness—slide over her clammy skin, and groaned with pleasure.
Seconds later, Kit joined her and uttered a similarly appreciative moan.
They swam to the waterfall and discovered a deep, shadowed pool behind it. It was even colder there, with the air full of mist. They dallied in the dimness until their skins felt chilled, then ventured out again into the dappled sunshine.
For the first time since walking into the jungle, Isobel felt refreshed. She looked around. There was no one bar the two of them there, and all the men were terribly busy elsewhere...on a sigh, she tipped back and floated, letting the spray from the waterfall play over her naked skin. She closed her eyes and kept herself more or less in position with an occasional flip of her hands.
How long she lay there, quietly communing, she didn’t know.
Then she heard Kit say, “I’m getting out. Don’t feel obliged to follow.”
Without opening her eyes, Isobel smiled. “I’ll stay for a few more minutes. I’m sure I can find my way back by myself.”
Kit snorted, but made no reply.
The sounds of her dressing drifted to Isobel’s ears, then came soft rustling and the muted tramp of boots as Kit walked away.
Isobel drifted, soothed by the coolness and enveloped by the spray, with gentle, filtered sunbeams playing over her skin—just enough to warm, not enough to burn.
Then she realized she was bobbing up and down on a series of waves.
She snapped her eyes open.
Hard hands gripped her waist—a touch she instantly recognized.
She hauled in a breath and kicked upright—
Royd dragged her under.
Then he juggled her to face him, and his lips covered hers...
She didn’t bother struggling.
Countless seconds later, they broke the surface in a rush, both gasping.
She raised both hands, slicked her hair back from her face, and blinked at Royd.
He grinned. Hands locked about her waist, he started to draw her toward the waterfall, to the grotto behind it.
As, divining his intent, she glanced that way, he murmured, “I’ve always wanted to couple with a mermaid.”
She looked at him. “Mermaid?”
In a blink, she slid her hands to his shoulders and surged up—and had just enough leverage to push him under and down.
She let go and waited.
When he resurfaced and, with a hard shake of his head, flicked water and hair from his eyes, at her most haughty, she caught his gaze and arched a brow. “I believe you should be thinking in terms of an Amazon. This is a jungle, after all.”
He stared at her, then he laughed.
Then he cupped a hand behind her nape, hauled her to him and into a searing kiss. Then he kicked gently and propelled them under the waterfall.
* * *
They got back to the camp in time for a late lunch. Kit shot Isobel a knowing look, which she pointedly ignored.
Once they’d slaked their more mundane hungers, Royd sat with Lachlan, Kit, Liam Stewart, Reynaud, and the other senior officers of their combined crews—all of whom had trickled back to camp from where, deeper in the jungle, their teams were working on assembling the required yardarms—and proceeded to go through what he termed their order of battle.
Isobel sat to one side and observed. This was Royd as she’d never seen him—the commander in action.
Of an action that risked men’s lives, lives he considered it his responsibility to protect. To preserve.
At first blush, the plan he’d devised sounded outrageously reckless, but as he continued detailing where this group of men would be, and that group, and how and when they would engage, the picture of the fight came clear in her mind—much like a game she’d seen army men engage in with toy soldiers on a board—and she realized how carefully thought out each move was, and how, at least in this instance, every man seemed to have another at his back.
Although the plan was Royd’s, he was no dictator; there was a degree of discussion, and not just from his cousins but from Liam and some of the more junior officers, too. Royd listened to each comment, sought clarification or the opinions of others, and amended his orders in several respects. But the core of the plan remained.
And it was a good plan; judging by the expressions of the others, they thought so, too.
Ultimately, Royd addressed an issue she hadn’t thought he would—what might or could go wrong. He was blunt, but his experience showed, as did that of Liam and Lachlan, as they discussed various alternatives should one of their preferred actions be blocked.
Finally, Royd rose, and everyone else came to their feet. He dismissed them, and everyone, including his cousins, snapped off salutes before tramping off into the jungle, each returning to the group of men they were to lead in the upcoming attack-cum-rescue. From the expressions on their faces, all were now concentrating on the action, on performing as required and ensuring collective success.
