Page 14 of The Pirate’s Stolen Bride (Cavalier Cove)

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

A COCK AND BULL ESCAPE

R émy barely twitched when the hatch to his cellar prison scraped open. Light poured down the stairwell.

He sat up straight when two women darted down, holding their skirts.

“What is this?”

“We are breaking you out. This is Miss Penfirth, Viscount Prescott’s cousin. She stole his key. We’re coming to save you!”

His heart swelled, yet his stomach sank.

“Mon cher, I cannot allow you to do this.”

Harriet ignored him, sticking the key into the lock and twisted. “I won’t let them hang you.”

She got the stubborn old lock open with help from her companion, a statuesque brunette with an air of patient reserve. A friend? He realized how little he knew about Harriet’s life.

“You don’t have any say in the matter,” he told her as she threw herself into his arms. Rémy stroked her hair, inhaling in her warm, sweet scent and thinking wistfully of the life they wouldn’t have together. “I knew this was coming, Harriet. I have no regrets about taking you”—roses bloomed in her cheeks when she understood his double meaning—“but now, for your own safety, I must set you free.”

He kissed her, cutting off any protest. Harriet squirmed. She pulled him closer, then gave him a good hard shove.

“Rémy Desmarais, stop being so self-sacrificing. I still want to marry you. Are you going to get out of that cell and make good on your promise to elope with me or not?”

A grin split his face.

“When you put it that way, marrying you is a far superior fate to a hangman’s noose.”

“If you have concluded your lover’s quarrel, we ought to be going. Quickly,” said Miss Penfirth.

The three of them darted to the stairs and climbed them as quickly as they dared—only to discover their path blocked by a broad-shouldered, well-dressed man.

“This is why you wanted my key, Clarissa? To aid a known criminal?”

“‘Criminal’ is a bit hypocritical of you, isn’t it, cousin?”

A muscle in Viscount Prescott’s jaw ticked. “The Frenchman’s been breaking the law for years.”

“So? You’re his biggest buyer. I know you’re doing it for the good of the family, but you’re also taking advantage of a man who has helped make rebuilding your fortune possible. If the Frenchman should hang, then so should you,” said Clarissa, lifting her chin.

Rémy tucked Harriet close beside him and bent to whisper, “Miss Penfirth has a steel spine.”

Harriet smiled. The viscount’s gaze cut to her, and Rémy watched her throat work as she swallowed nervously. “You truly want to marry a lowborn smuggler?” asked the nobleman.

“More than anything.” Her grip on his arm never wavered. After a sharp glance at Rémy, Prescott relented.

“I will pretend I saw nothing and that the key to my old wine cellar was in my possession all evening. You must find a way to escape the Riders and make your way back to France, without your boat.”

“I know someone who can help us,” Rémy said.

Clarissa passed the key to its owner and touched Prescott’s arm. “Thank you.”

“In my study,” he ordered. Clearly, they were not finished arguing, but Rémy had no time to waste on a stranger’s plight. He seized Harriet’s hand and together they ran into the night.

Harriet skipped and jumped half the way into Cavalier Cove. Crickets sang and the wind rustled the tall grasses growing by the side of the road. The moon hung low and bright overhead.

Free.

She couldn’t remember ever feeling so happy in her life.

“Harriet,” Rémy stopped her in the middle of the road. “Come what may, I want you to know you are my sun and my moon. The wind in my sails, the ground I kiss when I return safely home from a voyage. I would kidnap you a thousand times if it meant spending a single hour with you.”

He snatched a long piece of grass growing on the side of the road and fashioned it into a circle. Dropping to one knee, he said, “We are without a priest to bless our union, yet I ask you to be my wife in the eyes of God, if not the law.”

“Yes, Rémy. I love you. We are going to have the most amazing life together.”

He slid the makeshift ring onto her finger and dragged her in for a kiss.

They were interrupted by an irritable honk and the rumble of wagon wheels on packed dirt. The road was still muddy in places from the rain, but this vehicle avoided the deep ruts and cut straight down the center.

“Move,” shouted the rude driver.

