She struggled to stand, but waves ofdizziness washed over her. She couldn’t tell if the boat was movingaway from the soldiers or if it was the simple movement of thewaves along the Seine. Were they stuck here waiting to be arrested?Elizabeth tried to find the will to care, to get up off of thefloor and help, but darkness descended.
“Lisette!” Why wasn’t sheresponding? He needed her help. He glanced to his left. Maurice,ducked low, unfurled another sail. The winter wind blew and theirspeed finally picked up. Unless they moved quicker, the soldierswould catch up to them. As it was, they could run along the shore,taking as many shots as their guns would allow while he was leftalone on deck. “Lisette!”
She didn’t even bother to answer. Shehad to have heard him. John glanced towards the stairs and hisheart seized for a moment. There was blood on the deck and more onthe top step. John fought the urge to go to her to see how badlyshe was wounded, but he couldn’t leave his post or he would be anopen target. He had long run out of ammunition, but inch byagonizing inch, their vessel was pulling away from the soldiers.Ahead was an island, and Maurice navigated along the right side,successfully blocking the soldier from view.
John scrambled below deck to findElizabeth crumpled on the floor. He lit the lantern and hung it ona peg above for better light. He could not see an injury throughher dark cloak, so he pushed it aside. Her black dress didn’t makethe task any easier. He moved his hands along her arms, then torso,until he touched warm liquid. Blood smeared his palm. He leaned incloser for a better look. There was a small tear in the material ofher dress on her left side. John tore it wider. The bullet hadentered just above her hipbone. He rolled Lisette to her side andshe moaned. As much as he hated to hurt her, he needed to see if ithad gone through or not.
There was no exit wound. He gentlylaid Lisette on her back. He pulled up her skirt and tore herchemise before he brought the material up and pressed it againsther wound. She needed a doctor now, but it was too dangerous tostop. All he could do was see to her comfort until they could findhelp.
John stared down at the pale face, thelight brown lashes brushed against her cheeks, the lips withoutcolor. Just moments ago he had been kissing those full lips. It wasthe only thing he could think of at the time that the soldierswould not think suspicious. He never dreamed a jolt of desire wouldstrike, heating his blood in a way it had not been heated in a verylong time. Had they not been in such dire straits, who knew howlong he would have stood there kissing her? Or what else he wouldhave attempted.
From the moment he met Lisette, he hadbeen attracted to her. Any healthy man would be upon looking intothose clear blue eyes and soft face with a complexion of cream.But, until a short while ago, he’d kept his attraction at bay andhis heart shielded, not allowing himself to consider her anythingmore than his partner working to stop Napoleon. They had a job todo, which did not include any form of intimacy. And given how thatone kiss had affected him, he was glad he’d never attempted itbefore. Lisette would have been too much of a distraction. Men hadgotten killed because of beautiful women. He now knew how easily itcould happen.
He studied her lips. Was the kissexceptional because of the danger, or was it exceptional because itwas Lisette? He needed to see that she recovered so he coulddetermine the truth, one way or another. Had this been anyone else,John would still have done anything and everything in his power tosee that they didn’t die. But the lady before him was thegranddaughter of the Duke of Danby—a man he did not want to anger.Nor did he want to have to face Edgeworth just yet. Not only wouldEdgeworth want to beat him to a bloody pulp for allowing Elizabethto be injured, but for kissing her as well.
No, that was a reunion he wanted nopart of.
Elizabeth woke to the gentle rockingof a boat and tried to focus on how she came to be here. A lanterngently swayed in the door leading to the upper deck. Not that thiswas a ship, or even a large boat for that matter, but the smallcabin beneath allowed for a narrow bed and smalldresser.
Had they gotten away? Theymust have or she would be in prison—not in Maurice’s bed.
Where was Jean Pierre and how did sheget in bed, anyhow? After reaching for the blanket, she pushed itaside to sit up and fell back onto the pillows with a groan. Nowshe remembered.
“Ah, you should not move,Lisette.” Jean Pierre was leaning down into the cabin, a wide grinon his face.
“I just determined thatmyself.” Heat rushed to her face. She was clothed only in herchemise, and she yanked the covers back up to her chin.
He took the three steps down andentered the room. “How are you feeling?” he asked before he placeda hand on her forehead, then her cheek.
“Tired and thirsty.” Sheattempted to lick her lips, but there was no moisture in hermouth.
He grinned wider. “The fever is gone.I was worried for a while.”
“Fever?”
His eyebrows wrinkled in worry. “Don’tyou remember being shot?”
The moment came back to her in aflash. “Vaguely. We escaped?”
“Barely.” Jean Pierresettled on the side of the bed, reached to the table, and pouredher a glass of water. He assisted her in sitting up. “Drink slowly.You haven’t had anything for two days.”
Two days? She had been unconscious fortwo days? The water was cool on her tongue, and she forced herselfnot to guzzle it all in one drink. Jean Pierre held her gently andpatiently while she took small sips until the glass was almostempty. After setting it back on the table, he placed pillows behindher so that she could recline instead of lying on
