Surrender to a Stranger (46 page)

“So this is where you’ve been hiding your good-for-nothing ass, is it?” she demanded furiously. “Lying on a bed all day having your meals brought to you like royalty while I’m out in the pissin’ cold freezin’ my butt off to earn money so this brat of yours will have a roof over its head. Well, if you think you can just dump your responsibilities by going and getting yourself arrested you can just think again, you good-for-nothing, lazy bastard, I know you’ve money put away and I intend to see that me and your brat gets our share, do you hear? What kind of man are you that you could leave a woman with a babe on the way and no food on the table? And if you think you can get away with leaving us high and dry just because of your criminal ways, well, let me tell you just how mistaken you are, you filthy traitor….”

Armand blinked as he watched her continue her hysterical tirade. He knew he must be losing his mind. For underneath her greasy, ragged exterior, her pregnant shape, and her gutter language, he felt almost certain he was looking at Jacqueline.

It was utterly, hopelessly impossible, of course. He realized that he must be suffering from some sort of temporary insanity, brought on by the endless minutes and hours and days and nights spent locked in this grotesquely small, dark cell, left alone with nothing but thoughts of her to occupy his mind, the thought of her and the hope that soon he would be executed and this ungodly confinement would be brought to an end. And so he stared at the woman in fascination, somewhat horrified by the trick his mind was playing on him, and yet mesmerized by the shape of her chin, the curve of her mouth, the slant of her smudged little nose. She was pacing now, moving awkwardly, gesturing wildly with her arms as she asked him how he could have betrayed her and his child and France with such a despicable act? She turned to pace to the other side of the cell and the light from the hallway spilled through the open doorway where his jailer was standing, sending a faint splash of light across her face as she looked at him and told him what a low, deceiving son of a bitch he was. And he saw her eyes, silvery gray, burning in their intensity. Enraged. Determined.

And terrified.

His heart leapt into his throat. It was Jacqueline, here, in his cell, acting out some crazy plan, and in that moment he felt such a rush of fury and horror that he could not trust himself to speak. What in God’s name was she doing here? Did she think she was going to sneak him out underneath her skirts?

“She’s got spirit to her, don’t she?” quipped his jailer, who was watching Jacqueline’s performance with great amusement. “If she was mine, I’d have beaten that out of her. Since you’re stuck in here and she’s not, I guess she’ll be havin’ the last word, won’t she?” He laughed, a guttural, sneering sound that made Armand want to grab him by the throat and choke the laughter right out of him.

He had to get her out of here, now, immediately, before she put herself into any further danger. Obviously she was hoping he would play along with her act, acknowledging that she was his mistress. He would do no such thing.

“Citizen Pinard, I do not know this woman,” he stated flatly. “Please remove her from my cell.”

Jacqueline stopped her rambling and stared at him in surprise. What on earth was he trying to do? she wondered frantically. Was it possible that he really did not recognize her yet?

“Ooooh, you’re a low-down bugger not to even admit what you’ve done to me,” she screeched. She turned her attention to the jailer. “I was a good girl before I met him. Now here I am, all alone and about to bring a new citizen of the Republic into the world, not asking for much, just that he give me enough so I can care for the babe and get my strength back, and then hire a wet nurse so I can go out and find some work. He’s got money—where he’s going he won’t be needing it—yet he won’t even own up to the fact that it’s his. What kind of a man would do that to a girl, I ask you?” She began to cry pathetically.

Armand was impressed by her acting. She had certainly improved since he had first met her. “Citizen Pinard, I would like this crazy woman removed from my cell,” he repeated firmly.

“Well now, I’m sure you would,” snorted his jailer, his voice heavy with contempt. “After all, it’s much easier not to have to face one’s responsibilities, isn’t it? Well, you won’t be getting any help from me, you spineless dog. You set things straight with this girl, do you hear?” With that pronouncement he slammed the cell door shut and twisted the lock.

Armand turned to face her, his mind reeling. What the hell was happening? Jacqueline was here, standing before him, locked in his cell, in grave danger, and goddamn it if she wasn’t actually
smiling
at him.

