Marrying the Musketeer (44 page)

Courtney saluted him again and they ran on.
 
Behind them they could hear D’Artagnan barking out more orders, but no one came after them.
 
He had been as good as his word and had set his troops off in a different direction to give them a chance to escape.
 
It was up to them to make the most of it.
 
If he came up on them again when he was not alone, he would not be able to let them off so easily.

The front gate to the prison was standing wide open.
 
The two guards who should have been on duty were otherwise occupied – trousers around their ankles, they were huddled in a corner, agonized groans coming from them as they emptied their bodies from every orifice.
 
They looked up as the escaping prisoners came into view.
 
One of the guards tried to rise and give chase, but after a couple of steps another spasm of pain overtook him and he collapsed back to a squat again with a miserable moan.

The prisoners greeted the light of the outdoors with a cry of gladness.
 
Even those who had limped along barely able to walk got another renewal of life as they dispersed out of the gate.

Courtney stopped just short of freedom.
 
“Miriame is still inside.
 
She risked her life to save mine.
 
I cannot leave without her.”

Just then three figures came flying out towards them as if on wings.
 
After them were a group of D’Artagnan’s troops, swords flailing wildly in the air.

“Here they come,” Courtney shouted.
 
“Let’s go.”

A group of horses were tethered in front of the prison gate – the horses of the Musketeers called in to quell the riot in the prison no doubt.
 
Pierre and Courtney leaped on the backs of the nearest pair and he cut their tethers with a sweep of his sword.
 
Miriame, Sophie and Sophie’s husband were right behind them on stolen horses of their own.

The Musketeers let out a howl of anguish as they saw their quarry disappearing on five of their best mounts and several of them leaped on their own mounts to give chase.
 

D’Artagnan’s voice was clearly heard right behind them.
 
“Come back, you fools, and leave a couple of horse thieves be for now.
 
Our job is to quell the riot in the Bastille, and that is what we shall do.”

There was a chorus of protests from the Musketeers.
 
“But they’re escaping.”

“What’s a handful of prisoners when we have a whole prison full to deal with.
 
Will you go off chasing them, and let the rest go free?
 
Not while I am your Captain, you will not.
 
Any damn fool who runs off now will be courtmartialed as disobedient and as a coward.”

With muttered groans, the soldiers dismounted and went back into the Bastille to herd the few remaining prisoners back into their cells.

Courtney and Pierre turned to each other with a huge smile of joy and happiness as they rode hell for leather through the streets of Paris.
 
They had made it.
 
They were free.

“To Burgundy?” Courtney asked, as they stopped for breath once they were safely away from Paris.

“To Burgundy,” Sophie said.
 
“Your father awaits your return anxiously, and the Duke will welcome you there for as long as you wish to stay.”

Pierre’s face was suffused with a glow of utter joy.
 
“To Burgundy.
 
To our son.”

Epilogue

Pierre looked down at the sleeping face of his son for the very first time.
 
“He is beautiful,” he whispered in a low voice, not wanting to disturb the boy’s slumber.

Courtney stood by him, her arm around his waist.
 
After all they had been through together, she found to hard to believe that they had reached the safety of Burgundy at last.
 
She was safe here, with all those she loved: her father, her lover, and her precious little son.
 
She looked at her son’s face.
 
He was smiling a little in his sleep, almost as if he knew that his mother and father were united again and looking on him with love.
 
“He takes after his father.”

Pierre could not take his eyes off his boy – his precious treasure.
 
“He will look like you when he is grown.
 
He has my dark hair, but your pale complexion, as white and delicate as a lady’s glove.
 
I will look forward to watching him grow up and becoming a man worthy of his mother.”

Courtney looked up at him, her blue eyes anxious.
 
He did not know what he had just said to upset her.
 
“What is the matter?”

Her eyes were suspiciously wet.
 
She gave them a surreptitious wipe with the edge of her sleeve.
 
“Does this mean that you will be staying with us?”

How could she possibly think otherwise?
 
He loved her until the end of the earth.
 
“Remember what I told you when we were in the Bastille together?
 
That I loved you until the end of my days?”

“You thought the end of your days was about to be reached at the time,” she reminded him in her turn.
 
“Who knows but that you have changed your mind now that you are a free man once more?”

“I have always loved you, from the moment that I first saw you.
 
Now that you have my son, I love you even more dearly.”
 
He went down on one knee in front of their son’s cradle.
 
“Courtney Ruthgard, Musketeer in the King’s Guard, mother of my son, my very own soul mate, will you be my wife?
 
I know that I do not deserve you, but I will study for the rest of my life to make you happy, if you will take me on.”

She looked down at him, kneeling at her feet, and her tears began to flow down her face.
 