Reluctantly, they parted and stepped aside to let it pass by. They turned to continue on their way to the village, but they didn’t make it more than a few steps before the carriage stopped.

A balding man with a cravat tied so high on his throat that he bore an odd resemblance to a giraffe leaned out.

“Miss Harriet Turner?” he demanded. “What are you doing outside at this time of night?”

Wild laughter bubbled inside her and burst out. “Lord Lucarran,” she called out, and dropped into a deep curtsey. “I regret to inform you that you are too late. The wedding is off!”

She raised her left hand to display the grass ring. Rémy pulled her away.

“We haven’t made our escape yet, chérie. We still have to make it to France before we are safe.”

Right. Harriet ran as fast as she could, pell-mell down into the village, scattering geese as they charged through the sleepy town square. The honking birds in turn drew attention from people inside the tavern, where the glow from the windows spilled onto the cobblestone streets.

Behind them, wagon wheels rattled. They turned to find Lord Lucarran’s coach bearing down on them. Lord Montague sat beside the driver, his face twisted with fury.

“No,” breathed Harriet. She exchanged a worried glance with Rémy. “How did they get here so quickly?”

“Your uncle must have been chasing after us.” His expression hardened. Raising his hands, he made a menacing gesture at the white birds until the entire flock of geese was hissing and spitting with ire. “We won’t make it to Thierry’s in time.”

Rémy grabbed Harriet’s hand and dragged her into the Cock and Bull Tavern, where the entire misadventure had begun. Inside, a startled Rider did a double-take.

“Stop that man! He is under arrest by orders of His Majesty.” He pointed at them.

“I am honored to be worthy of your king’s notice,” Rémy deadpanned. “Maggie, the caves?”

The barmaid was again polishing a tankard as if she’d never moved from her station. “This lot blocked them off, but you know the secret way.” She winked. The Rider nearly fell out of his chair trying to chase after them, but Maggie grabbed his beer and poured it over his head, stalling him.

“Go!” she shouted.

Harriet glimpsed her disheveled uncle bursting through the door with an oddly charming tinkle of the bell above it, followed by a glowering Lord Lucarran who was fending off a goose with his silver-headed cane. Feathers flew when his strike landed. She clapped her hand over her mouth.

The bird had its revenge immediately. It clamped onto his trousers, right in the crotch. The earl’s face turned ashen, and Uncle Monty was forced to help him evade the rest of the angry flock.

“Time to go,” Rémy said. He scooped her up and tossed her over his shoulder, heading past the storage area into the same closet where he’d first taken her hostage. Harriet couldn’t stop laughing. The entire escape was so ridiculous and undignified.

But it worked.

Inside the natural passageway cut by time and waves into the cliffside, Rémy set her on her feet. Panting, they burst into the cave and found Benoit waiting for them.

“Thierry m’a dit que tu aurais peut-être besoin d’aide.” He grinned. The men grasped one another’s forearms and Rémy leaped into the dinghy. He held out his hand to Harriet and translated. “Benoit says he thought we might need help when he overheard Leacham bragging to Maggie about capturing me.”

“You come willingly this time?” asked Benoit.

“Very,” she answered, settling beside Rémy on the bench seat. “I am his willing accomplice in every adventure henceforth. I choose him, today and always.”

“Bien,” Benoit grunted and pushed off, paddling quickly toward the opening. “That will make it easier not to capsize the boat.”

As they made their way out to sea, a cluster of men burst into the cave, shouting and pointing. Harriet tucked herself close to Rémy’s side and waved goodbye to her uncle, grinning.

Slowly, the duke’s fury faded. A reluctant smile tugged at his mouth. Leacham spat curses into the distance between them. Whatever had happened to his pistol, he didn’t appear to have it with him now. She was sure he would have tried to shoot at them if he did.

The Duke of Montgomery put his palm between the Rider’s shoulder blades and sent him toppling into the sea.

Rémy chuckled. “He deserved that.”

Under the glow of the moon, they rowed out to sea, leaving Cavalier Cove behind forever?—

Almost.