Chapter Twenty-Five

 

Donning the customary black mourning gown, Isabelle left the house and stayed in town all afternoon. She didn’t want people to think she cared nothing about her father-in-law’s death, but neither did she want to stay in the house while Marcus occupied it. Being outside in the sunlight helped brighten her day. If only in small measurements.

As she moved from shop to shop, she thought about collecting things to take back to France when she returned. Her heart hadn’t softened toward Marcus, and she didn’t know if it ever would. Trust was a hard thing to build back up after it’d had been broken.

Marcus had shattered her hopes and dreams with one lie that grew and festered. She still cared for him but didn’t want to. In these past days of silence, she hadn’t come to any conclusions except she wanted to go home. She wanted to be away from those who had hurt her and be around those who loved her unconditionally.

As she left a shop, she nearly ran head-on into someone she’d rather not look at. Mrs. Westland stopped short before they collided, smiled and smoothed out her dress.

“Excuse me,” Isabelle muttered as she stepped around the lady, but the woman grabbed Isabelle’s elbow, stopping her.

“Please don’t leave. I wish to speak to you.” She glanced around them. “In private.”

Isabelle wanted nothing more than to be rude to the woman, but because they were out in public, she didn’t want people to gossip about her unseemly behavior. “Fine.” Isabelle took a deep breath. “What is it you wish to discuss?”

“Your husband.”

This was so inappropriate, especially between the wife and former mistress, but Isabelle couldn’t turn the woman away. She pointed to her coach. “Would you like to talk inside?”

Mrs. Westland smiled. “I would be delighted.”

Isabelle climbed in first, and then adjusted on the seat while Mrs. Westland sat across from her. Isabelle folded her hands in her lap, willing herself to remain calm although her heartbeat quickened, not knowing what the conversation would lead to.

“Lady Lockwood, I know you don’t approve of me, but we must put our differences aside.”

Isabelle shrugged. “What I think of you shouldn’t matter.”

“It does, though, because it affects Matthew.”

“Please refrain from calling my husband by his given name in my company.” Isabelle arched an eyebrow.

“As you wish, but no matter how you look at it, everything you do reflects Lord Lockwood.”

Isabelle shook her head. “I don’t understand. What are you trying to say?”

Mrs. Westland exhaled deeply and leaned forward. “I’m sure you know how I’m involved with Matt—Lord Lockwood. We both seek to find Napoleon’s spies. I think you want the same thing, too, but you are stubborn to admit how you really feel.”

She shrugged. “My opinion doesn’t matter.”

“It does to your husband.” Mrs. Westland leaned forward and grasped Isabelle’s folded hands. “Don’t you see? Your inability to understand his devotion to the cause is tearing him apart. There’s an important meeting tonight that your husband must attend, but he isn’t going because he doesn’t think you care.”

Through the woman’s plea, genuine concern laced her voice. Isabelle knew Marcus worked for the prince in trying to locate Napoleon’s spies, and apparently so did Mrs. Westland or she wouldn’t be practically on her knees begging right now. Strange, because the other woman didn’t strike Isabelle as the type who pleaded for anything. So this meeting tonight would probably be very important.

Although Isabelle didn’t want to care, she couldn’t help it. Before she left for France, she could help Marcus in this matter. At least she’d feel like she’d accomplished something during their short marriage. She nodded. “I’ll speak with my husband then.”

Mrs. Westland smiled and squeezed Isabelle’s hands. “Thank you. I think he would enjoy it if you accompanied him, too.”

Isabelle scrunched her forehead. “Me? Go with him? Is it possible since I’m a woman?”

The other woman chuckled. “I attend meetings all the time, and I’m a woman.”

“Splendid. Then I’ll go.”

“Your husband will certainly appreciate your loyalty, and the others will be your devoted servants.”

Isabelle laughed and shook her head. “Oh, I wouldn’t go that far, but nonetheless I appreciate your comment.”

Mrs. Westland climbed out of the carriage, gave Isabelle a wave before sauntering down the walkway. Isabelle breathed a heavy sigh of relief. Perhaps the other woman was right. Marcus would be good at fighting for what he believes in, which would make him a dedicated member of the group. Her refusal to forgive him had put him in a state of melancholy, and perhaps doing this last thing for him would help turn his attitude around.

