The Escape (5 page)

When they left the milliner’s, Eric hadn’t thought about it, had simply done it. But now, with Gabrielle clearly terrified as she walked between him and André, Eric wondered if he should have discussed it with her, reminded her.

What had she and André discussed while he’d been acquiring her new clothes? There hadn’t been time once he’d returned, but now Eric realized he should have made that time. He’d been so focused on Gabrielle—suddenly finding her as he had yesterday on the street, her here today, the solid beauty of her as she met him at the park, touching her, hearing her voice. He hadn’t thought simply reacted.

He wanted to return to the Club now, before her damned brother could locate her and before curfew.

André, carrying a satchel filled with, among other things, the jewels Gabrielle had taken from the house, leaned over and whispered something to Gabrielle, who smiled and nodded, relaxing her shoulders. For the first time since the three of them had met, Eric knew jealousy. It slammed through him with the force of a shot.

The street before him darkened as anger followed fast on the heels of that jealousy.

Once he’d found her, once he knew she’d return to the park and he’d see her again, Eric had never considered his future not including both André and Gabrielle. For the last years it had been only the two of them, but Eric knew without André saying a word that the hole left by Gabrielle’s absence could never be filled.

Now he wondered if perhaps those two years had changed Gabrielle in ways he hadn’t let himself think about.

Eric shook his head at his own foolishness. She’d been back with them less than a full day; no decisions had been made. No choices about the future. She willingly went with them from the milliner’s to the Club and, from what she’d said about Theodore, Gabrielle wouldn’t be returning to that household any time soon.

“Gabrielle,” he said in a quiet voice, “is everything alright?”

She didn’t directly answer, and Eric looked down at her. Vivid blue eyes looked up at him, studying him as they wove through the afternoon crowds.

“I tried,” she admitted so quietly Eric almost missed her words. “I tried time and again to return to the Club. I thought you were dead, but at least there, I knew a member or even Bernard would tell me where you were buried. Every time,” she said then stopped.

They walked in silence for several feet before he heard her clear her throat. When she spoke again, her voice held a quality he hadn’t expected. Bitterness. “Every time I slipped from Theodore’s house, every time I thought I’d make it this time, that I’d finally be home again, he found me.”

“He won’t find you again,” Eric said. He infused more confidence in his voice than he felt. Oh, not over Theodore’s ineptness in finding her once they returned to the Club, that didn’t bother him. The Hellfire Club had a long history of hiding in plain sight, and Eric knew their own guards would never let anyone, let alone a disgraced ex-member like Theodore, back in.

Over Gabrielle’s head he met André’s eye and knew his lover thought along the same lines. Theodore would never touch Gabrielle again. But neither of them knew much about this general Gabrielle had found herself engaged to. What resources did he possess?

“He has before,” Gabrielle was saying. Her voice trembled and she stumbled on the curb.

Eric caught her and held her more securely against his side. He wouldn’t let go of her now.

“Theodore has before yes. But you aren’t the same woman,” Eric pointed out reasonably. He swallowed his anger at Theodore, at the fates that had kept the three of them separated for so long. Gabrielle sounded truly frightened, and he didn’t want to add to her fears.

“What do you mean?” she asked, but she walked smoother now, more relaxed, her gait even as they crossed Paris.

“You’re a merchant’s wife now, not the fiancée of a general of the Revolution.” Eric nodded at her clothes and led them along the sidewalk, careful to keep his voice low. Police spies lurked on every corner, in every man and woman who passed them on the streets.

“No one will look twice at you, not in these clothes.” Eric had made sure of that. “You’re dressed as every other poor merchant’s wife now, just as a good Citizen would.”

Gabrielle’s look of surprise turned to one of relief, and Eric closed his fingers over her hand. He desperately needed to touch her, to reassure himself she was real and not a very vivid dream. All last night, long after he’d returned to the small apartment he and André shared, Eric worried he’d imagined the entire encounter.

“He’ll never find you again,” Eric promised. Some of the anger he felt at Theodore seeped into his tone, making it sound harder than he intended.