Isobel rose, brushing clinging leaves from her breeches.
Royd turned to her; two of the men who’d earlier been plaiting rope hovered by the opening of the track to the rock shelf. “We’re going up to spell those on watch.”
She nodded. “I’ll come.”
The trek up to the rock shelf was uneventful. They replaced the three men currently there, then settled to observe the activity in the compound a hundred feet below.
All seemed to be proceeding much as the days before, except for Ross-Courtney and Neill, who went parading around the compound, looking into this hut, then that, with Satterly and Muldoon somewhat anxiously trailing behind. At one point, Winton came out of the barracks and wandered to the mine entrance. He peered inside, as if examining what he could see, but he didn’t venture in. Then he spotted Ross-Courtney and Neill nearing the hut the women worked in, and turned on his heel and strode back to the barracks.
“He, for one, doesn’t want to be there,” Royd murmured.
She nodded and wondered what Winton had been looking at.
Ross-Courtney climbed the steps to the cleaning shed door, Neill at his heels.
Muldoon said something—as if attempting to distract the older men—but Ross-Courtney dismissed the interruption with a supercilious flick of his hand, opened the door, and led the way inside.
Neill followed. After exchanging a glance, Satterly and Muldoon did as well.
Isobel waited to see them re-emerge. The minutes ticked past. Eventually, she stirred and murmured to Royd, “How long have they been in there?”
He glanced at the sky, then looked down at the cleaning shed. “At least half an hour.” After a moment, he added, “If I was Ross-Courtney, I’d want to see the stones the mine’s producing. Caleb said there were rare blue diamonds among the usual white ones. I suspect your cousin and the other women are taking the opportunity to feed Ross-Courtney’s and Neill’s greed, enough, at least, to ensure they don’t contemplate shutting the mine down in the next few hours.”
“Hmm.” Isobel continued to watch the shed, only peripherally aware of the others—mostly children and mercenaries—moving about the compound.
Finally, the door to the cleaning shed opened. Katherine, followed by two other women, led the gentlemen out. The group walked straight to the awning under which several girls crouched, sorting the rocks chipped out of the mine.
Leaning forward, her eyes locked on her cousin, Isobel saw Katherine call something to the girls as the group neared. In response, the girls scrambled to their feet and stepped out from under the awning. They congregated to one side, allowing Katherine to show the four men something beneath the awning.
“I assume she’s demonstrating what the girls do,” Royd said.
“That’s what it looks like.” Katherine was evidently explaining something. Neill and Satterly were paying close attention. Muldoon had the look of one who had seen it all before; he hung back to one side.
But as for Ross-Courtney...his attention had deflected from Katherine’s demonstration. His head had turned to the side.
Isobel followed his gaze. She stiffened.
Royd glanced at her. “What?”
She stared at Ross-Courtney. After a moment, she muttered, “I don’t like the way that bounder is looking at that girl—the tall one with wispy fair hair.”
Royd’s gaze locked on Ross-Courtney.
A moment later, Isobel elbowed him. “Look at Neill. He’s seen it, too.” Even viewed from this distance, Neill’s expression conveyed fastidious disdain.
Then Katherine stepped out from under the awning, putting herself between Ross-Courtney and the girl. To Isobel, Katherine’s subsequent performance seemed overly animated; her cousin had seen or sensed enough to feel compelled to shield the girl and deflect Ross-Courtney.
With an unctuous smile, Ross-Courtney allowed Katherine and the other women to usher him and Neill back to the cleaning shed. Isobel quietly exhaled.
Royd glanced sidelong at her. “We’re going in this evening.”
“Just as well.” Isobel watched Katherine wave the men inside. Once they’d passed, Katherine threw a plainly worried glance back at the ore piles, then went into the cleaning shed and shut the door.
Isobel looked at the awning, but the girls had ducked under its cover. She returned her gaze to the cleaning shed. After a moment, she stated, “If that bastard so much as touches a hair on any girl’s head, I will have his balls.”
Royd heard, but said nothing. He knew she meant the words more or less literally. She’d styled herself an Amazon; she was perfectly capable of acting like one.
