Her skirts were soaked with seawater by now, and Kate was about to utter an oath of despair at her lack of progress when Deverill’s head jerked up. “Someone is coming.”
Kate followed his gaze to the tunnel entrance. It was then that she heard a sound that was sweet music to her ears: Gabrielle’s voice whispering in French, “Kate, mon amie, are you here?”
“Yes, Gabrielle!” Kate called out. “We are here, locked inside the cell!”
Entering the cave, the Frenchwoman rushed toward them. “Mon dieu, I did not believe Jean would truly attempt murder….”
“You were mistaken, as you can see,” Deverill said dryly. “Are you alone?” he added in an oddly suspicious voice.
“But, yes,” Gabrielle answered. “When Jean did not return from Royan, I feared it would be too late to save you, so I came in search of you.” She held up a fist-sized rock. “With this I shall attempt to break the lock.”
“There is no need. The key is on the shelf, there to your left.”
When she fetched the key, an enormous relief filled Kate—evidently a premature reaction, for Gabrielle paused. “Please, I must have your promise. I will gladly release you if you swear you will not seek revenge and harm my Jean.”
“I will only promise not to kill him,” Deverill replied grimly.
Kate used a softer tone. “Please, Gabrielle. You cannot leave us here to die.”
Apparently she agreed, for she nodded her head as if coming to her senses. “No, certainly not. I will aid you because you aided me, Kate. You defended me to Jean when more easily you could have abandoned me. You had nothing to gain by interceding on my behalf, and much to lose by incurring his wrath. But I beg you both, do not harm him.”
Without waiting for a reply, she used the key to remove the padlock. Deverill pushed open the cell door and guided Kate through, then followed.
Their rescue was just in time, Kate thought. By now the cell was two inches deep in seawater. Gratefully, she hugged Gabrielle. “Thank you, my dear friend,” she said before Deverill put an end to their reunion.
“Come, we must hurry.”
Taking first her hand, then Gabrielle’s, he carefully retraced a path through the tunnel. For the next two minutes they slogged through the rushing waves that flooded the rock floor until they reached the end.
After the dimness of the cave, the bright sunlight was almost blinding. By squinting, though, Kate could see that the beach at the tunnel entrance was fully submerged.
Sitting on the ledge, Deverill eased himself into the surf, then lifted each woman down in turn. With his support, first Gabrielle, then Kate waded through the swirling water to dry land.
Kate’s first urge was to throw herself down on the sandy beach in gratitude, but she settled for turning her face up to the warm sun. They were wet and bedraggled but alive.
—
Transportation was the first order of business. Surprisingly, her horse was where she had left it, grazing on seagrass, as was Gabrielle’s. Deverill helped both of them mount, then swung up behind Kate.
They had reached the coastal road and were halfway to St. Georges when they heard the thunder of hooves up ahead. A score of men were galloping toward them, all brandishing weapons.
Thinking the pirates had returned, Kate felt her heart leap to her throat. But at her back Deverill relaxed and offered reassurance. “They are friends, not foes.”
When the riders drew closer and reined to a halt, she recognized half of the men as Captain Halsey and his crew. Among the others, she was startled to see, were Deverill’s cousin Trey and Beau Macklin.
Frowning in puzzlement, Kate glanced back at Deverill, who explained, “I didn’t trust Louvel to accept our final payment and so sent to England for reinforcements over a week ago.”
“It appears your misgivings were warranted,” Macky said.
“What took you so long?” Deverill asked.
“We only arrived in port this morning,” his cousin answered. “You look a trifle worse for wear, old man.”
Deverill returned a humorless laugh. “You are a master of understatement.”
“Do you even require our services?”
He nodded. “Yes. I prefer to make a show of overwhelming force.”