Part 36 (1/2)

Midway up, he got caught. With one a.s.sailant a few steps above him and another a few steps below, he could neither retreat nor advance. Simon struck a rhythm between the two attackers-thrust and parry back and forth, trying to fight them off.

The man above lunged at him with his blade. Simon jerked to the side. Grabbing his wrist, he yanked him down impaling him on the sword of Simon's other a.s.sailant. The man shrieked as the blade sliced through his chest. The downward momentum sent him cras.h.i.+ng down onto his comrade, toppling both down the long staircase.

Simon took the rest of the stairs two at a time, shouting Angelica's name. The cries of those skewered still swirling around him.

He slammed open the door to Angelica's private chambers. His blood froze in his veins.

She sat tensely in a chair.

Eight men stood calmly in a row behind her.

Her green eyes were large, looking horrified to see him, almost as though she wanted him to run off rather than have him run in and aid her. As if that was a consideration for him. He'd lay down his life for her.

Nicolas Fouquet appeared quite relaxed, seated calmly to her right in a nearby chair, with a goblet of Robert's favorite burgundy in hand. He looked smug and not the least bit surprised to see him.

Simon squeezed the hilt of Robert's sword, his breathing hard and audible through his flared nostrils.

”Daughter, here he is now.” Fouquet smiled. ”And you said you knew nothing of his whereabouts...Tsk, tsk.”

”Fouquet...” Simon's tone was low, full of barely restrained violence, his every muscle poised with murderous intent.

Fouquet lifted a brow. ”That is my lord to you, beggar born.” He lifted his goblet and took a drink. ”Daughter, do tell, why do you allow this man in your home now that your husband is dead? Oh, don't think to deny it, my dear. Your mode of dress gives you away, not to mention that one of your servants was good enough to advise us of the marquis's death-before the lad met with an unfortunate accident.” Fouquet smiled. Some of his men softly chuckled. He nodded toward Simon. ”This man is no better than a barbarian and far beneath your station.”

Simon snorted. ”Some could say the same of you.”

Fouquet lowered his cup from his thin lips, indignation narrowing his eyes. ”I come from the most distinguished of parliamentary families,” he said. ”You, beggar born, are no more than the son of a fishmonger. Common sc.u.m.”

”Enough!” Angelica rose to her feet. ”You've no right to do what you've done here, forcing your way into my home! Having your men attack my guests. How dare you! Monsieur Boulenger and his men are welcome. You are not. Take these animals”-she gestured to the others in the room-”and get out!”

He could only imagine how difficult it was for her to have to face her stepfather after what he'd done to her. It churned his stomach with disgust each time Fouquet called her ”daughter.” Hearing it was far worse than enduring his insults.

Though Simon had always admired her courage, she was making things difficult for him. He wanted Fouquet's attention to remain solely on him, away from her. Yet there she stood, trying to protect him and his men.

Fouquet calmly placed his goblet down on the table that separated him from Angelica. Studying the state of the fingernails on his right hand, he lightly commanded, ”Do sit down, Angelica.” A man behind her reached out and yanked her down onto the chair by her hair. She cried out and clutched her head.

Simon stepped forward immediately but froze when he saw the gleam of a dagger resting horizontally against her throat-the man who had just forced her to sit, holding it there, perversely gleeful.

A fresh wave of terror slammed into his gut.

”Drop your weapon,” Fouquet ordered Simon. His expression was as cold as the metal of Simon's blade.

”Don't do it,” she whispered hoa.r.s.ely, knowing as well as he how untrustworthy Fouquet was.

Though his entire being rioted against his inaction, Simon stood stock-still. He battled back blinding rage, knowing it would cloud his mind. He would be focused when dealing with devil before him.

Fouquet stood and strolled over to Angelica. Her hands were clenched into tight fists on her lap, and her soft b.r.e.a.s.t.s rose and fell rapidly with her quickened breaths. Simon could see her accelerated pulse on the side of her neck near the blade against her throat. Oh, how you'll pay for terrorizing her this way, Fouquet...

”My stepdaughter is not as intelligent as she is beautiful.” Fouquet took the dagger from the man who held it against her delicate throat and squatted down beside her. Immediately, she looked away. Using the flat of the blade against her jaw, Fouquet turned her head to face him. ”Drop your weapon, beggar born, or watch what I am capable of doing to her.”

She flinched.

Simon pushed back his panic and schooled his features into a smug smile. ”You won't do a thing to her. The king likes her too much. I've seen it with my own eyes. He'll not take kindly to you harming a beautiful woman.”

Fouquet was unfazed. ”I'll tell him you harmed her, beggar born. Who would believe your word over mine?”

Simon laughed mirthlessly. ”You cannot be that arrogant. Why would anyone believe I would harm Robert's widow?”

Praying his confidence would unbalance Fouquet, he pushed him a little further. Simon lifted his arm, pointing Robert's bloodstained sword at Fouquet's chest.

The collective whisper of the eight swords being unsheathed filled the silence around him. He heard Angelica gasp. Unaffected, he remained poised and said, ”Remove that dagger from her, or you'll meet with the end of this sword.”

For an instant, Fouquet's eyes flashed shock. Then his arrogant expression returned. ”You're outnumbered eight to one. You'll never succeed.”

”The end of my blade is only a short distance from you. Willing to wager with your life?”

”You'll be dead too.” Fouquet indicated his men.

”Yes, but I'll take you with me.” His tone was firm, full of resolve. The smugness drained from Fouquet's face. f.u.c.king coward. The man wouldn't last an hour in battle.

The slight color in Fouquet's cheeks was proof he'd further infuriated him. The man didn't like being bested, especially in front of an audience. All the better. He had more public humiliation in store for him. Just wait... The key to success in any battle is knowing when the most opportune moment is to strike.

”I came here for you, beggar born. Not her. Drop your sword, and I'll remove the dagger.”

Simon was relieved to hear it. ”Not acceptable. Remove the dagger, and then I'll drop my blade.”

Fouquet held his gaze. Simon held his breath.

Fouquet tossed the dagger to its owner. Angelica leaped to her feet and placed a safe distance between herself, Fouquet, and the man with the knife. Thankfully, she knew her stepfather well; she didn't run to Simon or do anything to give away the extent of their involvement.

He knew what would happen to him the moment he dropped his sword. His taunts and blatant disrespect wouldn't go unpunished. Wis.h.i.+ng to spare her from witnessing it, he said, ”This is between you and me, Fouquet. Send her away.”

”No,” she protested.

”Send her away.” Simon could feel her gaze on him. He couldn't bring himself to look at her, unsure he had it in him to keep his feelings for her from entering his eyes. Fouquet would use it against them. He couldn't risk it.

His heart lurched when he realized Fouquet was studying her, suspicion growing in his dark eyes. Simon immediately dropped his sword. The clank it made as it hit the floor snapped Fouquet's attention back to him.

Two large men seized his arms and bent them behind his back.

”Stop that!” Angelica's voice rang out. ”Release him!”

Simon shouted in Italian, ”Any man here who understands me and is willing to join me will be paid three times what you've been promised.”

”What is he saying?” Fouquet spun around, looking for comprehension on anyone's face.

Simon noted that not one man understood him. Without looking at Angelica, he continued. ”Don't do anything to indicate you understand, my love. Whatever happens, find as many of my men who are able to ride as you can and send them to your place of birth. Tell them to find the hidden ledgers there and to take them to the king.” Angelica remained silent.

”Enough!” Fouquet commanded and approached.