A Scoundrels Kiss by Shelly Thacker

Author:Shelly Thacker [Thacker, Shelly]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2020-12-08T16:00:00+00:00

Armand held his breath and kept his face turned aside as D’Avenant walked past him. Right past him. Inches away. Mais alors, their shoulders almost touched.

Gripping the mug of ale he had just purchased, Armand subdued a murderous urge to knock the Englishman to the floor and beat him senseless.

The anger he had felt while watching the cozy little scene outside had blazed to furious heights when he stepped through the door just in time to see the bastard kiss Marie.

Taking a swallow of ale, he slid his gaze to the right, watching the English spy. Where was he going? Armand felt for his pocket watch and flicked a glance down at it. He had only minutes before Chabot and Holcroft and the rest came charging in. Fifteen minutes. He had wasted the first five, too blinded by outrage to think.

But he was thinking now. And watching the black-garbed figure move through the crowd. That greatcoat no doubt concealed a weapon. Or two or three. It would be mercifully convenient if D’Avenant and the soldiers outside could keep one another occupied.

Armand was trying to devise some way to bring that about—when D’Avenant went out a door at the back of the room.

Blinking in surprise, Armand simply stared for a second, unable to believe his good luck. The Englishman was headed straight into the welcoming muskets of Chabot’s marksmen.

And Marie was alone.

Mon Dieu! Not pausing to thank God for his good fortune, Armand left his mug of ale on the counter and rushed over to his sister’s table.

She was filling an empty cup from a carafe in her hand and didn’t notice him until he was right next to her.

“Marie.”

She looked up with a startled expression, setting the carafe down with a metallic clang.

There was no light of recognition in her eyes. Only fear.

“It’s me,” he said urgently, quickly. “Armand. Your brother Armand. Don’t you remember me?”

She went pale. Standing up, she quickly backed away.

“Marie,” he said helplessly. Sacrèment, he had hoped that seeing him would bring her memory back. “I’m not going to hurt you. I’m your brother. We have to get out of here. Now.”

She came up against the wall, looking around wildly. But he had her trapped. The tavern was noisy and dimly lit—and D’Avenant had chosen the darkest corner.

They hadn’t attracted attention. Yet. He moved closer and reached for her hand. “You have amnesia, Marie. Because of the carriage accident. But you have to believe me. I’m your brother, Armand LeBon. I’ve come here to rescue you.”

“I c-can’t understand you!” She tried to pull her hand away. “M-my husband is coming right back!”

“He’s not your husband,” Armand whispered harshly. “He’s an English spy. His name is Lord Maximilian D’Avenant. He kidnapped you and he’s taking you to England. Whatever he’s told you is a lie, Marie. Now we have to leave—”

“No! No, I won’t—”

“Marie, I don’t have time to explain.” Armand shifted his grip to her wrist. “You have to come with me.”

She struggled against his hold and opened her mouth as if to scream.

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