Capture The Night (44 page)

Brazos lifted a brow as he noticed the slight shake of Madeline’s head. So, they had allies above them somewhere. Who? Desseau most likely, maybe even Tyler Brazos didn’t know whether to be relieved or more concerned at that thought.

Salezan took his seat, looking every bit the king he liked to believe he was. “Actually,” he said, pouring himself a goblet of wine from the decanter kept ever at the ready beside the throne, “I’ve decided that this is the perfect opportunity to indulge in another scenario I’ve fancied in the past. In fact, I find the thought so delicious, I all but tremble with anticipation. My lone problem is to decide who should go first. Me or the good priest, there.”

“What are you talking about?” Madeline demanded impatiently.

Something ugly slithered around Brazos’s mind, and as Salezan opened his mouth, Brazos knew what he was going to say.

“I find such symbolism in the idea of the priest. A man of my heritage sets great store in ritual and symbols. Yes, the priest will be first. Once I have taken my revenge for the loss of my wife, there may be nothing left for the holy man to make use of.”

From the horror spreading across her face, Brazos knew that Madeline had caught on, too. She said, “You…you mean—”

Salezan smiled a devil’s grin. “The priest will have you first. Then I shall take my turn. Now, lock your husband into the manacles on the wall. I’ll shoot him dead if you attempt any foolishness.”

Brazos nodded at Madeline, whose eyes rounded in fear. Then he shared a long look with Miguel. He didn’t quite have it all figured out yet, but he damn well knew Salezan wasn’t gonna get his way this time. Nor would the bastard leave the pits of Perote alive.

He turned his back toward the governor and walked toward the dangling chains. He whispered to Maddie, “Julian?”

“Yes.”

“Anyone else?”

She shook her head. “I left Papa in an unlocked cell. He may be on his way.”

“We may not have the time. I won’t allow anyone to hurt you. Are you any good at manacles, Maddie?”

She lifted her chin and sniffed before saying beneath her breath, “I’ve never met a lock I can’t pick.”

“Wrists and ankles, my dear;” Salezan said. “And be quick. I find I’m growing impatient.”

As Madeline bound his hands to the cold stone wall, Brazos whispered in her ear. “See the bottle of moonshine on the table, Maddie? Get one of the blanket scraps and plug it into the bottle’s neck. Tell Miguel to get a torch, light it, and throw it at Salezan.”

The governor called out, “Move away from your husband, Madeline. Turn toward the priest as you remove your dress. I’m certain that after so many years of celibacy, our padre will enjoy the sight of such luscious bounty. Now, he made need a little time, a little inducement. Or perhaps”—he turned an evil grin toward Father Miguel—“he’ll need no coaxing whatsoever. Tell us, holy man, is your cock hard? Are you already lusting after your friend’s wife? Have you dreamed of pumping yourself into her, of spilling your seed in the heat of her body?”

“I pray God sends you to hell,” Miguel Alcortez said, his gaze vibrant with fury.

“Ah, hah,” Salezan laughed. “You do want her! Woman, move more quickly. I want to see the good father’s eyes when they glimpse those lovely
chi chonas
.”

Madeline threw Brazos a desperate look. “It’s all right, Beauty,” he said. “Do what he says.” Brazos felt her embarrassment, saw her shame. But then she stiffened, squared her shoulders, and lifted her head high. Turning her head toward Salezan, she pushed her dress from her shoulders, looking down her nose at him as though she were a queen and he nothing but a lowly stable boy.

Watching her, Brazos was filled with pride. She was an amazing woman, and Salezan was too stupid to see it. The governor’s gaze was fastened on the thin lawn of the chemise she wore beneath her gown; he actually licked his lips. Brazos wanted to rip the chains from the wall and kill the bastard with his bare hands.

“Beautiful, my dear,” Salezan said as the dress dropped to the floor. “See, priest, just like I promised. And think in just a few minutes you’ll be inside her, wrapped in her velvet sheath. Of course, she will need a little stimulus. Are you Catholic, Mrs. Sinclair? Have you fantasized about fucking a priest? Well, your dreams are soon to come true. Take off the cassock, holy man. Let’s see how you lust after your best friend’s woman. Give her a glimpse of your hard cock. She’ll get wet for you, I’m certain.”

Blood surged through Brazos’s veins so hard and fast, he thought he just might explode. He was going to wipe the floor with Salezan before he killed him. Madeline looked ready to cry, and Miguel—
Oh, hell
, Brazos thought.