“You want to wed with me?
 
Even now?”

He rose to his feet again and clasped her in his arms.
 
“Now more than ever.”

Her smile was tender, even through her tears.
 
“I will trust you now even better than I once did before.
 
Yes - I will be your wife with all my heart.”

He rose to his feet with a cry of joy and kissed her on her upturned face.
 
“I shall respect you better than I used to, my love,” he promised her.
 
“There will be no midnight assignations for us until we are safely wed.”

Courtney shook her head.
 
“I have wasted so many months of my life without you at my side.
 
I have sworn not to waste another second when I could be in your company.”

“You have sworn that on your soul?”

“I have.”

He picked her up in his arms, tossed her over his shoulder and started to carry her out of the door.
 
“Wonderful.
 
I am delighted to hear it.”

Courtney squealed softly as she batted ineffectually at his backside.
 
“What are you doing?”

“God forbid that I should be the cause of making my lovely wife forsworn.
 
I am carting you off to my bed on the instant.
 
I shall not let you get up again until the priest has been readied to wed us.”

She was suddenly assailed by doubt.
 
“You really mean it?
 
You really mean to wed me this time?”

The look of love and adoration on his face was all that she needed to reassure her.
 
“I love you, Courtney de Tournay,” he said.
 
The words, she knew, came from the bottom of his heart.
 
“For your love I have given up my King and country and all else that I once held dear.
 
You are all in all to me.
 
From this day forth, I shall cleave to you and to you alone.”

“As I shall to you, if only you will out me down,” she promised from her precarious perch.

They had reached her bedchamber now.
 
He stopped at the door.
 
“Do I have your word on that?”

“You do.”

He let her bounce gently on to the soft furs that covered her bed before kicking off his boots and coming to lie beside her.
 
“Then let us make up for lost time.”

She held her arms out to him in a heartfelt welcome.
 
How long had it been since he had held her like a husband holds his wife?

He kissed her gently on her lips.
 
In every way that mattered, she was already his wife.
 
He loved her, she loved him, and they had promised their faith to each other.
 
Never would he forsake her.
 
Never again would they be apart.

He stroked her hair with his hand.
 
Her hair was shorter than when he had first known her and her body was maybe not quite so deliciously plump, but in all other respects she was still the same Courtney he had fallen in love with.

Her hands crept shyly over his torso, sending waves of desire pulse through him.
 
He definitely had too many clothes on.
 
As did she.

With a swift movement he stood up to remedy the situation.
 
Courtney watched him with wide eyes as he threw first his jacket and then his breeches on the floor.

“You’re beautiful,” she whispered, as he pulled his shirt over his head to stand before her in utter nakedness, his stiff, proud manhood showing her just how much he desired her.

She moved to stand beside him.
 
“Undress me, too.”

He did not wait to be asked a second time.
 
With fingers shaking with need, he undid the buttons of Courtney’s traveling gown and pushed her linen chemise off her shoulders until all her clothes were pooled at her feet and she stood gloriously in the middle of them, looking like Venus risen from the waves.

As if in a trance they moved together, their lips, hands and bodies seeking each other out with a desperate haste.

Her breasts were as pert and sweet as ever he had remembered them, and her hips as smooth and intoxicating.

With a moan of desire, she guided his hands to her mound.
 
With the tips of his fingers he explored her cleft of passion.
 
She was wet and pulsing with desire, as eager for his loving as he ever could be to love her.

With one accord they tumbled backwards on the bed again.
 
Pierre leaned on his elbows and looked straight into her face, her eyes glazed with desire.
 
“I love you, forever,” he said, as he entered her with one long, slow thrust.

Courtney shuddered underneath him as he stroked her inside and out.
 
“Oh, God, Pierre, I love you, too.”
 

Higher and higher they rose with every stroke, until Pierre could hold out no longer.
 
He felt Courtney buck under him and give a hoarse cry of pleasure as she contracted all around him.
 
Only then did he let himself go, tipping over the edge of passion into a whirlpool of unimaginable pleasure that took him to places he had never dreamed of.

They snuggled together sleepily in happy contentment in the aftermath of their loving, Pierre holding Courtney tight in his arms.
 
She was his now, for all time.
 
He would never let her go.

Read on for a bonus excerpt of MY HEART'S DESIRE, Book 3 in the All for one and one for all series by Kate Silver.

Orphaned and penniless, Miriame Dardagny has learned to survive in the back alleys of Paris using her wits and her quick fingers. When she finds a badly wounded gentleman dying in the streets, she gladly steals his boots, his purse - and his identity. As Jean-Paul Metin, she joins the Musketeers of the King's Guard, certain she has found a way to make her fortune.