“What in the name of all that’s holy are you doing here?” he ground out in a soft, savage voice.

She did not answer him. She simply stood there, frozen, staring at him, her expression caught somewhere between laughter and tears. And then her lower lip began to tremble, and suddenly he could see just how terrified she was, and all the anger he felt immediately evaporated. He held his arms out to her.

With a muffled cry she threw herself against him. He wrapped his arms tightly around her and ground his lips against hers, roughly, desperately, starving for the taste and touch and scent of her, unable to believe she was real, unwilling to believe she was not. She clung to him as closely as her expanded stomach would allow, making soft little whimpering sounds as she kissed him back with a passion that astounded him. It was insane, he knew that, but in that moment he was prepared to accept the fact that he had absolutely lost his mind, as long as that meant he could keep on holding her.

It was Jacqueline who finally broke the kiss, pushing him to arm’s length so she could think straight.

“You must do as I say,” she whispered urgently as she glanced at the door. She looked down at his leg, wondering which one had been injured. “Can you walk?”

“Of course I can walk,” he snapped softly. What on earth was she talking about?

She pulled up the bottom of her skirts to reveal a large bundle tied around her waist. With fumbling fingers she managed to loosen the rope that held it secure, until it dropped to the floor by her feet.

“We must keep arguing,” she whispered as she began to untie the bundle. She took a deep breath to steady her nerves. “How dare you pretend not to know me, you vile, rotten bastard!” she shrieked.

Armand watched in amazement as she quickly undid the bundle, revealing a gun, a dagger, and a warder’s uniform. How had she managed to get her hands on all that?

“You’ll have to take care of the jailer,” she whispered, handing him the gun, the dagger, and the rope. She quickly shoved the uniform back up her skirt, let out a cry of pain, and collapsed to the floor. “Oh my God, now look what you’ve done, it’s time, it’s time!” she wailed.

Stunned, Armand stared at her as she curled up on the filthy floor in apparent agony.

“Call the jailer!” she hissed. “Oh my God, how could this be happening now?” she cried dramatically.

Gathering his wits, he stuck the dagger in his boot and shoved the pistol in the waistband of his trousers. “Guard!” he yelled, running to the cell door. “Citizen Pinard! Come quickly, there is an emergency!”

“What’s all the noise about?” grumbled Pinard as he peered through the grille.

“I think she’s having the baby,” replied Armand anxiously.

Jacqueline let out a terrible, ear-piercing scream of pain.

“Here now, you can’t be having any brats in here, you’ve got to go,” gasped Pinard as he fumbled for his key.

“Ohhhhh,” moaned Jacqueline, writhing on the floor.

The cell door swung open and Pinard stepped inside. “Listen to me, Citizeness, I am telling you, you cannot have your baby here.” He walked over to where she lay. “Get up and get out now, do you hear me? You cannot—”

Jacqueline let out another scream of pain as Armand brought his pistol crashing down onto the jailer’s head. He grabbed him as he fell so he would not collapse on Jacqueline.

“Take his keys and put him in the bed,” she instructed as she stood up and began to pull the prison uniform out from under her skirts once more.

Armand removed the enormous key ring that was tied to Pinard’s waist and dragged him over to the bed.

“Give me your jacket, and put this uniform on—hurry!” ordered Jacqueline.

He quickly tore off his jacket and handed it to her. She then labored to get it on the unconscious jailer, which was no easy task. Once she had finished she rolled him onto his stomach and tied his hands behind his back. Then she stuffed a kerchief into his mouth and drew the blanket over him, making sure his face was turned toward the wall. If one only took a quick look, and as long as he remained still, it would appear that Citizen Michel Belanger was sleeping in the bed.

She turned to look at Armand, who was almost finished donning the warder’s uniform. It was far too small for him. Jacqueline scooped up the shirt and trousers he had removed and quickly stuffed them under her skirts, making her appear pregnant again.

“You will have to hunch over as we move down the halls,” she told him, taking in his short coat sleeves and the buttons straining across his chest. “You are obviously much bigger than the man who usually wears that uniform.”

He obediently adjusted his stance. “Ready?”

She nodded.