Miguel was a man of God. A good man. A pious man. But he was still a man. And by the look on his face, he’d not been unaffected by Madeline’s body. Brazos didn’t like it, but he understood it. And he knew damn well that Father Miguel would be mortified if his uncontrollable reaction was made visible to all here in the dungeon. His friend had suffered enough. It would end here and now. “Madeline,” he said, “you go tell Father Miguel that there’s nothing to worry about.” He caught her puzzled gaze, then darted a significant look at the wall torch.

Madeline reached for Father Miguel’s hand and whispered to him. The man nodded, but only Brazos saw his relief. “Salezan,” Brazos said, “if I have to watch this little opera you’re orchestrating, do you think I could at least have Madeline give me a swig of that home brew your soldiers make to help get me through it?”

Salezan crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. “Why not?” he said expansively. “I find if you mingle the senses—taste, sight, touch—it does increase one’s pleasure. Give your husband a drink, Madeline. Fondle him a moment. Maybe he’ll enjoy this as much as the good father and I.”

“Oh, I think I’ll enjoy this a whole hell of a lot. Now,” he said. And it took only seconds.

Miguel pivoted and swept the burning torch from the wall while Madeline poured liquor over the blanket scrap before shoving it into the bottle. As the priest took the bottle and set it alight, Madeline hurried to her husband and went to work on the locks. Miguel slipped the makeshift bomb through the bars and tossed it at Salezan’s feet.

“No!” Salezan screamed as the bottle exploded. Shattered glass pinged against the stone as blue flames flared at the feet of the king and his throne. Then, in little more than an instant, Salezan’s clothing caught fire, engulfing him in a blaze. His screams echoed off the walls.

With two of the manacles undone, Madeline shuddered, grimacing at the sounds the governor made. The fire spread, consuming the dry straw scattered through the passageway. A breath-stealing fog of smoke rose and hung along the low-ceilinged corridor.

“It’s spreading,” Father Miguel cried, beating at the flames that had inched their way inside the cell.

Madeline had but a single shackle to loosen to free Brazos from the wall. He watched her hands tremble, saw how the heat from the fire scorched her skin, how the smoke burned her eyes. She blinked hard to see through the watery film. She pulled on the manacle. It held. “Damn,” she cried.

Brazos’s voice was calm and soothing even as the table inside the cell went up in flames, the crackle and pop of burning pine causing her to jump. “It’s all right, Beauty,” he said. “You’re doing fine.”

The flames were gaining on Miguel. Gray smoke engulfed the cell, so thick, Brazos could no longer see the door. He realized that if they didn’t escape now, they’d all perish. “I can do this one, Maddie. Go get the door. Open the cell door and help Miguel out of here. I’ll be right behind you.”

“No,” she cried. “I’m not leaving you behind. I can do this. I’m a thief! I do this all the time.” She pulled at the iron cuff. Nothing. “Oh, God, help us,” she wailed.

“Go, Madeline, now! I order you! Save yourself, dammit. Miguel, come get her. We’ve run out of time.”

She looked up at him and shouted, “Bloody hell, Sinclair, are you going to go to your grave still trying to order me around? Haven’t you learned anything over the last months?” She bent herself to her task with renewed determination, and soon came the gratifying click of a lock being released.

Brazos wrenched his ankle from the iron and grabbed Madeline’s arm, tugging her in the direction of the door. “Watch your skirts, honey.” Flames licked his bare feet as he crossed the room, and he knew that if he was still alive tomorrow, he’d suffer from the burns. “Miguel!” he called, staring through the smoke to find his friend. “Miguel!”

Father Miguel didn’t answer, but as Brazos reached the cell door, he found his friend, weakened by years spent in prison, gasping for air.
Hell
, Brazos wondered,
had they run out of time
?

“Sinclair?” an excited voice called from the other side of the door.

“Here!”

Julian Desseau drew a penknife from his pocket and quickly tripped the lock. Pushing open the door, he waved them toward the stairs, asking, “Madeline are you all right?”

Coughing, Madeline managed to say, “Yes, but the padre…” She stopped to pull on Miguel Alcortez’s arm.

“Go, Maddie,” Brazos hollered, pushing her at the same time he tried to lift Miguel.

Julian shoved him aside, saying, “Sinclair get her out of here. I’ll help the priest.”

“Papa, you saved us,” Madeline said. “But how did you get the door—”

“Later,
cheri
. Up those stairs while we’re still able to breathe. The smoke is rising; take small breaths.”

