Page 35 of A Fierce Wind

Chapter 8

The next morning as the first rays of dawn slipped in through the wooden shutters, Freddie rose, thinking of the long day ahead. Somehow he would find his way through the unknown forest.

He pulled on his boots while watching Zoé sleep, her mahogany hair flowing out behind her on the pillow and her cheeks rosy with the same blush as her lips.

He wanted to crawl back into that bed with her but not for sleep.

Having held her through what had remained of the night, he’d had little rest. Even with the bedcover and their clothing between them, she had curled against him, her breasts pressing against his side, stirring his body to attention.

Aye, torture, indeed.

He had struggled mightily against the overwhelming desire to initiate her in the ways of love. Having been patient for so long, he could wait a bit longer. Besides, he didn’t know if she would want him in the way he wanted her.

A muffled sound from the bed drew his attention. She had turned onto her back. “I trust you are rising sometime this morning, Pigeon.”

She let out a dull moan. Her eyes slowly opened and she turned her head to look at him. “You are dressed.”

“As I was when I went to bed, silly goose. Best hurry if we are to arrive in Fougères in time to dine with Aimé du Boisguy.” Freddie put on his coat. “I will meet you in the common room.”

She was just sitting up as he reached the door, her long hair tousled, a temptress rising from her mussed bed like Venus rising from the sea.

With a single glance back, he opened the door and stepped out, closing it behind him. A man could only stand so much.

Several minutes later, surrounded by Chouans in the common room, Freddie introduced Zoé to Isabeau and her brother. From the warm smile Zoé directed at the girl, she seemed pleased to have Giles’ sister included in their travel. Because he was a Breton and happy to see one of his own escape France, Erwan had been enthusiastic at the idea of Isabeau joining them. Gabe had merely shrugged when asked his view, but then he was along to guard Zoé. While Freddie worried for Isabeau’s safety, he couldn’t bear to tell Giles no having seen the fear in his eyes for his young sister.

Cadoudal had advised Freddie that Fougères could be reached in a day, but it would mean a very long day. “At least you’ll have many hours of daylight.”

Giles knelt in front of his sister, taking her small hands in his. “Mademoiselle Donet will take good care of you, mon petit chat. Do as she says.”

Tears flowed down Isabeau’s cheeks as she nodded, her dark eyes fixed on her brother. The men in the tavern quieted at the touching scene. Isabeau was reed-thin and tall for her age but her modest peasant’s clothing, now that of a lad’s, made her appear younger than her twelve years.

Freddie studied the girl’s face. She was trying to be strong for her brother but the tears flowing down her cheeks made clear she was failing.

In a halting voice, Isabeau said, “I… I have only just got you back.”

Giles placed his hands on her shoulders. “I need to know you are safe, Isabeau, somewhere far from Brittany. My friends here will take you to their home on the Isle of Guernsey.”

Isabeau regarded Freddie with a look of suspicion. “But he is Anglais.”

“Oui, and one of us,” said her brother, rising. “I’m told Guernsey is a wondrous place. You will love it and it is there I will come for you.”

Freddie gave the girl a reassuring smile. He hoped it would be as Giles predicted. None of them knew from one day to the next if they would live or die. Too easily, they could join the victims of the republicans’ muskets or the guillotines that stood in every major town.

When their goodbyes had been said, Cadoudal handed Freddie a message for Boisguy. “This will vouch for you.”

Freddie tucked the folded parchment into his waistcoat and offered his hand to the Chouan chief, thanking him for his help.

Giles opened the door of the inn and led Freddie and his companions out into the misting rain. He was glad for the wide-brimmed hat that kept the drizzle off his face. As an Englishman, he should be used to such weather, but his time on Guernsey had spoiled him. He now preferred sun.

“I will show you the road leading to Fougères,” offered Giles. “Then I must leave you. You will know you have arrived when you see the huge stone fortress rising above the town. It is Boisguy’s headquarters and where many of his men may be found. Should you want to stop for the night before you reach Fougères, there is a mill house just outside of Combourtillé where you can stay. The miller is a friend of Boisguy and has often been of assistance to the Chouans. He will know the owl’s cry.” Giles handed Freddie a drawing. “I have made this to help you.”

Zoé peered around Freddie and they studied the map together. He resisted the urge to wrap his arm around her shoulder and draw her close. Instead, he concentrated on the simple sketch. The way was clear enough, marked with a few landmarks and small towns.

“This is most helpful,” said Freddie.

Giles kissed his sister on the cheek. This time she did not cry but her wrinkled brow betrayed her anxiety.

Turning to Freddie, Giles said, “There are pockets of republican soldiers between here and Fougères. Beware the sham Chouans who are really Rossignol’s men. They will be few and will not know the owl’s cry. None of them would dare wear a rosary.”