Nothing further of note happened over the next half hour. But as the sun started to slide toward the horizon, the tension steadily increased. Everyone in their company knew the time for action was drawing inexorably nearer, that the time to check weapons and make last-minute adjustments to their preparations was running out. Various officers came to the rock shelf to report on progress or discuss minor adjustments to this or that.
Then a significant stir heralded the arrival of Declan, Edwina, Robert, and Aileen. Royd suggested the two sailors who had been sharing the watch take a break, allowing his brothers and their ladies to crowd onto the rock shelf with him and Isobel.
Royd watched as all four settled, their gazes drawn to the compound below. “You made good time.”
Robert, sitting next to Royd, humphed. “We left the settlement early yesterday, reached Kale’s camp by early afternoon, and decided to march on. We camped in the jungle and made an early start again this morning.”
“It’s easier to walk in the early morning.” Seated next to Robert, Aileen sent a smiling glance at Royd and Isobel. “And we wanted to be here in time to take a good look around before the excitement starts.”
Royd didn’t reply; he’d hoped—clearly vainly—that his brothers would succeed in convincing Aileen, and even more Edwina, to remain safely in Freetown. Just as well he’d made contingency plans; Edwina and Aileen could assist Isobel with evacuating the women and children and keeping the group corralled by the lake. He was banking on such a role appealing to the instincts all three women shared for helping and protecting those weaker than themselves.
And while they were keeping the other women and the children safe, they would remain safe, too.
“Incidentally,” Robert said, “Babington joined us. He’s waiting with our men.”
“I thought he would come,” Royd said.
Robert snorted. “We’d have had to tie him up to stop him.”
Royd had a role in mind for Babington, too.
“We heard that Caleb got himself—and his men—captured.”
The comment pulled Royd from his mental planning; Declan’s tone suggested disapproval. Royd mildly replied, “Indeed, and by managing to get himself and his men inside the compound without anyone dying, Caleb got us over the one otherwise-insurmountable hurdle that stood in the way of us successfully rescuing all the captives.”
Silence ensued as his brothers digested that. Robert grasped the point first. “So we now have sufficient trained fighters inside the compound to stand between the mercenaries and the likely hostages—namely the women and children.”
Across Robert, Declan glanced at Royd.
Royd nodded. “Precisely. Without Caleb and his men being inside the palisade, we would have been forced to accept losing some hostages in order to free the rest. I wasn’t looking forward to making that decision, so I’m grateful Caleb managed to pull off what amounts to an infiltration.”
Declan snorted. “Knowing him, that was far from planned, but he’s always been good at turning situations to his advantage.” Declan paused, then, in a brisker, more businesslike tone, asked, “So what are your orders?”
Royd ran through his plan, outlining the actions he envisioned as necessary to take the camp while simultaneously releasing and protecting the hostages.
His brothers listened without interruption; after his earlier discussions with Lachlan, Kit, and the other officers, the plans were well honed and had no real weaknesses left to be addressed.
Edwina and Aileen listened carefully, too. Royd hoped they would be content with the roles he’d assigned them; they seemed quite pleased to have been specifically included—a reaction he prayed augured well.
When he ended his recitation, at the point where all their men were inside the palisade and engaging with the mercenaries and all beyond became speculation, Robert stated, “Everything’s covered, as far as I can see.” He glanced at Declan.
Declan nodded decisively. “I can’t see any holes.” He looked past Royd to Isobel. “Being able to get through the palisade is a critical advantage—one the mercenaries won’t expect.”
“They won’t expect our sudden arrival, literally from out of the blue, either.” Robert glanced at Declan. “We need to brief our men.” He looked at Royd. “We halted in a clearing along the path from Kale’s camp. How far advanced are your work parties? When do you want us to bring our men up?”
Royd glanced at the sun; the afternoon was now well advanced. “The work parties should be almost ready to shift the yardarms into position. Why don’t you brief your men and Babington, then bring them through the jungle to Caleb’s camp? From there, you and your men can join the work parties and help get the yardarms in place.” He hesitated, then, his features hardening, added, “I’d rather be ready than not—I want every man in place, and all groups ready to go, before the light fades.”
