No Longer a Gentleman by Mary Jo Putney Read Free Book Online Page B

the door opened. He was thin, white haired, and ragged, but Grey would have known him anywhere by the calm wisdom in his face.
    “Grey.” The priest smiled luminously as he stretched out a hand. “At last we meet in person.”
    “Meet and escape, courtesy of this lady here.” Grey took his friend’s hand and pulled him to his feet. “We must move quickly. Can you manage?”
    The priest swayed and would have fallen without Grey’s support. He exhaled roughly. “I fear not. You must go without me. Better you escape than all of us be captured.”
    “No!” Grey slid his arm around Laurent’s waist. The older man was just skin and bones, seeming so fragile that he might break, but once again, human touch was a pleasure deeper than words could describe. “I leave with you or not at all.”
    Cassie frowned. “Père Laurent is right. We must escape from the castle, avoid pursuit across France, and travel back to England. The good father doesn’t look as if he can climb the stairs.”
    “I’ll carry him!” Grey spat out.
    “He is very stubborn,” the priest said mildly to Cassie. “But if we can get away from the castle, I can be left safely with a niece while you two run for your lives.”
    “Very well.” Her eyes were worried. “But we must move quickly. Sergeant Gaspard could return at any moment.”
    As Père Laurent reached out and touched the blood cross in a gesture of farewell, Grey hissed under his breath, “I hope the devil does return.”
    Luckily Cassie the Fox didn’t hear him.
     
     

Chapter 11
     
     
    Cassie’s instincts were screaming that they must move faster as she led the way down the passage, and those instincts had saved her life several times over. But with Wyndham half carrying the priest, they moved slowly. She wondered if he’d be strong enough to carry Père Laurent up the stairs after years of abuse and inadequate food.
    Her unease spiked when she heard irregular footsteps ahead. At a guess, a man descending to the guardroom. “Someone’s coming,” she said in a low voice.
    She was reaching for her concealed knife when Wyndham said with icy menace, “Gaspard. That’s the sound of his peg leg. Here, take Père Laurent.”
    Wyndham caught up with Cassie and transferred the priest’s weight. She automatically took Père Laurent’s other arm so he wouldn’t fall. Which meant her knife hand wasn’t free.
    Before she could protest, Wyndham swept past her with an expression so savage she was stunned to silence. He moved like a wild beast that had been released from a cage, his loping stride taking him to the guardroom in seconds.
    The peg-legged man appeared in the door at the bottom of the stairs. His jaw dropped as he saw a prisoner racing toward him. “Merde!”
    Snarling curses, Gaspard pulled a pistol from his greatcoat. Before he could cock and aim the weapon, Wyndham was on him with a growl that was barely human.
    There was an audible snap as Wyndham broke Gaspard’s neck. The sergeant dropped like a puppet whose strings had been cut. The end had come so quickly it couldn’t even be called a fight.
    Cassie must have made some sound because Père Laurent said quietly, “I am not a violent man. But I will say that Gaspard got less than he deserved.”
    Reminding herself that Wyndham would have learned Hindu fighting skills at the Westerfield Academy, Cassie swallowed her shock. But as she supported the priest along the last stretch of the passage, she wondered if she’d released a mad wolf to run wild.
    By the time they reached the guardroom, Wyndham had pulled the dead man out of the stairwell and was rapidly stripping off his clothing. “Père Laurent, these garments will keep you warmer,” he said tersely.
    A practical man, Wyndham. Cassie said, “I put the guard behind the desk. He should still be unconscious. He’s taller so his clothing would be a better fit for you. Just don’t kill him, please.”
    Wyndham piled Gaspard’s garments on the chair, then