Closer To Sin (9 page)

‘Putain,’ he spat. ‘You will pay for that. No woman lays a hand on me, and no woman takes my blood.’ His breath washed over her in fetid tide of decay.

Liliane shrunk back from the venom in his voice. Surely someone would notice what was happening to her and put a stop to it. Except the altercation had erupted into a full brawl. The sound of grunts and groans as fists pounded flesh assaulted her ears. Her vision momentarily altered and panic clawed its way into her throat as she started to breathe in rapid, shallow gasps.

Liliane cringed further against the wall and felt the pressure of something sharp digging into her hip.
May the fates forgive me
. She slid shaking fingers into the pocket of her pelisse and wrapped her hand around the knife’s grip, grateful for the afterthought that had prompted her to conceal the weapon in her gown. Slowly, she released the knife from its sheath and dragged it from her pocket.

The bone handle felt sturdy and reassuring in her hand. She raised her chin and slowly straightened her shoulders, drawing her right arm backwards. Her heart drummed hard against her ears, drowning out the roar of the brawling mob. Determinedly, she positioned the blade hard against his ribs. Alert to her movement her captor made eye contact with her.

Lilian smiled. ‘I suggest, vermin, you let me go.’ She pushed the knife a little harder against him. ‘Or you will find yourself bleeding all over this tavern floor. And by the look of things right now, I doubt anyone would care. Now step away from me.’

Before he could make any response, the man was roughly shoved from behind. The force of the push flattened him against her, slamming him onto the knife. Liliane felt her hand being wedged between their bodies. The hilt of the knife tore at her the soft flesh of her palm while the blade sliced through her assailant’s clothing and sunk into his skin, glancing off the ribs below. Blood streamed through his thin shirt coating her hand with its sticky warmth before spreading into a rapidly expanding stain. Still grasping the knife, Liliane pushed him from her. Acid streaked from her stomach into her mouth and, aghast, she vomited onto the floor. Beyond her the fight continued.

She dragged a sleeve across her mouth and ran. As she reached the doorway a hand grabbed her and hauled her through the opening.
Oh dear Lord, not again
. She fought against the steel grip that bowled her across the courtyard and through a door into a narrow, dimly lit corridor.

‘Mon Dieu, I leave you alone for one moment and you start a tavern brawl,’ a menacing voice growled against her ear.

‘Sin, oh thank God.’ Panicked, she sought to explain the last few terrifying moments. ‘I don’t know what happened. One moment I was walking through the tap room to meet you, and the next everyone was fighting. There was a man. He, he—’

‘He what,
mon fleur
?’ Sin prompted, his voice like ice.

Waving the knife, she searched for the words to describe what just happened. ‘He, he— I stabbed him. He had hold of me. He wouldn’t stop touching me.’ Panting deeply, she struggled to draw breath. ‘There was blood everywhere, I think I killed him—’ she sobbed.

Darting a quick glance along the corridor, Sin flung open the door to the private salon he had so hastily vacated, and unceremoniously shoved her into the room. Liliane swung around to face him but drew up short under his withering regard.

He coldly held out his hand. ‘Now give me that before we incur any further casualties.’

Reluctant to argue with him she meekly handed over the knife and allowed him to propel her to the corner of the room where a pitcher of water and a washbowl sat. ‘I suggest you tidy up first, and then you can start explaining.’

She plunged her hands into the bowl and beneath her vacant gaze the water changed to a dirty pink colour. Little tremors wracked her body but she made no other movement. With a sigh Sin moved closer and picked up the bar of soap sitting on the stand. Enfolding her hands in his, he gently washed away all traces of blood and carefully dried her hands with the accompanying cloth. Allowing the towel to drop to the floor he pulled her into his arms.

Shudders rippled through her as Liliane leaned into Sin and tried to absorb his strength and the heat from his body. More tears spilled from her eyes and traced a scalding path down her face. He pushed the hair back from her brow and traced the pads of his thumb across her eyelids, drying her tears.

Sin pulled her closer. ‘Ah,
mon fleur
, I apologise for yelling,’ he whispered against her hair. ‘But, tell me, how can you be sure that you killed a man? Did you see him lying in a pool of his own blood? Did you check to see if he was breathing?’