Neither Declan nor Robert argued. Both got to their feet.
Declan arched his brows at Edwina, still seated on the rock. “Coming?”
Edwina glanced at Isobel, then at Aileen, then she tipped her head back and met her husband’s eyes. “I thought perhaps Isobel might show Aileen and me this lake. If we’re to gather the women and children there, knowing the area—the terrain—might prove useful.”
Isobel watched Declan glance at Robert, then at Royd.
Royd shrugged. “That’s not a bad idea. The area’s safe—none of the mercenaries ever venture that way after their morning excursion to fetch water.”
Isobel leapt in. “I’m happy to show Edwina and Aileen the way.” She glanced at Royd. “Then the three of us can return to our camp. Edwina and Aileen will be closer to where they need to be to help with the evacuation later.”
Royd held her gaze for a second, then looked at Robert and Declan. “On your way past our camp, send two more men up to take the watch. Once I’m relieved, I’ll go down to the lake and escort these three to our camp. Isobel’s right—it’ll be more sensible for Edwina and Aileen to wait there.”
Edwina turned a sunny smile on Declan, and Aileen smiled confidently at Robert.
Both men hesitated, then Declan nodded. “We’ll meet at Royd’s camp.” He turned and made his way off the rock shelf.
Robert followed, then the three ladies rose, and Isobel led Edwina and Aileen down the narrow path in Declan and Robert’s wake.
Halfway down, they had to pause and wait by the side of the track to allow one of the work parties to haul a huge cleaned and polished tree trunk up the track.
Edwina studied the ropes and pulleys several men were carrying. “Aha. Now I understand.”
Aileen nodded. “Quite ingenious. I can’t imagine this Dubois will be expecting anything like what’s going to happen.”
“Surprise is vital for our success.” With their path again clear, Isobel stepped out and picked up the pace. “Come on—I’ve quite a lot to tell you.”
She didn’t need to say anything more to have the other two hurrying at her heels.
They reached the lake. Isobel showed them the narrow wharf and the weapons that had been buried, but now lay cleaned and ready for use.
“So the women and children are funneled in here”—Aileen made a sweeping motion from the path across the wharf to the designated area beyond—“and there’s a group of men delegated to protect them, and they have adequate weapons to do that.” She met Isobel’s eyes. “So what’s the point of us being here, too?”
“My thoughts exactly.” Edwina had been studying the lake. She looked at Isobel and pointed to the water. “Is it possible to swim, do you know?”
Isobel grinned. “Kit and I already have.” She didn’t mention Royd.
Aileen’s eyes lit. “After the trek here, I would give a great deal to feel water on my skin.”
“There’s a tiny cove over there that’s screened.” Isobel pointed toward the waterfall. “It’s easier to get into the water there.”
She led the way around the lake.
The other two were wearing their breeches and jackets over fine shirts. As they stripped, Aileen said, “Yet another advantage of breeches over skirts—much faster to get into and out of.”
Isobel perched on a flat rock. Once the other two had slid into the water and got beyond their first raptures at the coolness, she stated, “I’ll be the one who cuts through the final threads and opens the gate at the rear of the women and children’s hut.”
Edwina nodded, sending ripples across the water’s dark surface. “And we’ll be right behind you—to help get the women and children out of the hut and onto the path to the lake.”
“But once they’re all out and have got past the main gates and are disappearing down the path”—Aileen floated on her back, hands flapping to keep her position—“with armed sailors lining the path and more at the lake itself, then...”
“Indeed,” Isobel said. “So what’s our plan?”
* * *
For Caleb—and he was quite sure all the captives—the day seemed to drag on interminably.
Finally—finally!—the break for the evening meal was called.
All the men who’d been pretending to toil in the second tunnel stepped back from the rock face. Many, he noticed, stared at the rock wall for a moment, as if recognizing that, if all went as planned—and even if the rescue effort blew up in their faces—they wouldn’t be seeing the sight again.
