Page 53 of Tempting the Marquess

Samantha almost stumbled. That had sounded like a note of envy in Alexander’s voice. Perhaps England’s coldest and most rigid nobleman was ready for a little warmth and excitement in his own life? Heaven knew, he wouldn’t get it from the museum he lived in. Or the House of Lords.

When William returned, she would make a point of discussing the matter with him. Everyone deserved to find love. Even dukes.

* * *

Calais

It wasthe perfect evening for dark deeds.

Uneasy as hell, William sat crouched on the Calais docks and waited for the signal. Even though the days were hot, the ocean breezes made the nights cool on the coast, and the urge to stand up, stomp his feet, and rub his arms to keep warm was almost unbearable. The wind did offer one benefit, though—it lifted some of the stench away. The combination of old produce, spilt oil, and rotting fish would turn even the most cast-iron of stomachs; he’d begun to feel a little lightheaded because of the deliberately shallow breaths he’d been taking.

Another potential punishment for White, righthere.

At least he’d be back in England soon. Maybe not as himself, but a month or two pretending to be David Underwood was a small price to pay for Samantha’s safety. Then, once incontestable evidence had been secured against Claremont and the bloody bastard had been brought down for good, William Hastings would be insisting that Samantha Buchanan become the Marchioness of Standish. If insisting didn’t work, he was willing to plead. Whatever it took to secure their future together. Because a future of warmth and affection with Samantha rather than Home Office intrigues was heady indeed. No secret meetings, impossible assignments, or impromptu visits to hostile countries, just the comparatively simple life of being a marquess, husband, and father.

He was ready to try for happiness. The past month apart from Samantha had clarified his mind, and he couldn’t imagine marriage to any other woman.

Movement caught his eye, a faint lit torch flickering off the rocks and making a figure-eight. Finally, the signal. Hurrying as best he could in the gloomy darkness, William returned to where Robert sat with two soldiers from his unit and whistled softly.

The colonel glanced over and dropped the thin woolen blanket draped around his shoulders. “Our transport has arrived?”

“Yes. Not quite a luxury yacht, but it will get us out to the ship, which I believe belongs to your brother. The journey home will be pleasant, at least. Now, I’m going to lift you up and carry you to the rowboat, all right?”

“I can walk, thank you,” Robert snapped.

“Perhaps, but you’re still a long time away from charging into battle, and I would like to return home before everyone forgets what I look like. Not to mention we’re currently surrounded by hundreds of Frenchmen who, given the opportunity, would no doubt love to swoop in and capture the renowned Colonel Langley and finish off what their brethren started.”

Robert scowled, his frustration obvious even in the low light provided by an oil lamp, but he nodded curtly and dismissed his men. William then carefully hefted the soldier’s wasted, heavily bandaged body over his shoulder and carried him down a rocky path to the beach, his gaze constantly flicking left and right as he waded into the cool water.

When would the fake ambush begin? Hopefully White’s men would have the sense to let him settle Robert in the boat before they started whatever they were going to do. Sure, they had to be realistic if this Bedlamite plan was to work, but the mission would only be successful if everyone left in one piece.

Leaning down, he placed Robert into the small vessel bobbing gently with each break of the incoming tide, and the two oarsmen immediately saluted. With one last look up and down the deserted shoreline, William began to push the boat back into deeper water. He strained and heaved, helping it forward, and the oarsmen steered with smooth, sure strokes which skimmed the rolling waves with gentle splashes.

“We are deep enough now, Standish,” Robert growled, his frequent glances toward the open, unprotected beach speaking volumes about his unease. “Hurry up…and get in theboat.”

“Eager for cold meat pasties and warm ale, arewe?”

“After years of army rations, that would be quite a treat.”

“Very well then, your highness, I—”

CRACK.

The first rifle shot rang out like a thunderbolt, but it wasn’t until the wooden edge of the rowboat splintered mere inches from his hands that he understood the game. Oh, for God’s sake. The bloody idiots had decided realistic meant shooting a genuine bullet so close to him he’d practically felt a wind brush his face? Breaking each of White’s toes wouldn’t nearly be enough. Nothing less than castration would donow.

“Christ!” said William. “Ambush! Getdown!”

In the space of a few minutes, two more bullets whined overhead, ricocheting off the boat and spattering into the water. The oarsmen swore, clearly aware they were an easy target as they fought against the current and the waves wanting to shove them back toward the beach. Robert moved from his wooden seat to kneel in the hull, his face twisting in pain as he reachedout.

“Standish,” Robert barked, then coughed. “Give me your hand…and get in the...fuckingboat!”

“No! Save yourselves! Get out of here,” he replied, pushing the boat as hard as he could. Not needing to be told twice, the oarsmen began a frantic dip and glide, and the boat pulledaway.

“Standish!”

Pretending not to hear his friend’s cry, William turned and swam back toward the beach. The marksmen would be getting a piece of his mind when he got to them; realistic was one thing, but they had been dangerous and bloody irresponsible. What if he’d actually beenhit?

The moon came out from behind a cloud just as he reached thigh-deep water, giving everything an unnatural pearly glow. Staggering out of the waves, his limbs cramped and his clothing a heavy hindrance, William knelt to get his breath back. When he looked up, another bullet whizzed past, grazing his shoulder and hissing as it hit the wetsand.