“Then start moaning,” he whispered, opening the door.

Jacqueline began to whimper in pain as she staggered out with him. Armand locked the cell door behind them and they began to hurry down the hallway. Jacqueline sobbed and groaned as she waddled along, clutching her enormous stomach, while Armand hunched over her, supporting her with his arm and keeping his face turned in toward hers, all the while impatiently scolding her for being so foolish as to go out when she was so near her time.

They cleared one hallway without meeting any guards and started down the next. At the far end a warder sitting on a stool watched them approach.

“What’s this then?” he asked with interest.

“The babe has decided it’s time to join us,” snapped Armand irritably, not slowing his pace.

“In here?” returned the guard with disbelief.

“I’ll see how she feels when we get to the front,” he replied. “If the pain is past, she can bloody well go home to have it.” He moved past him.

Down a dark flight of stairs, along another dank hall, passing the miserable, stinking cells Jacqueline had walked by on her way up to visit Armand. Many of the guards they encountered had seen her go in not a half hour earlier and did not seem to be concerned that she was an escaping prisoner. Some of them made crude jokes about her condition. Armand was intimidating as he spoke to Jacqueline, acting like a man who had greater things to worry about than some stupid girl who had come to visit a prisoner and gone into labor in the process. Once again Jacqueline was amazed by his ability to slip into a character so effortlessly. Armand’s act of impatient authority, combined with his uniform and the darkness of the corridors, seemed to be convincing enough for everyone.

“Keep moving—we can’t take responsibility for you—we don’t have the room or the means to birth your child, do you understand?” he snapped as he pushed Jacqueline along.

“Yes,” gasped Jacqueline weakly as she pretended to be enduring a great stab of pain.

“Is there a problem?” called out a voice from behind them.

Armand did not stop. “The citizeness has decided it is time to have her baby,” he replied over his shoulder. “I am taking her to the front gate.”

“Let me help you,” offered the guard, hurrying up behind them. “You should not be—” He stopped in mid-sentence and stared in confusion at Armand. His expression grew hard. “Who the hell are you?”

“Actually, I’m new here,” explained Armand calmly as he released his grip on Jacqueline. “I was just transferred from the Abbaye.”

The guard looked at him suspiciously. “Then you won’t mind coming with me so the warden can confirm that, will you?”

“Not at all,” replied Armand pleasantly. “I’ll just see this girl to the front gate and—”

“Now,” interrupted the guard. “The girl can wait.”

Armand sighed and stepped over to the guard. As he did so Jacqueline clutched her stomach and let out a terrible shriek of pain. The guard took his eyes off Armand to look at her, and Armand grabbed him and smashed him hard against the stone wall. His eyes rolled back into his head as he slumped down against Armand.

“What’s all the racket?” complained a disgruntled prisoner. He pressed his face agaist the grille of his cell door.

“Drunk again,” snapped Armand in exasperation as he dragged the guard over to an alcove and lay him down on the floor. He turned to look at the prisoner. “Go back to bed, Citizen.”

He walked over to Jacqueline and they began to make their way down the hallway once more.

“Not too much further, Citizeness,” he said as they approached the front doorway.

Jacqueline wondered if he was saying it as part of his performance, or if he was actually trying to reassure her.

There were two guards posted at the front doorway. They were great, burly fellows, whose job it was to make certain that no one left the prison without clearance. Armand kept up his irritated tirade as they approached, ordering Jacqueline to go home to have her baby, that they had enough to worry about without women like her coming in to visit prisoners and then suddenly deciding it was time to give birth, and that if she set her mind to it he was sure she would get home in plenty of time to have the child. He huddled over her as if he was trying to support her as she walked, effectively shielding his face from view until they had reached the guards.

“Leaving so soon, Citizeness?” quipped one of the guards as she and Armand approached.

“Ohhhhh,” moaned Jacqueline, pretending to be in too much pain to answer him.

“Looks like her visit gave her more than she bargained for,” joked the other guard as he opened the door for her.

“Come on now, you can make it,” snapped Armand impatiently as he walked with her through the door.

“Where do you think you’re going?” demanded one of the guards.