A Midnight Dance (25 page)

Cursing his scruples, he barked out,
“One . . .”

“Sabine!” the witch exclaimed.
“Tell him!”

Her eyes glistened with tears. “He doesn’t deserve to have the silver back!” she said, her soft breasts rising and falling with her rapid breaths. “It’s ours. We need it more than he does!”

“Sabine, please,” Josette urged. “I’m scared.”

So was the blond bane of his existence. Her expression had changed to one of unadulterated heartbreak.

Seeing it struck him hard, momentarily unbalancing him from his intended course of action. He shoved aside his pang of pity with the same determination with which he fought against the physical hell in his side. A physical hell
she’d
caused.

“Three . . .”
he said pointedly.

“Sabine, I’m begging you,” the witch implored. “Isabelle’s death was difficult enough for you. The loss of those journals—”

“Stop it. Stop badgering me!” Sabine rubbed her brow with a trembling hand. “I’m trying to think.” Pure misery, the kind that consumed the spirit, reflected in the depths of her silver eyes—and resonated with him. At the moment she looked delicately feminine. Utterly vulnerable. Making the thought of setting the journal alight suddenly abhorrent.

Jésus-Christ!
He wasn’t going to be taken in by this act. She was nothing more than a corrupt pretender.

If she truly valued her sister’s journal, she’d stop him.

He tightened his jaw with renewed resolve.
“Four!”

One number left.
Dieu
, she had better break.

Sabine’s entire world narrowed to Isabelle’s beloved journal—perilously close to the fire.

Her chest was so tight, she could barely breathe. The thought of it being destroyed was tearing her apart.

On its pages were Isabelle’s very heart and soul. She didn’t want to lose any of her sister’s belongings on the floor . . . but her journal.
Oh, God
.
Not the journal
. She couldn’t lose that.

How could he be so heartless?

Because he’s an Aristo
. It was in his blood to be cruel.

Even if she did as he demanded, he might burn the journal out of spite.
Do something
.
Think!
There was no escaping suffering—with either choice. If she surrendered the silver, he’d win. She and her family would lose. Including Isabelle.

There was no doubt he was planning to use the wealth to ascend back into the aristocracy. And he’d likely succeed. Why should he get to rebuild his life when he’d leveled hers?

“You are the devil,” she whispered, unable to command the full force of her voice as she tottered under the weight of her anguish.

“This is your final warning,” he responded, unmoved by her plight, indifferent to her words. “WHERE IS MY FUCKING SILVER!”

A tear slipped down her cheek. Then another. Dear God, no. She dropped her chin and swallowed hard, horrified by the tears, fighting against the emotions that threatened to overtake her. She couldn’t allow the wall she’d imprisoned her grief behind to fall. She’d never survive such emotional calamity.

“Very well,” he ground out from between clenched teeth. “You leave me no choice.”

Her gaze shot up to his.
Oh, no
. . .

“Fi-”

“STOOOOOOP!”
The cry pierced the air, so loudly it ricocheted off the walls and left Sabine’s ears ringing. Choking on a sob, she turned, confused, unsure where it came from.

Josette.

She was on her knees, one hand against her chest, the other extended toward Jules. “I’ll tell you where the silver is! Please don’t!”

“Bring her here,” Jules ordered.

“Just a minute now!” Louise protested and stepped forward, only to be pushed back by one of Jules’s men.

Two of his men caught Josette under each arm, easily lifted her to her feet, and brought her to stand before him. Josette wept so hard, she needed the men to hold her up.

“So you know where the silver is, Josette?” Jules asked.

Josette nodded her head vigorously. “Y-Yes. I’ll tell you but . . . please . . . leave Isabelle’s things be.”

Sabine closed her eyes briefly. Normally bossy and petulant, Josette had never behaved this way. Never cared about anyone else’s things but her own. She’d no idea what had gotten into her. And the girl was making a huge mistake. “Josette, you cannot trust him. You mustn’t—”

“Quiet!” Jules cut her off.

It was as if she hadn’t spoken at all; Josette blurted out, “Sabine made us each a pouch of silver coins for our own keeping and the rest—”

“Josette!” Sabine exclaimed.

“Was buried.”

Louise stepped forward. “My lord, we’ll return your silver, but please, once you have it, I beg of you, show mercy.”

“Mercy? You want consideration?” Jules’s voice was flat. “How about I show you the same consideration you showed me and my men?”

His forbidding words sent a cold streak down Sabine’s spine.

Turning to Marc, Jules said, “Take Josette. She is going to show us where the silver is buried. Serge and Fabrice, you come as well. Bruno, you and Daniel watch the others. They are forbidden to speak. Not a word is to be exchanged among them.” He walked past Sabine, though not with the angry strides she would have expected. Oddly his gait was slower, and she thought his breathing sounded quicker and shallower, too.