Isabelle ran a few more errands before having the driver take her back to the house. As he brought in her packages, she hurried inside to see if Marcus would talk to her. She knocked on his study door and when nobody answered, she opened and looked inside. She grimaced and waved her hand in front of her face. The room reeked of alcohol and cigar smoke, but her husband was not here.

She left and walked to his room, knocked, and once again didn’t receive an answer. Just like his study, she opened the door and peeked inside. The same thick scent of alcohol and cigar hung thick through the air here, as well.

“Marcus?”

No answer. She shrugged and left, wandering back to her room. He must have finally decided to go outside. Perhaps his spirits were better already. She only hoped, because he wouldn’t be happy when she informed him of her plans to return home.

She took out her newly purchased items and hung them in her armoire and placed the others in her drawers. Once she finished, she ventured downstairs, looking for something to keep her entertained. Gabe was suspiciously missing, too. Then again, anywhere her husband went, his friend was always by his side.

She collected her quill and paper and sat at the desk in the drawing room to write a letter to her aunt and uncle. As she started explaining her marriage, tears formed in her eyes and emotion clogged her throat. She’d been so frightened of Lord Lockwood, wanting Hawk to rescue her from the ceremony. How naïve she’d been, not knowing Hawk was at her wedding dressed as her husband. Those few days after when she’d wanted to forget Hawk’s passionate kisses and welcome her husband’s, she was torn apart when she couldn’t. How simple it would have been for Marcus to tell her the truth. She certainly wouldn’t have suffered as much heartache.

A visitor knocked on the front door, but she let Gentry answer it. Within minutes, the butler walked into the room and cleared his throat.

“Pardon me, my lady, but there is someone here to see you. He says it’s very important.”

“Do you know who it is?”

Gentry shook his head. “Not his name, my lady, but the vagabond has been here before. Lord Lockwood took care of it last time.”

She frowned and set her quill down. “I’m assuming my husband isn’t here, then?”

“No, he’s out. I believe he went to some kind of meeting, my lady.”

“Indeed?” Apparently, Mrs. Westland didn’t need to beg Isabelle’s favor after all. She was relieved he finally decided to do something for others instead of wallowing in his misery. “Very well.” She pushed away from the desk. “I’ll take care of the matter.” She walked out of the drawing room and toward the front door. The closer she came, the more the visitor came into view. Her heart quickened at seeing Monkey.

She hurried to his side and smiled. “Adam, what are you—”

He grabbed her hand and pulled, trying to get her outside. “There’s no time to waste, me lady. We must hurry.” He shook his head. “She’s a witch, I tell you. We can’t let her win.”

“Slow down, Adam. I don’t understand. Tell me what’s wrong.”

Adam dropped her hand and took a deep breath. “I overheard Simon and a woman talkin’ about Captain Hawk.”

“Shhh…” She clapped a hand over his mouth. “Come inside to the drawing room. We’ll have more privacy there.” She allowed him inside and took him to the room, closing the door behind them. “Now tell me what you’ve heard.”

“Simon is betrayin’ the Capt’n. I heard him tellin’ a woman that they will wait for yer husband at the meeting tonight. They plan on killing him.”

Her heart dropped. “Simon? Why is he betraying a man he’s worked with?”

“Me thinks he’s still mad at Hawk for not lettin’ him have his way with ye while ye were prisoner.”

“That can’t be right.” Panic heightened. “Would he risk being caught and killed?”

“Me thinks Simon hopes Hawk will die first, so he doesn’t care.”

“True. I didn’t think of that.”

He tugged on her arm again as tears filled his eyes. “We have to hurry. The meeting will start soon, and if we don’t stop them, they’ll kill Hawk.”

Urgency rushed through her chest, making her blood pump faster. Her head throbbed with worry. “We have to find Gabe. He will help. You go to Thorne Shipping to see if he’s there, and if you see any more of Hawk’s men along the way, let them know, too. I’ll hurry to the meeting and try to stop Marcus. Do you know where they’re meeting?”

“Aye. Meadowbrook Lane.”

She nodded. “I know the place.” She pushed him toward the door and opened it. “Now don’t dawdle. There’s not a moment to waste.”

She flew upstairs and grabbed her bonnet and cloak. Her heart hammered against her ribs, and fear clutched her throat. Simon couldn’t possibly win, but then if nobody knew about it… Her stomach clenched. What if she were too late?

