“What do we do?”
Malcolm wished with all his heart he could fix this to her satisfaction. But the most important thing was getting her to safety, not what his heart wanted.
Grabbing her arm, he took her a few steps away for privacy.
“You will get on the ship as your grandfather wanted and return to England.” Malcolm hadn’t expected the turn of events, but he hadn’t discounted it either. Still, he hated to see the sudden flash of fear in her eyes. She didn’t look like the fearless Parisian girl he’d first encountered in the Palais-Royal, and he needed that girl to return so he could send her on her way.
If Serena started to cry or seemed like a wilting flower, he would be hard pressed to send her off alone. But her staying in France was no longer an option.
“Come now, Miss Elmstead. You are the bravest woman I know. This is nothing but a short trip across the Channel.” The ship looked sound, albeit smaller than he’d expected, and instead of being moored at one of the large wooden docks, it was off to the side, behind trees, with access only via two planks of wood.
Serena touched his hand and made a sound of frustration. “It’s not a silly boat voyage I’m worried about,” she said. “What about you? It is no longer safe here.”
Malcolm blinked with astonishment to discover she wasn’t concerned about traveling alone after all. Having someone worry about him was a strange occurrence, and while he appreciated it, he didn’t want her to think about anything except herself at that moment.
Besides, it had never been safe for him in France, but he wouldn’t mention that.
“I’ll return to Paris as planned and finish what I started.”
“You mustn’t—” she began.
“Serena,” he stopped her. “I’ve been successfully looking after myself for many years, even with my dreadful accent. Please don’t fret.”
When she bit her lip, he couldn’t help himself. He drew her into his embrace.
“Hurry along, mademoiselle,” called out the captain. “We must leave before the last light.”
Malcolm didn’t want to say anything to her that might not come true if he were injured or captured. But he couldn’t let her go without some hope.
“I’ll come after you.”
Her eyes lit up. “Do you promise?”
Malcolm hated to promise something that wasn’t entirely in his control, but for her he would.
“I promise. And this is the first vow I’ve ever made to a woman, so you’d best hold it in your heart.”
“I will,” she agreed, sounding calmer.
“Now, mademoiselle!” called the captain. “Or never.”
Claiming her lips for a last kiss, Malcolm fervently hoped it wouldn’t be too long before he was doing so again. She started to put her hands behind his neck, but he couldn’t let her miss her passage.
Grabbing her hands, he pressed his mouth harder against hers, and then he pushed her away. Turning her quickly, he sent her in the direction of Captain Lafère’s ship with his palm between her shoulder blades.
“Go,” he ordered. And she did.
His heart swelled with admiration as she picked her way over the rocks to the gangplank and boarded the ship with nothing but her cloak and her pistol strapped to her ankle.
“Look after her,” he said to the captain, who nodded. “For Henri Renault,” the man said.
Malcolm hoped she didn’t turn around lest he change his mind and snatch her back. Then, staring after her, he hoped to God she turned so he could look upon her sweet face again.
When she was onboard, she did.
He raised a hand, and she did the same, and then the ship slipped its mooring and departed into the twilight.
Breathing a sigh of relief, he turned his steps the way they’d come. All he had to do was sneak up on two armed Imperial soldiers and retrieve his horse.