Leaning against a large oak tree, clutching his side, Jules could still hear the young girl’s shriek echoing in his head. A bead of sweat trickled down his back. The pain in his side was so sharp it took concerted effort to keep his own howls contained.

Before him was the large rock his men had moved and the hole in the ground they had dug. But there was no trace of the chest. Or a single silver piece to be found.

He cursed both his weakness for women with blond hair and fate for pushing Sabine Laurent into his path.

Raymond, Marc, and Fabrice approached.

“We’ve interrogated each of them separately, as you ordered, Commander,” Marc reported.

“And?” His voice was rough.

“And on comparing their stories, they each tell the same one—without any deviation whatsoever: Two chests are heading to Paris to be melted into coins resembling those of the realm, and the other was buried here under the rock. Each became distraught when they learned the chest was missing. In fact, all insisted we were lying about the missing chest.”

“Do you think we can trust their answers, given that they are actors, Commander?” Fabrice asked.

“The two girls are not,” Raymond said.

Marc nodded. “I questioned them personally. I think they’re all telling the truth.”

“Who could have taken the silver?” Fabrice inquired.

“No one had any idea.” Marc looked dismayed. “As I said, they were quite incredulous and stunned over the fact that the silver is missing.”

“Perhaps a band of wanderers saw them bury it and stole it?” Fabrice offered.

“Perhaps,” Jules conceded. “But then again, it could have been someone known to them. It doesn’t matter. The silver can be traced. It will be dark soon. At the first light, Serge and Bruno will begin with the closest town, making inquiries to see if anyone has spent even a coin. We’ll find the treasure. As for the other chests, two of us will ride to Paris, while the other two stay here, just in case. I’ll send Daniel to fetch Luc. My brother is waiting for me in the town of Clouquet. He’ll have more men with him who can help search for the silver.”

“Why not simply wait here for the group traveling to Paris to return? Sooner or later they’ll come back for their family. No?” Fabrice asked.

“And leave our silver in the hands of an actor and two boys longer than necessary?” Jules shook his head. “Never. We ride in the morning.”

“Commander, a private word with you, if I may?” Raymond requested. Jules nodded. The others stepped away.

Raymond lowered his voice. “My lord, you’re in no shape to ride.”

“I’m not staying here.”

“I don’t see that you have a choice. If you don’t allow your ribs to heal, you run the risk of developing—”

“Enough, Raymond. I’ll have a night’s rest. I’ll be fine in the morning.” His body instantly balked at his words. He wasn’t entirely certain he could even stand by morning, much less get on a horse.

“My lord, regaining the silver quickly is your goal. Order Marc and Fabrice to ride to Paris. They can travel faster than you, given your state. I’ll stay here and attend to your needs. Forgive me, but it did take days longer to get here than it should have because of your injury.”

“Merde.”
Jules raked a hand through his hair. He hated it that Raymond was right. The frequent rests had eaten up time, though he’d pushed himself beyond what most men would have been able to endure suffering from a similar affliction.

Given the condition of his ribs, he couldn’t ride as fast as Marc and Fabrice. And he knew the longer it took his ribs to heal, the greater his risk of developing lung fever.

But,
Jésus-Christ
, stay
here
?

Under the same roof as this corrupt lot?

He’d have to sleep with one eye open.

Jules insisted on walking into the house without assistance. Though by the time he’d crossed the field and the threshold, he could barely hold himself upright. Upon entering, he noted the home was still in disarray from the search and that the Laurent lot were seated near the hearth, looking stricken. Josette wept softly. Bruno, Serge, and Daniel stood guard.

Jules caught Sabine’s gaze.

Her expression of distress quickly turned perplexed when she noted his irregular gait. He thought he saw concern flash in her eyes, but dismissed it as he concentrated on breathing and walking toward the room to the left off the common room as normally as possible. The bed inside beckoned him. Raymond directly behind him, Jules entered the bedchamber, grateful there was one on the main floor.

“Turn down the quilt. See if there are any fleas,” Jules ordered. Though given his state, even if there was an infestation, he doubted he could have resisted the urge to lie down.

“It looks very clean,” Raymond said, having pulled back the bedcovers.

Jules lowered himself onto the edge of the bed, refusing Raymond’s help. He tried to pull off his shirt, but couldn’t lift his arm without pain ripping across his side. He swore viciously. “Get this binding off me, Raymond. It feels like a vise!” He couldn’t breathe, and the pain was making him impatient and irritable.

“Of course, my lord.” Unfazed, Raymond removed Jules’s shirt then undid the knot and deftly unraveled the binding from around his ribs. When it was off, Jules took in a breath and let it out slowly.

The door opened and slammed shut.

Furious that one of his men would dare intrude so rudely, Jules looked up to see who was about to receive the full brunt of his ire.