After hurrying out to the stable and saddling a horse, she continued on her way. Isabelle clutched the shawl around her neck as she slowed her mare to a trot. The sun descended quickly, bringing shadows everywhere. A light fog had settled on the ground, almost like the last time she’d come to this cottage spying on her husband. When the place came into view, a wagon and a few horses were already here. Marcus’ black steed wasn’t one of them. Her heart dropped, and she prayed she wasn’t too late.

Silence filled the air. Hairs pricked on the back of her neck as chills ran down her spine. It shouldn’t be this quiet. The cottage was close enough to a pond that the chirping of frogs should be singing. A night owl should hoot his evening call. Crickets should play their lonely night song for all to hear.

Something wasn’t right.

She clutched the pistol on her lap, grateful she’d thought to bring it with her. Pulling the horse to a stop, she listened for other sounds, but only the frantic beat of her heart and the animal’s snorts echoed through the air.

Sliding from the animal, she held the pistol close as her feet touched the ground. Cautiously, she took slow steps around the house. The last meeting took place in the barn, and she supposed that was where it would be tonight since no lights lit the inside of the abandoned house. Nearer to the barn she moved, a twinkle of lights flickered through the window. Still, no night sounds disturbed her heavy breathing as she studied the hazy land around her.

When she made it to the barn, her heart nearly took over her throat as fear clawed through her. She took calculated breaths, trying to assure herself all would be fine. Monkey had gone to find Gabe and the others. Soon this nightmare would be over.

She swallowed hard and lifted on her toes to peek inside the barn. One man sat on a chair—no, he was tied to the chair. Her heart dropped as fear heightened. Marcus!

Her teeth chattered and palms moistened as she searched the barn, looking for Simon. It appeared Marcus occupied the room himself. His head lopped to one side as binds of rope wound around his wrists in back of him. She prayed he was still alive.

As she shifted away from the window, a twig snapped behind her and she spun around. Large hands grabbed her, but she clung to the pistol, knowing she must not let go. Simon stood close to her, struggling with her. Sneering, he stared into her eyes. Although he undoubtedly was stronger than her, she couldn’t let him retrieve her weapon.

She sank her teeth into his wrist and he howled, releasing her. Shoving her elbow into his chest, she moved away, but the bulky man came back and his body knocked her to the ground. She screamed and continued to clutch the pistol. His strong fingers bit into her bones as he yanked at the weapon.

“Curse you, woman,” he muttered. “Release this at once.”

“No! You release me.”

She tried to bite him again, but he used the back of his hand to slap her. Pain filled her face and she jerked. When the bones in her hands screamed in agony, she finally let go. Sobbing, she brought her bruised fingers to her mouth.

Simon wrapped his arm around her neck and tightened his hold. Breathing heavy, his foul breath wafted around her and she gagged.

“Yer not goin’ anywhere, my lady, ‘cept for where I want to take ye.”

Roughly, he pulled her to her feet before pushing her toward the door. He yanked it open and shoved her inside. She stumbled, but righted herself. The sight of Marcus made her gasp. Indeed, he was unconscious. His face had taken on a pallor shade as blood trickled from his head, sliding down the right side.

She ran to him and fell on her knees beside him, running her hand over his face. “Marcus?” Her voice tightened as fear choked her throat. She lifted the edge of her cloak to wipe the blood. It looked as if Simon had whacked Marcus’ head.

Simon laughed as he walked closer. “He’s alive, but just barely. We figured we’d keep him alive for a little while and make him suffer.”

She shot him a glare. “What gives you the right to do this? He has been nothing but kind to you.”

Simon rolled his eyes. “Aye, kind ye say, but really, he hasn’t. Captain Hawk only wants to please himself. He doesn’t care about anybody else.”

“You have been brainwashed then,” she spat. “When I was being held prisoner, I saw firsthand how generous Hawk was to his men.”

He stepped closer and narrowed his stare. “Generous? I think not since he doesn’t like to share.” He wrapped a lock of hair around his fingers and pulled. “But he will share now, won’t he?”

Yelping, she grabbed her hair, trying to get it away from him. From the corner of the barn, a woman’s laugh floated through the opened space. Isabelle swung her gaze in the direction. Mrs. Westland came into view, her hair wild around her face, appearing like a shrew. She wore another dress designed for harlots.

Anger rose in Isabelle’s head, making it pound. That trollop was the reason they were here. She’d tricked Isabelle into coming, and she wouldn’t doubt she did the same with Marcus.