She nodded up at him, but he wondered how much she truly believed him. They continued on in silence, Gabrielle trying, and failing, to look nonchalant as she scanned the faces they passed. Eric couldn’t blame her and walked faster. André, silent beside Gabrielle, suddenly jerked his head to one side.

Eric immediately turned left instead of right and took the long way to the Club. He didn’t see whatever it was André had, but didn’t question his lover. Long practice taught him never to take André’s paranoia lightly.

Whoever had sparked André’s unease hadn’t followed them, and the rest of the walk to the Club was made with relative ease.

Half a mile from the catacomb entrance, very few people wandered the streets. Those that did paid no mind to them, and Eric easily slipped into the entrance. Once inside, André led them quickly through the darkened tunnels. At the cross-section, he whistled.

No one answered.

Eric waited, knew André had moved ahead into the silence. Gabrielle said nothing, but he could sense her unease. The fear she tried to suppress on their walk here now threatened to overwhelm her. Now holding her hand, guided her further into the catacombs they all knew so well.

He wanted to soothe her, but didn’t want his voice to carry. No answering signal could only mean trouble. Had the National Police discovered them? Even now, were Robespierre’s minions gleeful with the knowledge that they’d found the infamous and elusive Hellfire Club?

He guided Gabrielle, who had regained her composure, closer to the main entrance. By the time André opened the doors, and nodded them through the entrance, none of the scared woman remained. In her place, the once confident and vibrant woman Eric had fallen in love with blossomed.

Bernard, one of the main organizer’s of the Club, stood behind a large, ornately carved wooden desk. He glared at André, who glared straight back, then to Eric. Whatever Bernard wanted to say to the men died in his throat.

“Mademoiselle Bertrand!” he exclaimed, coming round the desk.

In what was surely the first breach of protocol for the patrician Hellfire Club warden, Bernard embraced Gabrielle as if greeting a long lost daughter.

“How good it is to see you again,” Bernard said. Eric stared at the man as he came as close to gushing as Eric had ever seen. “We’ve missed you here.”

“I’ve missed you as well, Bernard,” Gabrielle replied with a light laugh and a kiss on his cheek. She pulled back and said in a serious voice, “It’s a delicate situation, but if my brother should come looking for me…”

Bernard held up his hand and returned behind his desk. “Say no more
Mademoiselle
. He won’t make it past these doors. In here,” he said with no pretentiousness, “you are safe.”

Eric glared at the old man and wanted to call him out for his words. Where was this promise two years ago when Theodore
had
taken Gabrielle from the Club? Where was this genuine honesty when Theodore had endangered Gabrielle and then, once they were caught by the National Police, sold her like a whore?

“Thank you, Bernard,” Gabrielle said with another smile.

Bernard cleared his throat and at least had the decency to look contrite. “Mademoiselle,” he began, “as pleased as I am to see you, I’m afraid I must ask for your
masque
.”

Gabrielle turned in surprise. “
Masque
?”

“Yes,” Bernard nodded, but didn’t elaborate.

“I have it.” André, looking none too happy, stepped forward and held out the satchel he carried. Inside were all three of their
masques
. Bernard, not at all contrite, nodded and smiled again at Gabrielle before waving them off.

“
Monsieurs
LeClair and St. Germaine.” Bernard called just as André had started to lead Gabrielle from the entranceway.

Eric turned and glared at the man, not in any mood to hear another word. He respected Bernard, but refused to leave Gabrielle’s safety in anyone’s hands but his and André’s. Never again would he trust another as he once had. She’d been taken from them once, forcibly dragged from the Club as no one here tried to help her; stop Theodore.

“Comte de Courville asked to see you should you return,” Bernard said evenly.

“I’ll contact him when it’s convenient,” Eric said shortly.

Gabrielle gave Eric an inquisitive look at his abruptness, but André led her away and she allowed him, slipping her arm through his and leaning close. They traversed the labyrinth hallways toward their old rooms, a path Eric wondered if Gabrielle remembered well. She walked stiffly, as if nerves tighten her step. Her awkward gait worried him, and Eric wondered if she was truly ready for this. They didn’t have to do more than stay in the same room together, though he was already hard for her, needed to have her now.

