Beyond a Doubt

chapter Forty-Nine




An arm snaked about her middle. A scream filled her throat but she was silenced by a pair of lips pressed to her own. At first she fought the kiss, kicking her legs, baring her nails, but the kiss only deepened. Lucy panicked as her attacker walked her away from the entry.

Once completely outside, the assailant stepped away. She pulled back her arm and opened her palm. A loud smack echoed around the stone balcony, yet he still held her in place.

“I guess I deserved that.”

“Bryce,” she said, her voice sounding breathless with shock.

“Aye. I hope no other has been kissin’ ye?”

The sound of his voice filled her with joy and her heart soared. Leaning back she studied his attire. He was dressed like a French gentleman. Confused, Lucy asked, “What are you doing here?”

His arms held her tight as he spoke. “For such a small lass, ye pack a mean slap.”

“Bryce, please. How did you find me?”

“By God’s grace.”

“What?”

“By accident. I wasn’t expectin’ to see ye here, although I believe Emissary knew all along.”

“What? What are you babbling about?”

“My horse. Never mind, you wouldn’t believe me anyway.” His arms dropped to his sides. Bryce walked to the balcony’s railing and gazed out over the moonlit water. The wind blew across the small fountain nestled in the midst of the flower garden. The huge stone structure, imposing and daunting, only exhibited beauty when the moonlight reflected upon the water’s glassy top.

To see Bryce, to be this close to him, was a huge relief. If given half a chance she would soon be lying on his broad shoulder, seeking comfort. If only he knew how happy she was to see him.

Then his parting words floated through her mind. “Your horse? Bryce, you must stop talking in riddles. I’m here to meet the Admiral. I don’t have time for all this absurd banter.”

Turning, his face changed into a smile. “Ye think mighty highly of yer time.”

“Bryce, I know—“

“Save yer explanations. The truth is, I tried to go home but me horse wouldn’t have it. First the thing left me. Then she led me to a boat and made me cross the Channel. Purely by a miracle, Jean Broussard bumped into me and invited me here. And now ye are here as well. It’s staggering.”

“Indeed.”

“And what are ye doing here?”

A certain amount of anger radiated from Bryce. Lucy knew she’d hurt him, but right now she didn’t have time to assuage his bruised ego.

“Admiral Coligny is here. And I’m here to give him the message.”

“Oh.” He raised an eyebrow, and she realized she had to elaborate before he shook it out of her.

“I went through a lot of trouble to arrange the invitation to this celebration. I should probably go inside and find him.”

Turning her back, she readied to accomplish her task. One foot across the threshold, she stopped. A thundering noise echoed. Bryce grabbed her and pulled her back onto the balcony. Together they huddled against the curtains and peered inside.

A group of French soldiers entered. The men stood in a line. One uniformed man advanced and unfurled a long paper.

Jean Broussard stepped forward in response, his voice rising in agitation. “What is the meaning of this?”

Lucy trembled as she remembered a similar scene that ended in a man's death. Bryce whispered in her ear, “Are ye all right?”

Between clenched teeth, she replied, “I don’t know yet.”

Inside the house, the King’s officer responded to Jean. “By decree of King Henry II, you are ordered to turn over Lucille Lombard.”

“Who?” asked Jean, arching his brow.

The soldier rolled the parchment and handed it to another. He clicked his heels and slapped his palms together as his men straightened to attention. “Monsieur, I understand your unwillingness to turn over a guest, but I assure you she will be returned.”

Lucy shuddered and leaned against Bryce, only guessing at the condition in which she would be returned.

Jean responded, “May I inquire as to the offense of this woman?”

“I’m afraid that is none of your concern. Now I must insist—“

“Charles, what are you doing here?”

“Admiral, I—“

Charles? Did he say Charles? Lucy peered around the drape’s edge and, sure enough, there he was — Charles Dubois, dressed in soldier’s garb and speaking on behalf of the crown. This was bad, very bad.

“Gaspard, do you know this man?” asked Jean.

“Indeed I do. He is under my command.”

“Then perhaps you can instruct him to leave,” said Jean, crossing his arms over his chest in defiance.

“Perhaps. But first I might inquire as to his mission.”

“Sir, forgive me, but I’ve been ordered to keep the mission silent. Yet I must insist you release Lucille Lombard to my care.”

“Jean, we must comply,” said the Admiral.

The words sent Lucy’s heart racing with fear. Bryce’s hand covered her mouth. He whispered, “We have to get out of here.”

Lucy shook her head.

“Ye can warn the Admiral later. Right now we need to leave.”

Body nestled against his, she allowed him to pull her to the balcony’s edge. Once there, he hoisted himself over the side. One floor above the ground, the drop looked lofty. But once he reached the ground, he urged her to jump. With a final glance behind her, Lucy dropped silently, landing in Bryce’s arms.