“It’s all right,” she quickly told him, pressing a finger to her lips. “It’s me, Marianne.”
The anger in his eyes quickly turned to shock, and then something that resembled pain before Marianne moved behind him to release his gag and his wrists.
As soon as he was free, he rubbed his wrists and turned to hug her.
“Mari,” he said, his voice so hoarse it was nearly incoherent.
“You need water, don’t you?” She struggled to keep the tears that had sprung to her eyes from falling. The last thing David needed from her right now was tears.
He continued to hug her and nodded, and she pulled out of his arms to go to a small table on the far end of the tent. She didn’t bother with a glass. She pulled the entire pitcher to her chest and quickly made her way back to her brother, who was struggling to stand.
She gave him the support of her arm and he stood and grabbed the pitcher from her hands. He lifted it to his mouth, drinking in large gulps, before wiping his coat sleeve across his lips and breathing heavily.
“Thank you,” he gasped before adding. “Mari, what are you doing here?”
“We don’t have much time. I’m here with an agent from the Home Office. We followed the Bidassoa traitor here, and think he may have just been captured by the French also. I want you to go hide in the trees while I go look for my partner.”
“The devil will I go hide in the trees,” David said, a mixture of anger and resolve flashing in his bright blue eyes. “I’m coming with you.”
Marianne shook her head, but there was no sense arguing with David when he had his mind made up—and he obviously had his mind made up now. Quarreling about it would only waste precious time.
“Very well,” she replied. “We’re looking for a tall blond man dressed like me.”
David nodded. “If he’s not dressed like a French soldier, he’ll be easy to spot.”
David insisted on leaving the tent first. Marianne rolled her eyes and allowed him to think he was doing the brave, noble thing, but once they’d exited the tent, she pointed toward the music and laughter. “My guess is that the traitor and his friend are over there. Follow me,” she said, pushing ahead of her brother and giving him no other choice but to follow her.
They made their way to the tent on the far-right edge of the row near the trees and then ran across a small open space to hide behind several thick, low branches. Marianne could only hope that, in the darkness, no one had seen them.
Once they’d entered the safety of the trees, Marianne crouched down and indicated for her brother to do the same. They followed the treeline along the camp past the tents until they were able to push down some branches and view the raucous French party in progress.
Marianne’s gaze scanned the crowd. It was full of French soldiers. She saw no sign of Beau. She breathed a sigh of relief, hoping that that meant he, too, was hiding in the treeline, watching the party.
A small group of the French soldiers had formed a circle around the bonfire, and they were marching around it in lock step, singing a French song that Marianne could not make out.
She watched them for a moment before one of the Frenchmen, who was obviously quite drunk, stumbled. When he fell, it broke the formation, and Marianne glimpsed the center of the ring, where Baron Winfield and Albina stood, tied to a pole.
Marianne stifled a gasp with her hand. The fire was spread in a circle all around them, but it was obviously creeping closer and closer to them. They were being burned at the stake.
“What is it?” David whispered.
“Baron Winfield and his friend, they’re in the center of the circle.”
David redirected his gaze and sucked in his breath. “You’re right.” David narrowed his eyes. “Is that the traitor?”
“Yes.” Marianne nodded. She glanced back at the two captives. Both of them were sobbing, tears running down their cheeks.
“Damn it. While I won’t mind seeing him separated from his head back in England, I don’t wishthisfate on anyone,” David said, shaking his head with distaste.
“Neither do I.” Marianne shook her head too.
“Neither do I,” came Beau’s voice from behind a nearby tree.
David spun around, his fists up, clearly ready to fight.
“It’s all right, David. It’s only my partner from the Home Office, Beau – er, Lord Bellingham,” Marianne said, placing a hand atop one of her brother’s fists to lower them. She turned toward Beau and gave him a condemning glare. “You nearly frightened me witless.”
Beau stepped out from behind a tree a few feet to their right, a grin on his face. “I’m pleased to learn you didn’t hear me approach.” He turned to face David. “I expect this is your brother.”
