Dark Angel by Tracy Grant Read Free Book Online Page B

of Adela and the children. It wasn't so bad, Adela had once told Caroline, describing previous raids, as long as one cooperated with the soldiers and some semblance of order remained. Of course, it was worse if one was a woman alone. Suppose another Gazin had found his way to Adela's cottage? Caroline hesitated, wanting to see if Adela was all right, but Adam urged her forward.
    At last they reached the square where the street widened, merging with the courtyard of Señor Mendoza's tavern. A wagon was drawn up before the tavern, already half-filled with sacks and barrels and crates. Two soldiers were loading it with provisions that had been dumped haphazardly on the ground, and two others were wheeling more barrels out of the tavern door, while Señor Mendoza alternately protested and conciliated. One of the barrels had been smashed and was spilling good red wine onto the grimy cobblestones. A little farther off a thin man in the uniform of an officer stood talking to another of the soldiers. The soldier was turned away, but as they drew closer Caroline felt her blood chill and her throat tighten. It was Gazin.
    "Only to be expected," Adam murmured. He gave her shoulders a slight squeeze, then strode forward with an unquestioning air of authority. "You, sir," he said, addressing the officer and ignoring Gazin. "You're in charge here?"
    "That's him." Gazin rounded on Adam, his eyes filled with hatred and fury. "And that's the woman." He gestured toward Caroline. "She tried to kill me."
    Caroline tightened her arms round Emily, who shrank against her. Hawkins moved closer to them.
    "Captain St. Juste of the Lancers," Adam said, before the officer could ask for his credentials. "Might I know who has charge of this sorry excuse for a patrol?"
    "Dumont," the officer said automatically. "Lieutenant." He was young, scarcely older than Laclos, with straw-colored hair and pale blue eyes that were not quite focused. Caroline suspected he had been sampling the contents of Señor Mendoza's cellar.
    Dumont cleared his throat, as if unsure how to proceed. Adam intervened again. "Your men are out of control, Liuetenant. This one”—he gestured toward Gazin—“threatened this lady with the grossest indignities. When I tried to defend her, he drew a knife on me. And he had the impertinence to question my authority."
    "I've a right to question what I can't see, haven't I?" Gazin demanded. "We've no proof he's a captain. We haven't even any proof he's a soldier."
    Adam continued to look at Dumont and ignore Gazin. "Is this the way your men are accustomed to address you, Lieutenant?"
    "That's enough, Gazin," Dumont said sharply. He looked back at Adam. "The fact remains, sir, that we have no proof of your identity. And the lady—I believe she is English?"
    Adam was right, Caroline realized. Their only hope of victory lay in confrontation. "I never denied it," she said, walking forward. "My husband's death left me stranded here. Captain St. Juste has been kind enough to see to my comfort. I can only thank God that he happened to be with me when this monster burst into my cottage. Your men require a lesson in manners, Lieutenant."
    "Don't listen to her, Lieutenant," Gazin insisted. "She may talk like a lady but she's the one who took my gun."
    "Ah, yes." Adam turned to Hawkins, who pulled the gun from his pocket and held it out to Dumont. "I suggest you do not return it to him until he learns some of those manners Madame Rawley was talking about," Adam continued as Dumont took the gun.
    Before Dumont could respond, another of his soldiers dashed up, dragging a thin boy of about eleven by the arm. The boy glared defiantly at the circle of French soldiers, then stared in bewilderment as he caught sight of Caroline. It was Pablo Ruiz, whose mother was Adela's cousin. Caroline gave him what she hoped was a reassuring smile.
    "Throwing rocks, he was," the soldier told Dumont, trying to restrain the squirming boy. "Hit me in the back of the head and