The Sherbrooke Bride (Sherbrooke Brides 1)

Boulogne, France

Douglas won the piquet match. He hadn’t even had to cheat. Belesain had been so drunk by the end of it, Douglas doubted he’d minded losing very much because as the winner he would have had to perform sexually, a feat he probably couldn’t have managed. He’d given Douglas a key and told him to explain to the lovely wench he found in the small room that he was here to be pleasured. He said the wench loved threats and a bit of pain. Then, the bloody drunk fool had decided to accompany him. “Because,” he said as they climbed the stairs to the third floor, “she isn’t exactly trained fully as yet.” Douglas watched him unlock the door and stride inside.

He followed, saying nothing. It was a spare room, with only a bed and dresser and a single circular rug in the middle. There was only one occupant, a single woman standing in the middle of the room. Was this Janine Daudet? The general grinned drunkenly at her and said with a flip of his hand, “Strip off those clothes.”

The woman hesitated, then complied. He’d expected someone younger, though why he should have he didn’t know. No, she wasn’t really a girl, Douglas thought, looking at her more closely, but rather a woman in her mid-twenties. She was obviously scared and she was lovely, despite her pallor, the shadows beneath her very dark eyes, and her thinness.

Belesain waited silently until she’d stripped to her shift. Then he lurched to her, grabbed her chin painfully in his fingers and kissed her, fondling her breasts with his other hand through the thin lawn. Then, suddenly, he grabbed the front of her shift and ripped it off her. He laughed, saying over his shoulder to Douglas, “I wanted to see if you approved of her. Nice, eh? A bit thin for my taste, but her tits are nice.” He pushed her back onto the bed, leaned over her, and said low, “You see this man, my girl? You do everything he wants you to do or . . . you know the punishment, don’t you? I would like

to remain and watch, but I am sorely tired.” He straightened and turned to Douglas. “You are quiet. Don’t you think she is lovely? Not a virgin, but not overused either. She belongs to me, and now, because she isn’t stupid, she obeys my every command. Now you may enjoy her, but just for tonight.”

He lurched out of the room. Douglas moved after him and listened as his footsteps receded down the corridor and then down the stairs. He listened to another door open and close on the second floor. Then he turned back to face the woman.

She was standing now by the bed, trying to cover herself with her hands. Douglas couldn’t believe his good fortune but he wasn’t about to doubt it, not for a moment.

His voice was urgent as he strode to her. “Is your name Janine Daudet?”

She was small, very fair, her hair falling straight down her back nearly to her waist. She had light blue eyes, very blond brows and lashes, and she was lovely.

“Are you?”

She nodded, taking a step back.

“Don’t be afraid of me. I’m here on behalf of Georges Cadoudal.”

Douglas wasn’t able to keep his eyes on her face. He hadn’t had a woman in a while. His body was responding with deplorable enthusiasm. “Do you know Georges Cadoudal?”

She nodded, still obviously afraid of him, not believing him for a moment, despite the flare of hope he’d seen.

“I wish you to dress, quickly. I am here to take you away, to Georges. We must hurry.”

“I don’t have any gowns.”

Douglas looked around. “A cloak, anything. Come, we must hurry.”

“I don’t believe you.” So there was some spirit left in her after all. She was nearly strangling on her fear but she still kept on. “I know that he gave me to you, he said so, and I know why he did it.”

“It’s because I won a wager.”

“Oh no.” She became even paler. Her rouged lips parted, then closed. She shook her head, then said in a rush, “He wants me to find out what you will tell Bonaparte when you return to Paris. He worries also that you are really a spy. I think he would prefer a spy to you being from Bonaparte because he fears Bonaparte will discover the wicked things he’s done. He told me I must discover the truth or he will kill my grandmother.”

“Ah.” Douglas smiled down at her and gently began to run his hands up and down her thin arms. So, the general hadn’t been drunk at all. The piquet, the wager, his loss, it had all been Belesain’s plan to trap him. Not bad.

“Easy now,” he said absently, trying to calm her, all the while thinking furiously.

“Where is your grandmother?”

Janine started. “She’s at the farm, two miles from Etaples to the south. He says that he has a man there watching her and that the man will kill her if I don’t do as he orders.”

“If I know Georges, he’s already taken care of any guards at your grandmother’s farmhouse. I am really here to save you. Now, let’s get you dressed in something. I am taking you and your grandmother to England.”

“England,” she said slowly, her dark eyes wide with surprise. “But we only speak French.”

“It doesn’t matter. Many people speak French in England and you will learn. Georges lives there much of the time and he can teach both of you English.”

“But—”

“No, I can say no more. Georges wishes me to take you to London. You will be safe there until he returns to fetch you. There are chores he must attend to here first. Will you trust me?”