She shook her head. ‘No, I ran, but—,’ she drew in another shuddering breath. ‘—of course he’s dead, I stabbed him.’

‘I see.’ Sin ran a hand back through his hair and shot a look across the room. ‘Gaston, I would like you to meet Mademoiselle Beaumont, Liliane. Liliane is my escort on this trip.’ He turned back to Liliane. ‘This is my good friend Gaston Duval.’

Liliane gave a surprised hiccup as she noticed the large man rise from his chair before the fire and cross the room to greet her. She noticed his smile and his eyes were warm and comforting as he lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles. Instead of lowering it, he covered it with his other hand and looked into her eyes. After a moment he gave her a sympathetic smile.

‘You’ve caused quite a stir, Liliane.’ He patted her hand. ‘Come, sit down over here and catch your breath.’

Too mindless to argue, Liliane sat beside Gaston. He pushed a brandy into her hands. ‘Have a sip of this, it will help you to recover.’ He indicated toward Sin. ‘Sin will go and make some enquiries. Don’t believe for a minute that he was angry with you. Our Sin can be very possessive at times.’

Bewildered by that comment, Liliane was about to respond when a shout rang out from the inn yard. She looked towards the window. A bloodied giant of a man staggered through the door, bellowing with rage. ‘Whore, I will kill you for this, where are you?’

Sin glanced down at her, one eyebrow raised in query. ‘That wouldn’t happen to be the man you murdered, would it,
mon fleur
?’

Liliane turned away as another wave of nausea assailed her. She drew in a deep breath and counted slowly to ten, desperate not to disgrace herself in front of him. ‘Yes. That’s him.’

‘That’s quite a charming companion you found yourself,’ Sin commented flippantly. ‘I asked only that you remain inconspicuous while we are here. Instead, you appear to have incited a civil war and attempted to assassinate the local swineherd. Not bad for an hour’s work.’

Misinterpreting Sin’s tone, Liliane looked at him in disbelief. ‘Do you truly think I started that fight in there?’

From his post next to the window Sin turned and looked exasperatedly toward her. ‘I hardly know what to think. Let’s hope that when your friend sobers up in the morning he doesn’t decide to engage the assistance of the local gendarme and come looking for you. The last thing we need is to be on the run from an aggrieved citizen.’

‘That’s hardly fair.’

Gaston intervened. ‘Sin’s right, Liliane. You can’t afford to come to the attention of the authorities. But these men were just letting off steam and unfortunately you entered that tap room at precisely the wrong time.’ He looked towards Sin to stress his point. ‘I think you should make an early start in the morning.’ Sin turned from the window and nodded his head in agreement.

Liliane lifted the brandy glass to her lips and swallowed deeply. The liquid burnt a fiery path down her throat and did nothing to appease her discomposure. She shouldn’t have been so quick to have insulted Sin like that. She felt like they’d taken steps towards becoming friends today, and now her irrational response to his quip had probably destroyed any regard he had for her.

Sin and Gaston had removed to the dining table where they were conversing in lowered tones. She squared her shoulders. If there was ever a time to be humble, it was now. The men paused their conversation as she approached. She drew a breath and met Sin’s enquiring gaze. ‘I find that I owe you an apology, Sin. You didn’t deserve my accusations and I regret them immensely.’

Sin stood and came to stand before her. He reached out and grasped her hands, raising them to his lips. Gently, he placed a kiss on the knuckles of each hand. ‘I accept your apology,
mon fleur
. I think we were all a bit shaken by tonight’s events. It’s a timely reminder of how quickly circumstances can change.’

Liliane bit back the urge to cry; he was so unexpected. His consideration was warming and the knot in her stomach slowly began to unravel. She gave him a watery smile and sat down beside Gaston just as a knock at the door sounded.

At Sin’s bidding two serving maids entered the room and commenced laying out an assortment of wholesome dishes upon the table. Gaston lifted a cloche and smiled broadly. ‘Rabbit pie, excellent! The one thing my Anais cannot do is cook.’

Sin laughed and shook his head. ‘You don’t deserve her, you ingrate.’

Liliane watched the interaction between the two men with interest. They obviously had a long and enduring friendship.

It was late before Gaston finally said his farewells, refusing to depart until he had extracted a promise from Sin to visit after the baby had been born.

