“What was it?”
She grabbed his hands and held them tight. “He was once in love with Anna. And now he wants Henrietta.”
Anthony jerked away from her. “What? Damnation!” His eyebrows snapped together. “The man is mad.” He tried to recall something of Danton when he and Anna first met. Had she ever mentioned the man? Was there something Anna had failed to tell him? Had he frightened her? Anthony wished he knew.
“Danton has been obsessed with your wife all these years. He fancies Henrietta is like her.” She rubbed her forehead. “He is fanatical and will stop at nothing. He demanded I bring you and Henrietta to him.”
He set his teeth, and a muscle jumped in his jaw. She stared at him and shivered. “You four must leave here. We cannot delay.”
“I won’t leave you here, Verity.”
She shook her head and walked away.
***
Henrietta followed the woodland path, the heels of her buckled shoes sinking into the damp ground. She heard men’s voices up ahead. Determined to find out who it was he met, she crept closer, and hunkered down in the shrubbery. François stood in conversation with three rough-looking men. Were they the same men she’d come across here before? Their voices were raised in disagreement, but the words were lost on the breeze.
François made a dismissive gesture and turned away, but one of the men called him back. If he came this way, he could see her. Alarmed, she backed away and retraced her path through the trees. Once out in the meadow, she picked up her skirts and ran. Her lungs bursting, she didn’t stop until she reached the stables and dived inside. Bent double, her breath coming in gasps, she stole a look out the door. François crossed the meadow headed for the house.
He was a suspicious man and she mustn’t be found here. Leaving the stables, she ran over the uneven path toward the cottage; her gown raised, her eyes on her feet. She came up against a hard body and looked up. Christian.
Strong hands parenthesized her waist. “Is the barn on fire?”
“We must leave before François arrives.” She was panting so hard she could barely speak. His touch didn’t help. “Come into the orchard.”
He hesitated. “I’m not sure why, but the idea is most tempting.”
Annoyed that he didn’t take her seriously, she grabbed his hand and dragged him along. She stopped beneath a flowering pear tree then fought to regain her breath and her composure. She lost it again when he took both her hands.
“Henrietta, what is this about?”
“You… called me Henrietta.”
“Yes, may I?”
“It hardly matters.” She pulled her hands away and turned to point back the way she’d come. “It… it’s François. I followed him into the woods. He was arguing with brigands.”
“Are you sure they were brigands?”
“They looked like brigands.”
“They might be gypsies. He might have refused to allow them to camp on his land. Why has this made you so nervous?”
“I don’t trust him.”
He frowned. “Because he has met with these men?”
“No. It’s not just that. I doubt his attitude toward us is sincere.”
His blue-grey eyes searched hers. “What reason do you have to think that?”
“I can’t say exactly. It’s just a feeling. Finding him with those men…”
“Where is he now?”
“He is probably on his way back to the house.”
“He said he would find out if there were Chouans in the area. It’s possible these people are they.” He turned away. “I’ll ask him.”