“Now, Simon. You’ll get your turn with Lady Lockwood, I assure you.” She stopped in front of Marcus and frowned as she stroked his forehead. “Simon? Did you have to be so brutal?”

“Ye wanted him to cooperate, didn’t ye?”

“Yes, but I didn’t want him unconscious.”

The big brute finally released Isabelle and she scooted closer to Marcus. A low moan came from her husband, and she turned her attention back to him. He blinked and looked around the room, then his gaze rested on her. A smile cracked his dry lips.

“You’re safe,” he whispered.

Her heart melted and tears stung her eyes. “Yes, and so are you.” For now, anyway.

He looked at Simon and scowled. “What’s the meaning of this?” His voice boomed, shaking through the rafters. “You think to get away with this mutiny?”

Simon laughed. “Aye, for as long as I can.”

“What made you decide to betray your friends?”

“Friends?” He shook his head. “Ye weren’t my friends. Greedy men, all of ye.”

“And you,” Marcus growled, turning his focus on Mrs. Westland. “Were you the leak amongst the group of men fighting for Britain?”

Her chuckle was deep and throaty. “Matthew and I were both leaks for the traitorous group, along with your father. Napoleon sent us over here to see what we could discover about this group. We were paid well for our service.”

Isabelle’s gut wrenched. Why hadn’t she seen through the woman’s disguise? Why hadn’t Marcus for that matter? He knew his brother and father were up to no good.

“What do you hope to accomplish?” Marcus snapped.

The vicious woman leaned in front of him, as an evil grin stretched her lips. “You took something dear to my heart, and now I’m going to return the deed.”

Marcus arched an eyebrow. “I highly doubt my brother was dear to your heart.”

“Oh, but he was. The trinkets he gave me were very dear to my heart, and now that he’s dead, I will never get anymore.”

“What about Simon? It appears he’s trying to take my dead brother’s place.”

Mrs. Westland rolled her eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

Simon huffed and folded his arms across his chest. “I could if ye gave me a chance.”

The other woman released an irritated sigh and stood, turning to Simon to rub her arms up and down his chest. “Of course I will, darling, but first let’s decide what to do with these two.”

“So how did you two meet up?” Marcus asked.

Mrs. Westland turned her head, still hanging on Simon. “Actually, I give Mr. Lawrence credit for that.”

Isabelle gasped and Marcus jerked forward but the ropes held him to the chair. “Impossible,” he yelled.

“It’s not impossible at all. Because of the trick you and Gabe played on me when you sent Gabe in your stead to seduce me, I decided to check him out to see why Matthew would allow such a thing to happen.” She shrugged. “Gabe led me to Simon, and once I started asking questions and flashing money, Simon was more than willing to give me the answers I wanted, among other things.”

Simon groaned, grabbed Mrs. Westland’s chin roughly and brought his mouth on hers in a disgusting—slobbery kiss.

Isabelle laid her head on Marcus’s arm as her hand slipped behind the chair to clutch his. Although tied tightly, he was able to wiggle his fingers against her palm in soft strokes. She met his deep stare, appearing grayer now because of the shadows, reminding her of how Hawk had always looked at her. He mouthed don’t worry, but as hard as she wanted to think they’d be rescued, she doubted.

While Simon kept Mrs. Westland busy for a few minutes, Isabelle yanked at the ropes around Marcus’ wrists, hoping to free him. The knots slipped loose, but not enough.

She struggled to smile, trying to give him some hope. He then mouthed, I love you. Once again, her heart melted and tears filled her eyes. She did love this man no matter how upset he’d made her. She couldn’t lose him. She knew that now. Within time she could learn to trust him again.

“I love you, as well,” she whispered.

His fingers squeezed hers.

Laughing, Mrs. Westland swung around, jerking Isabelle’s attention in her direction. The trollop planted her hands on her hips and tilted her head.

“I cannot decide whether I want to see these two suffer at our hands, or wait for some of Napoleon’s soldiers to torture them.”

“Whatever we decide better be soon. The soldiers will be here any minute now,” Simon said.

Marcus lifted his chin. “Wait for the soldiers. I can assure you they won’t believe you without proof, and I doubt you have any at all.”

Laughter bellowed from Simon’s throat. “Think again, dear highwayman. I know the location of yer hideout.”

“True, but there’s nothing there that gives away my identity.”

Mrs. Westland growled and marched to Isabelle, yanking her by the arm and lifting her to stand. “Mark my words, Captain Hawk, you will talk, or your lovely wife will die a cruel death in front of your very eyes.”