The deeper they moved into the catacombs, the more things looked as they once had, the more Gabrielle’s nerves showed through. He wondered what she saw when she looked around. Did she see memories of their time together? Nothing much had changed in the Hellfire Club since
la revolution
had begun. Or did she see a present she had no real part in? She’d been accepted back into the Club, but only because they’d confiscated a masque for her just in case they found her again.

Did she feel alienated here? No longer a full member but a woman to be tolerated because of her lovers? Anger slashed through him, but more than that, Eric feared her response. Gabrielle couldn’t lie about her feelings for he and André—he’d known her too long and too intimately to not believe she still felt the same as she had the last time they’d seen each other.

But…but. Two years was a long time.

They continued to walk through hallways decorated with the finest tapestries French nobility could once buy, with candelabras and paintings. Even in the midst of revolution, enough candles illuminated the room to light an entire avenue.

In the larger chambers they passed, groups indulged in what they enjoyed most in the Hellfire Club—sex. Eric led them past a couple energetically enjoying each other while another couple looked on, enjoying them. Two men feasted on a third who knelt on a table bound and blindfolded, his cock hard as the men took turns mercilessly teasing him.

Not an unusual sight at the Hellfire Club, particularly when passing certain rooms. But Eric needed to take Gabrielle and hold her close. He ushered her faster along the corridor, past the open rooms. It was an old habit, and by the look she gave him, the reminiscent smile, she well remembered it. That smile eased him somewhat, but he could tell she was still nervous, still anxious as to what might happen.

Everything they saw, the people, the paintings, the tapestries, all of it lining those open rooms, all paled in comparison to what he wanted to do with Gabrielle. Since seeing her yesterday, Eric wanted to forget everything—the danger, the years between them, even the fact of her impending marriage. He cared naught for that and wanted only her. Wanted her between he and André, wanted to hear her cry out in pleasure, wanted to feel her body moving against his.

Curling his hands into fists, lest he touch her, rush her, Eric silently led André and Gabrielle to their rooms. Despite the lack of Gabrielle, he and André agreed to maintain their oversized room no matter the cost, confident one day they’d find her.

As they turned into their rooms, the same curtains hanging over the bed they’d once shared, the same floor rugs and paintings, Eric saw that Gabrielle’s nervousness grew. She no longer walked close to André, in fact held herself aloof and rigid at his side. Her gait hesitated with every step, and her breathing raced. The confident and vivacious woman who greeted Bernard disappeared beneath the weight of time. Her hands bunched the rough fabric of her gown, her shoulders hunched as if afraid of a blow.

Anger colored Eric’s vision. What had that bastard Theodore done to her?

The three of them stood in the center of the room, André held Gabrielle’s hand, fingers lightly stroking her arm, inner elbow, her palm. She didn’t jerk from his touch, but could barely meet his gaze.

As tenderly as he could manage, Eric asked, “Do you remember our first night, Gabrielle? I remember it so clearly.”

André gave him a wicked grin, knowing exactly what he planned. Having placed the satchel on a far chair, André joined them in the center of the room.

“Ah, Eric,” André said, stalking closer to Gabrielle. He moved like a predator, smooth and sleek and Eric hardened at the sight. “You’re referring to that jumpy wisp of a girl we found slinking through the corridors that night.”

André gently turned Gabrielle, whose shoulders had lost their tension, and began to unbutton her coarse gown. His mouth glided along her shoulder, and she shivered. Eric caught her chin and watched her, lowering his head to place soft kisses along her jaw, at the corner of her mouth.

“Her eyes as wide as I’ve ever seen,” André continued, slipping her gown off her shoulders. “Mouth agape in wonder as she stared into the Crimson Room.”

Eric cupped her breasts, mouth teasing down her delicate throat as he toyed with her nipples. Gabrielle’s breath came in short gasps, her head fell back but she didn’t speak. He felt a new tension coil through her body, saw the spiraling need of arousal further darken her cobalt eyes.

“And you hadn’t even been properly introduced to the Black Room,” Eric added. He took one chemise-covered nipple into his mouth, biting on the sensitive nub as he knew she liked.