Corinne

I can't fucking believe this.

I knew it wasn't a good idea to accept Matthew's help, but this has reached a new level. I was in several predicaments as a Musketeer, I'll admit, but that was always for being a soldier and obeying my commands. There is no way in hell I'm being taken to England to be some stuck up prince's plaything.

Matthew doesn't seem like one to give up easily. I can tell because he looks like hell. He must've really had a fight with Lloyd. He may be quite an ass, but it doesn't seem like he deserves what's happening to him. Then again, I met him only yesterday. Who knows what he's done if such a pompous as Prince Henry wants him.

The officers obey their captain's orders to have us loaded up without delay. I still struggle in their grasp. I've got nothing to lose at this point. Maybe if I'm lucky Andrew will have heard about my situation and bust me out, though, I'm not sure that's much better than what I'm facing right now. I'm bound to get the verbal lashing of my life.

After we're forced onto their ship, they push us into a room no bigger than a closet. This ship is obviously not suited for prisoners or else we'd be put in a cell. I can't see Matthew well with only a speck of light seeping into the room, but his breaths are loud and shaky.

"Damn it."

"Great plan," I growl. "Now you're getting us both killed."

"If you hadn't left me, maybe we'd actually have a chance!"

I shove him, though not convincingly enough. "You don't know the Hell I've gone through. I'm done watching out for people."

"No, you don't know the hell I've gone through. Maybe think about something besides yourself for once in your life."

I want to argue, but there's too much truth in his words. All this time I've been thinking only of what I need. Matthew saved me from imminent death despite not needing to. He took me with him to France despite not needing to. This whole time he's stuck by my side, and what did I do? I abandoned him. I abandoned him when he needed my help the most.

"I'm sorry," I whisper. "We'll find our way out of this. I promise. We're too good to be Prince Henry's."

"Maybe you aren't."

"What did you do to him anyway? Steal his girl?"

He chuckles, but it's not genuine. "No, unfortunately. My fate would be much better if I had. Maybe a year or two on the dungeon?"

"That's it?" Doesn't sound much better to me.

"Well, I did some bad things while in England and Prince Henry doesn't like me very much."

"You've met?"

"Yes. He's stupidly attractive, sleeps with the maids, and kicks puppies for a living. Both of his brothers are exactly the same."

I smile. "And you know this how?"

"I… used to work there."

He's lying. I'm sure of it. I may have only known Matthew for a day, but I've already picked up on certain things. He always casts his eyes down when he lies. He's good at masking it—must've learned from an expert—but I've learned things throughout the years.

All the same, I don't question him. Instead we stand in silence, closer than I'm comfortable with. Our chests are pressed together, and I can feel his breath on my skin. A shiver passes down my spine, but it's not due to Matthew. My dress is soaked from waist down. The officers would do anything to get me onto that ship, even drag me through freezing water.

"I can't go back there," he whispers. "I just can't. I worked too hard to get where I am today."

"We won't, Matthew. We'll get out of here. It'll be okay."

He doesn't reply to me, but I doubt he believes me. It shocks me how vulnerable he sounds. I'm so used to his gruff, serious voice, but now he sounds so much younger, so innocent. I wonder how many horrors of the world he's seen to make him like this.

We don't speak for the rest of the night. Eventually the deck quiets down and no other voices are heard. I can't rest, if not for my restraints or my uncomfortable quarters, then for the situation I'm in. Matthew almost seems like he's sleeping, but I know he couldn't be.

My hands shake unwillingly. The cold is really getting to me at this point the night, but I'm just glad we're not out in the main deck where the wind is relentless. But all the same, at this rate I'd be near-death by the time we got back to England.

"Are you okay?" Matthew asks, his breath pleasingly warm.

"I-I… cold."

"I-I'd offer you my coat, but I'm currently in a predicament."

I let out the slightest laugh. "I know."

He's already pressed against me, but I can tell he's doing even more so. I can feel the heat rising to my face, and I'm suddenly thankful for the dark. My back presses against the wall as his body flushes against mine. His nose brushes my neck, his breath sending pleasurable heat to my chest. Despite being embarrassed by our situation, I can't deny the warmth it gives me.