The other woman’s fingers pinched into Isabelle’s arm and she grimaced. Panic settled in Marcus’ eyes, which made her that much more frightened.

“If you hurt her, I swear to God I’ll kill you personally with my bare hands.” Marcus glared at Mrs. Westland.

Tears leaked down Isabelle’s face as she silently pleaded with Marcus. She wanted to be in his arms right now. Helplessness washed over her, knowing he couldn’t do anything tied up.

Simon growled and slid his arm around Isabelle’s, pulling her against his body. He dropped his face to the crook of her neck and licked her skin. She squirmed and slapped him, but her struggle was useless.

Marcus swore and jerked in his chair. “Let her go. This fight is between us, so leave her be.”

“Oh, but this is about her. Have you forgotten the time when you wouldn’t share your prisoner? I could have satisfied her completely.”

She glared at him over her shoulder. “I highly doubt that. Not after Hawk had branded me.”

Simon raised his hand and slapped Isabelle’s face. She fell against him as pain washed through her once more.

A gurgled cry came from Marcus as he jumped to his feet, the bindings and the chair still attached. Hatred glared through his eyes as he aimed his attack toward Simon. Just as Marcus plowed into the other man, Isabelle fell to the floor. Simon grasped Marcus and pushed him backwards. As he hit the ground, the chair broke in pieces, yet the bindings secured his movements.

Shouts from outside stopped them all and they turned toward the window. The voices grew closer. Isabelle’s heartbeat quickened, hoping someone came to rescue them. Then fear covered her momentary excitement knowing Napoleon’s soldiers would kill them.

A gunshot rang through the barn and nicked Simon’s shoulder. He stumbled backward. Isabelle scrambled to Marcus, kneeling by his side again as she hastily yanked at the knots around his wrists. The barn door flew open. Gabe and Monkey ran through, holding sabers and a pistol.

Mrs. Westland screeched and ran to the wall, grabbing two more swords. She called Simon’s name before throwing one to him. Simon gave an evil laugh as he forged toward Gabe, swinging his cutlass high in air. Mrs. Westland ran toward Monkey, slashing away.

As the cling of heavy metal filled the barn, Isabelle struggled to loosen the ropes at Marcus’ wrists. The tips of her fingers grew painful, but she kept on, using all her might to get them loose. Marcus finally yanked a hand free, which made it easier for him to break loose. He held her tight for a brief moment, and then moved his hands over her face and down her shoulders.

“I came here to find you,” he said softly. “After I’d cancelled the meeting tonight, Mrs. Westland told me you were going to be here to support me.”

She nodded. “She convinced me to bring you, but when you weren’t at home, I figured I didn’t need to.” She sniffed. “Monkey told me he’d overheard Simon and a woman discussing a plan to kill you at the meeting. I knew I had to save you.”

He pulled her close for another hug, and then kissed her soundly on the mouth. She answered back, but he withdrew again and turned to Monkey as he fought Mrs. Westland like a true highwayman.

“My love,” Marcus said, “you need to leave while we finish our business with these traitors.”

She shook her head, her heart wrenching as fear crawled through her. “No. The soldiers will surely kill you all.”

He smiled and stroked her cheek. “I won’t let that happen. I have a beautiful wife who loves me, so there’s no reason for me to give up.”

Tears rolled down her cheeks as he pushed her away and turned toward the sword fight. Monkey called out to him and threw him a saber.

“Are you all right?” Marcus asked the boy.

Adam grinned as he came close to slicing Mrs. Westland’s arm. “I’ve got yer back covered, Cap’n.”

Isabelle’s body shook, and worry filled her, but she couldn’t leave. She had to know Marcus would not get injured. Silently, she prayed that her husband’s life would be spared. She glanced around the floor, wishing she knew where Simon had put her pistol.

 

* * * *

 

Dizziness flowed through Marcus’ head as he marched toward his friends. Whatever Simon had hit him with earlier to knock him out had left a nasty gash in his head. Weakness wasn’t an option. Especially now.

Taking a deep breath, he pushed himself to help his fellow crew members. Just as he reached Gabe, Simon cut his friend’s leg with a lucky slice. Gabe stumbled back clutching his wound as blood trickled between his fingers. Simon lifted his sword to finish the deed, but Marcus stepped between him and Gabe, blocking the blow.