Liliane politely arose to farewell Gaston and found herself embraced in a bear hug. ‘Be strong little one, and keep a cool head. You and Sin will walk a rocky road, but stay true to your destination.’

As Sin closed the door Liliane puzzled over Gaston’s parting words. ‘What did he mean by that?’

Sin shrugged. ‘Pay him no heed, Gaston is just being fanciful. Let me escort you up to your room. We’ve an early start tomorrow and quite a few miles to cover.’

Liliane pulled her cloak tighter about her and hunched her shoulders against the sand blowing up from the dunes. She drew her horse to a halt next to Sin and surveyed the small town before them. ‘What is that place?’ she asked, gesturing towards the ancient fortified building protruding into the Channel. It sat in the estuary and the lower half of the structure was awash with waves and sea-spray.

Sin looked to where she was pointing. ‘Fort d’Ambleteus. It’s an old coastal battery, now one of Napoleons strongholds.’ He swept his hand along the stretch of coastline. ‘It was originally built in the seventeenth century on almost the same location that England’s King Henry VIII built his fortifications. Back when this was English territory.’

‘Oh my, and now Napoleon wants to use is as a base from which to launch his invasion of England. How ironic.’ Liliane studied the half-moon shaped structure with interest. From behind, it looked like a regular building, but viewed from the side, she could see a low semi-circular turret protruding into the churning ocean. In the centre was a tower where she assumed the cannon were stored. Quizzically, she looked at Sin. ‘That’s not the reason we’re here, is it?’

‘Not directly.’

She followed Sin’s gaze to the fields stretching south of the village and felt her face turn ashen. There had to be thousands of soldiers camped there. It was a hive of activity with men on horseback coming and going, others polishing cannons and undertaking rifle drill and yet more marching in formed squads. The road leading from the village to the campsite was busy with laden farmers’ carts and marching soldiers, each trying to manoeuvre around the other. It was a wonder the local providores could even meet the demands of such a vast army. She gripped the pommel on her saddle and tried to absorb the enormity of the campsite. ‘I thought we were going to maintain a low profile until we got to Boulogne.’

‘Well, provided you don’t try to assassinate Ambleteus’s local swineherd I think we can manage that.’ Sin shot her a grin and urged his horse forward to follow the road down onto the main street.

Liliane flushed scarlet. ‘Let’s hope he endeavours to keep his hands to himself then.’

Sin burst into laughter. Liliane absorbed the sound; there was something very comforting about its deep timbre.

‘What brings us here then?’ she prompted.

Sin reached inside his coat and pulled out a small notebook and momentarily flicked it open. He looked about and then pointed to a laneway. ‘Down that way,’ he instructed before returning the book to his pocket. ‘Gaston has a contact that may be able to tell us more about the Jacobins.’

A flicker of alarm arced through Liliane and her jaw clenched involuntarily. Grandpère had made reference to the Jacobins in his journal. Surely the contact wasn’t a member of the movement, and if he was, would he recognise the Beaumont name? ‘Sin,’ Liliane reached across and grasped his wrist.

He looked down at her hand. ‘Hmm?’

She tightened her hand on his wrist. ‘The man we are about to visit. What connection did he have to the Jacobins?’

Sin covered her hand with his own large one and looked at Liliane for several long moments. She resisted the urge to shift closer. The weight of his hand was solid and reassuring, a welcoming anchor that steadied her unease. How quickly she had come to trust in his strength.

‘You have to understand, while the Jacobins are held in contempt now, they attracted over a half-million members at the height of the movement. Basile Deneux was once an influential member of that movement. He was also involved in the last attempt to reorganise them.’

Liliane drew her hand back as though scorched.

‘Is something troubling you?’

She tried to ignore the sharp look Sin gave her. ‘No, I just wasn’t aware that there were any Jacobins left.’ And she certainly hadn’t been expecting to be making a house call on a former member of an organisation whose answer to social reform was to execute all who stood in their way. She thought back to Grandpère’s journal and Solange’s insistence that his work should continue. Perhaps this visit was an opportunity to learn more of the Jacobins and whether they intended to try and reform government again. Certainly Solange would be interested in whatever Liliane could learn today.

Sin drew his horse to a halt before a small stone cottage and dismounted. He then turned to Liliane and assisted her to do the same. ‘Come, let’s see what we can discover.’