Free What a Hero Dares by Kasey Michaels Page A

Still, the story flattered neither of them, and she wanted to get over this rough ground as quickly as possible.
    “I was asleep in the loft with the others napping downstairs when Anton rode in with three men. Before I could fully rouse myself and get into my boots, they’d dragged Ralph and Howard and Georges outside and were tying them up on the ground. Ralph and Howard were dispatched at once, bullets to their heads.” She closed her eyes, seeing everything as if it was happening again. “And then...”
    “Look at me, Zoé. Don’t look at the past, look at me.”
    She turned around, leaning back against the windowsill, the moonlight most probably turning her unbound hair to silvery gossamer—drawing Max toward her like a moth to the flames. But now was not the time for such thoughts. She felt so incredibly sad. “Don’t you understand, Max? You are the past, and so am I. It’s too late to change that.”
    He looked at her for a long time. “I suppose you’re right. Tell me about Georges.”
    “He was so sweet, wasn’t he, and so young,” Zoé said at last, a single tear escaping down her cheek. “Anton went down on his knees beside him as the boy sobbed, pleaded, saying he didn’t want to die. Anton...Anton sat him up and hugged him close, kissed his cheeks, and told him no, his men had been overzealous in tying him up in the first place. Georges laughed and cried in relief, holding out his bound hands behind him so that his uncle could slice the ropes around his wrists. He was still smiling when Anton put a small pistol to his ear and shot him. Then he kissed him again as he gently laid the body back on the ground, thanking the boy for his sacrifice.”
    “Sweet Jesus.”
    “That boy’s face still haunts my nightmares.” Zoé scrubbed at the tears that flowed freely now. “I was too stunned to move, even knowing I was as good as dead if I didn’t escape at once. Neither of those two things happened. I was dragged back into the cottage, where Anton was kind enough to explain what came next. It was up to me whether you and I died or lived, he told me. I could pen the letter you saw and we’d both live...or you would ride into the cottage yard all unsuspecting, and be shot only after he put a bullet in my stomach and you were forced to watch as it took me hours to die in agony. I’d just seen the man cold-bloodedly execute his own nephew. I wasn’t about to hazard the odds on whether or not he might be bluffing.”
    “You wrote the letter. That bastard. ”
    “Our friend Anton’s an insult to bastards.” Her upper lip curled in remembered frustration. “You’d grown suspicious of him, and he somehow knew it. Rather than simply dispose of you, he went to a lot of trouble, murdering Georges to prove his own innocence, and placing the blame on me. I didn’t know why, but I felt I had to believe he still needed you aboveground. You might have lived in any case, but if I didn’t say I’d cooperate, I knew I was as good as dead.” She felt shame wash over her. “I wasn’t ready to be dead.”
    “Sacrificing his own nephew to protect himself. God, Zoé, how he wept as we dug those graves...”
    “Yes, but move beyond that now, Max. I wrote the letter, was tied to my saddle, and taken off by Anton’s companions, not knowing whether or not Anton would keep his side of the bargain. He visited me a month later in my prison cell and told me you’d been killed, but not on his order. He went so far as to curse you for being so foolish as to get yourself shot, that you’d made a mess of his plans. I flew at him in a rage, intent on scratching out his eyes, but his companion threw me against the stone wall and I fell unconscious. I never saw Anton again until Ostend.”
    “He wanted you completely broken, didn’t he? So when he came to you with whatever reason he had, you’d do most anything to be free of prison.”
    Finally, Zoé smiled, although it was a sad, rueful smile. “If so, he very