Simon jumped back and held his ground, his gaze narrowed on Marcus. The room swam around him, and he blinked to gain his bearings. He must have strength. He’d come too far to lose, and now that he knew Isabelle loved him, he had to fight for their lives.

With a shout, Simon attacked, making a horizontal cut through the air. Marcus blocked and footed around him, holding his opponent’s stare. Simon slashed again, but Marcus met the attack. Steel clanged loudly, and Marcus’ reactions timed perfectly with Simon’s.

From the corner of his eyes, he noted Mrs. Westland held her own with Monkey. Where were his other crewmembers? Yet it surprised him to see the young boy doing so well. At least Monkey kept her busy until Marcus could finish Simon.

Dizziness assailed Marcus again, and he cursed his inability to regain his strength quickly. Simon’s eerie laughter grated on his nerves.

“Captain Hawk, yer not goin’ to win.”

Marcus grinned. “Neither are you.”

“Oh, but I don’t have a head injury.” He plunged his sword forward.

Marcus blocked it with his saber and shook his head. “Then we fight until one of us surrenders.”

A blood-curtailing scream rented the air. Marcus’ heart stopped as he glanced at his wife. Her wide eyes were on Mrs. Westland and Monkey. Marcus glanced in the boy’s direction just in time to see Mrs. Westland pull her sword out of Monkey’s shoulder as he crumbled to the ground.

Heart in his throat, Marcus focused back on Simon just as the fool lunged for his chest. Isabelle screamed again. Marcus jumped away, the blade barely nicking his shirt. Mrs. Westland laughed and joined the swordplay. Gabe limped toward Marcus, calling out his name before throwing another saber his way. Marcus caught it, wielding a weapon in both hands.

As he moved back and forth with Simon and Mrs. Westland, Isabelle’s growing sobs wrenched his heart as she knelt over Monkey, trying to stop the flow of blood from the lad’s body. Marcus had fought several men at once before, but never being dizzy with a head wound. He prayed he would stay strong for her.

He kept the pace and fought them off the best he could, but soon their blows became stronger and he retreated to the far end of the stable. Mrs. Westland plunged her cutlass and sliced his leg, thankfully not deep. This gave him room to grab her arm and throw her into Simon’s path before he fell to the floor. At the same time, the man lunged for Marcus but instead, the tip of Simon’s sword pierced Mrs. Westland’s heart.

The woman gasped and glanced down at the blade still protruding from her chest. Her hands shook as she tried to grasp the weapon, but crumbled to the ground in a dead heap. Simon yelled a curse and pulled the blade from her body. Blood dripped from the steel. Hatred blazed from his watery eyes as he directed them toward Marcus.

“Yer goin’ to die now!”

As he raised his saber toward Marcus’ chest, a gunshot rang through the barn. Simon jerked forward as a bloody hole formed in his head. The man sank to the ground, motionless.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Marcus allowed his weak limbs to fall at his side. Isabelle walked slowly into view, still holding the smoking pistol. She kept her gaze on Simon as lines of anger creased her face.

“No need to fear. He’s dead, my darling,” Marcus said, motioning her closer.

She raised her eyes to Marcus, dropped her weapon, and rushed to him. Taking him in her arms, she sobbed against his chest. Marcus looked across the room to see Gabe assisting Monkey as they limped toward Marcus.

“I tole ya I was watchin’ yer back,” Monkey said, “but yer wife found the pistol on the floor and shot Simon before I could.”

Marcus chuckled and gave Monkey a wink. “You’ll make a wonderful highwayman someday.”

Gabe’s leg was tied with a ripped piece of Isabelle’s cloak. His first mate nodded. “I think we should get out of here before the unexpected soldiers arrive.”

“Splendid idea.” Marcus struggled to stand as Isabelle assisted him.

“Oh, I forget to tell ye,” Monkey said breathlessly. “David went to find our own soldiers. They will kill Napoleon’s men.”

“That’s the best news.” Marcus smiled.

“Marcus?” Isabelle asked. “I need you to know something.”

He stared into her amazing blue eyes—eyes that showed her love. “What is it, my love?”

“I want you to continue to support those men who want to protect Britain. It’s a good cause, and helping them has made you a better man.”

Happiness burst through his body and he tightened his arm around her. “Thank you. Those words mean the world to me.”

Love grew in his chest as his friends helped him outside. This was his family, and would always be here for him. All that was missing was a few children.

He grinned. That would come later, he was certain of it.