Free Destiny's Kiss by Jo Ann Ferguson Page B

happened because, in the light from the torches, he could see rips and stains along her gown. Such questions could wait. As he took Lirienne’s hand and led her to the stairs, he whispered, “You should have left at the first sign of trouble.”
    â€œAnd where was I to go?” she asked.
    â€œI don’t know.”
    â€œWhere are we going now?”
    Glancing back at the door that shuddered with the force of the mob, he said, “If we’re lucky, out of Paris. If not, to the guillotine.”

Six
    Lirienne peered through the darkness as they skulked across the courtyard between the kitchens and the stables that were thick gray blocks. She strained to hear any sounds to make her believe they could flee the mob, but heard only the shouts from the front of the house and the fearful thud of her heart. She wished she had the pistol, but its single shot had been used hours ago when a few fools had tried to storm the house.
    â€œPhilippe, what—?”
    â€œBe silent, wife, and do as I tell you.” He pulled her toward some trees in the courtyard’s far corner. “Do as I tell you, or I swear by all the saints, I’ll leave you here to die.”
    Lirienne blanched. Would he really leave her alone? She did not want to believe that he would, but she discovered with every passing day how little she knew this man who had been a part of her dreams for four years.
    He pulled off his ebony cloak and tossed it over her shoulder. Looking down, she saw her skirts reflecting back the moonlight until she pulled the cape over them. He held out his hand, and she took it. She had to trust him tonight. He and the duc were the only allies she had. And, she realized, with a pulsing of terror, she was their only ally.
    â€œThe others—”
    The duc puffed as he rushed to where they stood. “They know what to do to save their necks. As servants, they should be safe from the mob.”
    â€œFollow me,” Philippe ordered, and put his finger to her lips to silence her next question.
    She was not surprised no one had taken note of this small gate behind the stables. Filthy water ran beneath it, and she guessed it came from the stables to wash out the filth of the stalls into the Seine on the other side of the walkway. Hoping no one heard their splashing steps, she clutched Philippe’s hand as they emerged out onto a narrow street. She pulled the cloak more tightly around her, then frowned as she looked at him.
    Slipping her fingers into a rip on his coat, she tore it farther. He started to curse at the sharp sound, then nodded, reaching for his other sleeve. She turned to the duc , but he already was sending the buttons on his coat flying into the bushes. Bending, she ran her fingers through the thick mud and darkened her cheeks and forehead before wiping her dirty hands on her skirt.
    â€œYou are skilled at this,” the duc said with a hushed laugh as he copied her motions.
    Philippe gave her no time to answer. Pulling on her hand, he led her away from the duc’s house and walked along the river, staying in the shadows of the other houses that were not lit. She fought to keep her pace even with his, for he walked at a stroll. To call attention to themselves would be disastrous. She started when someone called out behind them, but relaxed when she heard another man answer from across the street.
    â€œDon’t panic,” Philippe murmured.
    â€œI’m trying not to.”
    â€œIt’s not far.”
    Wanting to ask what “it” was, Lirienne bit back the question as they hurried across the bridge she had crossed earlier that day. The shouts of the mob were muted, but she could not forget that they now stood in the shadows of the Louvre where the guillotine waited.
    â€œYou should come with me to the Loire,” the duc said in a tone that suggested the two men had already discussed this. “You might be safe there.”
    â€œNo, we are going to