Taking care to behave as they normally did, they trooped out of the mine. Those carrying the shovels used to clear ore from under the men’s feet added the tools to the pile of shovels and picks no longer in daily use that Dixon had organized to leave just inside the mine’s entrance. Close at hand.
Even better, they’d fallen into the habit of carrying the hammers and chisels they were now required to work with in their pockets; as, in the aftermath of the women’s tools blunting, Dubois had declared each man responsible for the care of his own tools, not even Dubois saw anything odd in that.
He might have thought twice if he’d realized what very sharp edges the chisels now carried.
As Caleb walked out of the mine and the shadow of the overhanging rock fell behind—for the last time—he glanced around, then joined Phillipe in strolling slowly across the compound to the kitchen to fetch their meals.
He and Phillipe had already given their men their orders. When the distraction took hold and deflected the mercenaries’ attention, they would rush to take position between the mercenaries and the women and children’s hut; until Royd, Declan, and their men could reach them and bring proper weapons, they would be armed with chisels, hammers, and experience alone.
The women and children were already gathered about the fire pit; as he and Phillipe passed, Caleb heard Annie admonish one of the boys not to bolt his food.
Everyone was keyed up, waiting for the action to start.
Over breakfast, supported by the other leaders with whom he’d spent half the night hammering out who had to be where, doing what, and when, Caleb had spoken to the gathering around the fire pit, outlining what was expected to happen, going over the timing, and then informing every subgroup of their positions and their roles, before stressing how important it was that every single person adhered to the agreed script.
He hoped everyone did, but experience suggested that at least one if not more would think to improve on the plan.
But as far as he could manage it, every one of the captives was ready, and everything was in place.
He and Phillipe joined the line of men snaking in under the awning over the open-air kitchen. As he and Phillipe shuffled forward, they surreptitiously scanned the barracks’ porch.
“We have Satterly, Muldoon, Ross-Courtney, and Neill,” Caleb murmured. “All sitting at their ease and sipping from glasses of what looks like brandy or whisky.”
Phillipe softly snorted. “I hope they’re enjoying those drinks. If I have my way, it’ll be their last luxury.”
Caleb was in complete agreement. “Dubois, Arsene, Cripps, and Winton must be inside.”
“Those four seem intent on giving our two superior gentlemen and their chief toadies as wide a berth as possible.”
“Even curs have instinctive standards.”
The comment surprised a smothered laugh from Phillipe.
Caleb faced forward. “The guards who normally watch the gate from the porch have retreated to the gate.” He glanced consideringly at the pair. “I doubt it will make any difference—they’ll come running once your distraction takes hold.”
“Them and the other pair circulating. If all goes as planned, it’ll be difficult for them to deny their instincts. They’ll leave their posts to face the obvious and imminent danger.”
Caleb nodded. He and Phillipe reached the surly cook, who handed them tin plates with a lump of stale bread, a square of hard cheese, and several strips of jerky. Accepting the meager fare, they returned to the logs about the fire pit and sat with the other leaders.
Caleb shared a smile with Kate as he settled on the log beside her. Talk was minimal as they ate.
As it always did in those climes, night fell with swift finality. Darkness enveloped them. One of the men built up the fire.
Caleb set his empty plate at his feet. In the uncertain light cast by the leaping flames, he swiftly scanned the faces. Everyone was tense, keen for the action to commence. Every captive knew their part; every adult was committed to their role. He met the eyes of Annie, Gemma, Ellen, and Mary, who were seated with the children; he knew he could rely on the four women, along with Harriet—seated beside Dixon—and, of course, Kate, to ensure the children, all those who slept with the women in their hut, followed the script and were in the right place at the right time to be whisked out of the compound to safety.
He, Dixon, and Jed Mathers—Annie’s fiancé—had been relieved to hear that their women would be tucked safely away from the action.
Caleb shifted his gaze around the circle until it came to rest on the four older boys, who had their heads together and were talking animatedly, albeit in whispers. Caleb wasn’t so sure those four could be relied on to follow orders, but he and Hillsythe had done their best to impress on the four that the best way they could assist was to stay inside the men’s hut until everything quieted and someone came to fetch them. As the four slept in that hut, they couldn’t be sent to join the women and other children without risking alerting Dubois or his lieutenants.
