What a Hero Dares. Kasey Michaels

smuggling vessel.

      But Max was alive. Against all information, against all hope, Max was alive. Even disguised, she’d always known him; how he walked, the tilt of his head.

      This changed everything.

      Her own head felt ready to explode with questions.

      She’d taken no more than a few steps before a grip very like iron closed around her arm and she was whirled about, going chest to chest with her unwanted rescuer, who apparently had more recovery power than she’d given him credit for. Again, she aimed a knee toward his crotch, but what had succeeded the first time was neatly countered this time.

      “Now, lass, where do you thinking you’d be heading in such a hurry?” the older man said, twisting her arm about to bring it up behind her. “Seems to me, tossing away your cloak and leaping in after the lad and me like you did? Smacks of concern, I’d say.”

      “Someone was firing on us. I was saving myself, you fool. He means nothing to me.”

      “Of course you were. Of course he doesn’t. He means nothing to either of us.”

      Zoé stopped struggling, knowing she didn’t have the power needed to escape this grinning old man. She hadn’t slept in days, couldn’t remember the last time she’d eaten. She’d expended nearly all of her energy making her way to shore; she simply had nothing left to fight with. She’d have to outthink him while formulating a better plan. There was always the knife in her boot, if she could only reach it, but she’d never killed for no reason, not if her wits could save her. “After you pushed him overboard, I would imagine he means something to you.”

      “Ah, but only after one of those Frenchies nearly put him to sleep with that belaying pin, and just before the cannon shot whistled through the rigging. There’s all that to consider, don’t you think? So much going on. Now, let’s go see the lad, shall we?”

      Zoé felt panic rising in her throat even as her knees, already wobbly, turned to mush. “I’ll pay you to let me go. Pay you well, in English coin.”

      “And there’s a pity for you and a blessing for me, as I once would have welcomed the coin but no longer need it. Tell me now, miss, before you run off—do you know where you are, where you’re heading? I’d want to know that before I traveled too far. Let me enlighten you. Behind you, the Channel, so not really a choice at all. To your left, to your right, and for as far as you can see ahead of you and leagues beyond that, is Redgrave land. All of it, more than you could imagine. And with every man-jack on it loyal to the Redgraves. Exhausted, forced to travel on foot, and with only that fetching but rather singular rig-out? Still so anxious to be off?”

      “Mon dieu.” Zoé’s entire body sagged at this devastating news. But she shouldn’t have been surprised, just as she shouldn’t have been so quick to believe him dead. It was inevitable. One way or another, Max Redgrave always won.

      “He’ll more than likely turn me over to be hanged now that we’re on this side of the Channel,” she said quietly as she looked Max’s way, to see him now only as a shadow sitting on the beach, his forearms resting on his bent knees, still unaware of her presence. “And it will be on your head.”

      “Truly? A gentleman like Max? You must have been a very naughty girl.”

      “I’m certain he believes as much. Please, if you have any compassion...”

      “Fresh out, I’m afraid. But a bit of advice, young lady. Never whimper. Men loathe whimpering. Face him head-on.”

      “Something to consider, I suppose.” She continued to watch as Max, with Tariq’s help, staggered to his feet, one hand held to the side of his head. Zoé wanted to turn away, not see the hate and hurt in his eyes when he at last recognized her, but she forced herself to raise her chin while praying neither that chin nor her voice would wobble. “Maximillien, my congratulations,” she dared as he drew nearer. “I thought never to see you again, but you seem to have more lives than a litter of cats.”

      He halted where he was, still supported by Tariq. He looked at her for a long time, taking in her bedraggled mane of blond, seawater-stiff hair, her sodden clothing clinging tightly to her body, before holding his cold dark gaze with her own soft brown one. His answer came in a maddening drawl of disinterest. “My, my, will wonders never cease. It’s been months.”

      “Has it?” she returned coolly, as if she hadn’t counted the days. There was such a hardness in his eyes as he looked at her, which was no real surprise. She felt naked standing in front of him, vulnerable, which was an unwelcome realization. Some fires clearly didn’t die, no matter how many tears you’d shed over them.

      He merely shrugged, as if her words were of no matter to him. Down, but never out—that was Max. “I was told you were in prison.”

      Anger, quick and hot, betrayed her. “I was told you were dead. But you’d simply walked away. As if we never existed, you and me, together.”

      “But there never was a you and me, was there? No, don’t bother to lie. On to more important matters, if you please. It was you on the ship. That business of bad pennies and all of that. I should have known,” he said, pulling himself more upright, showing he could stand on his own two feet even if he fainted in the process, the idiot. Brave, strong, stubborn...but not always smart.

      “You should have known a lot of things.” No, no. I have to stop, now. To say anything else would only make things worse. I can’t let the shock of seeing him trick me into showing him he still has the power to hurt me. “But, yes, let’s move on.”

      “I suppose I have you to thank for this blasted bump on my head.”

      “Yes, of course. I already proved I’m the embodiment of all things evil.”

      “I believe the lady considers herself insulted, and has good reason,” the man who still held tight to her arm interrupted. “It’s one of the frogs you have to thank for the bump. Oh, and I’m the one who pushed you over the rail, so you can thank me for that.”

      “Richard?” Max leaned forward, squinting in the dying light from the burning rigging, clearly seeing the other man for the first time. “How...?”

      “How else could I boost you out the back door more efficiently than by so clumsily coming in through the front door dressed in all my now thoroughly ruined finery? You may be quicker than this harmless old fat man, but I’ve been around longer than you, and know more tricks. You should look behind you more often, although I admit the rain was more a boon to me than it was to you. In any event, welcome home. This young lady you’ve been glaring daggers at thinks you’re going to have her hanged. Is that right?”

      They were speaking of her as if she weren’t there, listening to every word. Max looked like hell, maybe worse than hell, but was still the most handsome, compelling man she’d ever met. Her last and best lover. The man who’d held her in his arms and told her about Redgrave Manor and his own estate, about his family and how they would welcome her. The children they would have together. She’d loved him so much. She’d fallen into jagged, devastated bits on the floor of her cell when told he was dead.

      “I hadn’t considered the matter, but, yes, she deserves at least that. Don’t you, Zoé? But the ladies might not approve. Perhaps we’ll put it to a vote tomorrow, over tea and cakes. Are they here, Richard, or scattered all over London and the countryside?”

      “Every last one of them here, yes. As you’ve probably gathered, I was sent to fetch you, which wasn’t particularly easy. It took me two trips across the Channel to find you, as you were no longer in Ostend when I got there, and when I returned to London for more information it was to find out there’d been an attempt on— No, that can wait. What’s of first importance is that the Society is all but figuratively knocking on the Manor gates and ready to smash them down. There’s trouble, lad, deadly serious trouble, and you’re just what Trixie thinks is needed. I didn’t know our destination tonight when I invited myself onboard, but sometimes a man gets lucky, doesn’t he?”

      Max