She ran for the stairs, Brazos right behind her. Something caught him around the ankles, and he pitched forward, falling on the smoldering body of Damasso Salezan. The governor’s face was black and crusted, but his eyes were open and alive. Pleading. Brazos stood and wiped his hands on his trousers. He hesitated.

Salezan deserved nothing better than to die here in the bowels of Perote Prison, where he had played his sadistic, horrific games. Here, where he had created the animal that had dwelt inside Brazos for so long—the beast that had been defeated by the pure, unbounded love of the beauty waiting to climb to freedom with him.

Heedless of the heat against his own skin, Brazos bent and lifted his enemy into his arms. Silently, he carried the dying man up the stairs and away from the flaming corridors of Brazos’s personal hell.

Chapter 22

THE ESCAPE FROM PEROTE Castle proved to be easier than Madeline had hoped. Stepping into the tower room after climbing the dungeon staircase, she discovered Joseph, pistol in hand, anxiously pacing the room. After taking one look at the agony etched across Salezan’s disfigured face, Joseph asked Brazos to lay the governor on the floor. Then the servant provided one last service to his master. He put the pistol to Salezan’s temple and shot him.

Joseph displayed little emotion as he provided each of the ragtag band of prisoners a set of clothing before escorting them to Perote’s front gate. Only when he offered the reins of a beautiful black gelding to Father Miguel did the butler betray his true feelings. He said, “I ask your forgiveness, Padre. I am ashamed for the part I played in keeping you here at Perote.”

Father Miguel offered the man a gentle smile and said, “You need not be ashamed, my friend. You found a balance between your familial duties and your moral ones. Without your assistance, Joseph, I don’t doubt that I’d have died years ago.” The priest placed his hands on the servant’s shoulders. “Don’t question God. Everything happens for a reason. You’re free now. Go and pursue your calling.”

The rocky road shimmered with heat as they rode away from the castle. Brazos wiped his brow with a kerchief and asked Father Miguel, “Familial responsibilities?”

“Joseph was Salezan’s half-brother.”

“His brother!” Madeline exclaimed, twisting in her saddle to look at the priest. “Why, Salezan treated him terribly. What made Joseph tolerate such abuse?”

“He had made a promise to their mother.”

“Hard to imagine Salezan having a mother,” Brazos commented, slowly shaking his head. “So Joseph was his brother. Well, I’ll be damned.”

“I suspect so, unless you change your ways, my friend,” Father Miguel replied dryly.

“Wait just one minute,” Madeline interrupted. “Brazos is a very good man.”

The two friends looked at one another and laughed. “It’s an old joke, Maddie. Don’t take him seriously,” Brazos told her. “For a priest, Miguel is a terrible tease.”

She sniffed disdainfully and gigged her horse, catching up with her father. They rode silently side by side, and were it not for the questions plaguing her, Madeline would have enjoyed the freedom of the ride.

She worried about the future. So far, Brazos hadn’t said a word about it, and she didn’t have a clue as to what he was thinking. She settled for asking her father how he managed to open the lock on the dungeon cell door.

Julian offered her a sheepish look and confessed, “While searching for you, I stole a penknife from Salezan’s study. I’m afraid I’m quite proficient at locks; ‘tis a knack I discovered during my youth.”

A warm surge of pleasure engulfed Madeline upon hearing his words. Obviously, she’d inherited her talent from him. She couldn’t wait to explore other family connections. Most of all, she couldn’t wait to hold Rose in her arms once again.

As Brazos led them to the coastal site where they would rendezvous with the
Lucky Linda
, she determinedly pushed her worries from her mind. For now, she wouldn’t concern herself with the likelihood that her father would wish to take her sister back to France. She refused to fret any longer about whether Brazos would want her to join them or not.

Dusk cast a shadowed glaze over the water as the steamer paddled its way toward them. Madeline recognized Tyler’s shout and Sister Cecilia’s joyful squeal as the stern-wheeler drew close enough for all to see one another. It seemed to take forever to get aboard, and although Rose was already asleep in her bed, Madeline couldn’t resist picking the child up.

An hour later, following the reunions and explanations, Brazos ducked into his sister’s stateroom and found Madeline sitting on the bunk with tears streaming down her cheeks as she rocked the sleeping toddler. “Aw, Maddie, don’t cry. You know I hate it when you cry. What’s the matter, Beauty?”