But if Caleb felt uncertain over the boys’ ability to stay out of trouble when it was erupting feet away, there was no one else whose commitment to their plan he doubted.
Phillipe, on Caleb’s right, grumbled, “Knowing that, after all these weeks, action is only a few hours away...it’s damned hard not to pace. I need to move.”
Caleb knew what Phillipe meant; he was no more immune to the ratcheting tension than anyone else.
Beyond Phillipe, Hillsythe stared at the dirt before his feet. “These last hours always seem especially critical, as if, if anything’s going to go wrong, now is when it’ll happen.”
Bite your tongue. Caleb stirred. “We have to remain calm. We’ve managed so far—we just need to follow the plan step by step.”
Phillipe snorted. Sotto voce, he said, “And just how is that supposed to work with you and me involved?”
Caleb ignored that. He turned to Kate and smiled encouragingly. “Is it time for the children to retire yet?”
She met his eyes, then squeezed his forearm. “Not just yet. Patience. It’s going to be difficult enough to get them to tramp across as they usually do without looking back or around.” She nodded to where Dixon sat with Harriet beside him. “John will tell Harriet when it’s time.”
Caleb pretended not to hear Phillipe’s low chuckle. They’d agreed the children should retire half an hour earlier than usual to ensure that, when the time came, they were all in their hut and ready to be evacuated. Caleb prayed Royd’s notion of creating a gate behind the hut went ahead without a hitch; the last thing he wanted was for the women and children to have to come out of the hut again or, potentially even worse, for them to be trapped inside.
Reining in his impatience, he turned to Phillipe. “All ready on your front?”
Phillipe and Hillsythe had devised the distraction, with technical support from Dixon. But it had fallen to Phillipe and his men to make the necessary preparations; they were the most experienced in covertly blowing things up.
Phillipe nodded. “Dixon, Fanshawe, Hopkins, and I checked the run this morning. All seemed in place and secure.”
“Who have you delegated to set it off?”
Phillipe arched a brow at him. “Me. And if, for some reason, I’m prevented from doing so, Ducasse will, and if not him, Quilley. One or other of us will get the thing going. You can rest easy on that score.”
“Good.” Caleb was immeasurably glad they’d realized the need for such a distraction weeks ago and had devised their strategy and immediately started to put it into place. It had taken weeks of painstaking work—not because it had been physically difficult but because they hadn’t dared be caught doing it, and they’d had to cross an open stretch of the compound to achieve the effect they wanted. “So everything’s in place. Royd’s here, and Robert and Declan will have joined him by now. Everything’s on track to pull off this rescue.”
He looked at Kate; when she glanced up, he met her eyes and managed a tight smile.
Everything will be all right.
He was still on edge. Increasingly so.
As if reading that in his eyes, she patted his arm, then slid her hand to his, twined their fingers, and briefly squeezed. “Harriet just signaled. It’s time for us to go.”
Caleb glanced around and saw the other women getting to their feet and waving the children to theirs.
When he looked back at Kate, she was waiting to catch his eyes. She tightened her hold on his hand. “Good luck. I’ll see you later.”
The latter sentence sounded like an order; the look in her eyes confirmed it was.
He discovered he couldn’t smile. Ruthlessly quashing the urge to haul her into his arms—and not let go—he nodded.
She slid her fingers from his and rose. She gave a general wave to the men; Annie and Gemma called, “Good night.”
Then the women herded the children toward their hut.
Before Caleb could, Hillsythe pinned the four older boys with a hard stare. They felt it and, reluctantly, rose, too. Dragging their heels, they slouched off toward the men’s hut.
The tension gripping Caleb escalated, a vise cinching about his chest. He was sure all the other men felt the same way. The women and children withdrawing was the first step in their plan.
He forced himself to sit, apparently relaxed, and watch Kate gather the last of the children. Tilly, the oldest girl, stopped to help Kate. Between them, Kate and Tilly sent the four urchins skipping toward the hut, then fell in behind.
Watching them go, Caleb breathed, “Our rescue is officially under way.”