"Is that better?" he whispers.

I nod. "Yes."

This isn't my first time pressed against a wall. Most of those were in very different situations, but a very similar positions. Most were with Louis, I'll admit. Clothes would be scattered, kisses exchanged, and promises that would never be kept. The same thing happened with James. It's a vicious cycle that I have vowed never to repeat.

The door creaks open, and I gasp. Matthew jumps back, leaving me longing for his warmth as wind comes and chills me to the bone. A Redcoat stands there, his face urgent yet amused. "You two cozying up to each other, I see."

"What do you want?" I snarl.

The officer looks taken back but shakes his head. "There's no time to explain. All I can say is I'm here to get you out. Come with me."

Matthew and I glance at each other, but I nod at him to go. Whether it's a hoax or not, it's our only chance. As Matthew steps out of the closet, the officer pulls out a knife. "My name's Carl, Carl Wentworth. My father served in the French military." As he starts cutting the rope that binds Matthew's hand, I study the officer. He's very young, no more than 17, but there's age in his voice. He's seen things.

"I work for King Louis."

I choke at the name. "You do?"

"Yeah. I can't say a lot, but I know Matthew holds citizenship in France. I'm not sure about you, Miss, but by the order of the king you have rights to enter his country."

I glance at Matthew, his hands free of rope. "Matthew ceased to mention he had ties to the king." What else has he kept from me?

"I don't have ties to him. I just have rights as a citizen of France."

Within another minute, my hands are free, and Carl slides his knife back into his sheath. "You must be silent now. I'm going to get you out of here." We follow him over to the side of the ship. Again, to my dismay, there's another rowboat. "This will have supplies for a few days, not that you'd need it."

Matthew nods, though I know he's not too fond of his. "What if—" But his words don't need to be spoken.

"ALERT! PRISONERS ESCAPING!" Within seconds of their comrade's shout, several officers emerge from underdeck.

"Go!" Carl shouts, pulling a pistol from his belt.

"But what about you?" I ask as Matthew's hand wraps around my wrist, yanking me toward the boat.

"Go! You only need to get to that rock!" He points into the distance, and through the haze of the night, I can see the slightest outline of a rock. "That marks the French borders. We can't go beyond that."

"And if that doesn't work?"

"I have a plan."

"Hey! Come on." Matthew wrap an arm around me and lifts me down into the boat. I gasp as a gun fires, but I'm relieved when I see Carl hasn't been hit. Within seconds, we're falling down to the water. We land, but the impact sends me flying out of the boat.

The water stings my eyes. That's the first thing I notice. My vision blurs as I suddenly realize my lack of oxygen. I open my mouth to scream for help, but that obviously doesn't help. I start to panic, but an arm wraps around me, and I'm lifted out.

Gunshots still go off. For a moment I think their target is Carl, but he still stands at the edge of the ship. Most of them don't have guns on hand after being woken in the middle of the night. Instead, I realize they're aimed at us.

A bullet flies past my face, missing me by a centimeter.

I choke out water as Matthew rows us. Thankfully it's not a heavy boat, manageable for one man to row. I sit up and grab a paddle to help, but that's when I see the crimson blood on my paddle.

"Matthew, what happened? Are you okay?"

His face is scrunched up in what I thought was concentration, but blood runs down his arm. That's not an expression of concentration, that's an expression of pain. "Just keep rowing," he hisses.

The rock is closer than I realized. We're not a quarter-mile from it. I can still see the battle on the ship that takes place. Carl seems to be throwing liquid around the deck. It's too dark to be water. In fact, it's pure black. No guns fire, and that's when I realize exactly what it is.

The rock is so close. Just a few minutes more and we'd be free. I'd be free. I help Matthew as best I can, but I know it's him doing most of the work. I row as hard as I can, but it makes little difference.

"Matthew, you need help. Where'd the bullet hit you?"

His face is twisted in agony. "I-I'm fine."

"No, you aren't. Take a break. We'll be fine."

He shakes his head. "No, we won't. They'll send out their boats, and they will come and get us. I can't go back there."

"I know you can't, but you have to take it easy. It won't be good for either us of us if you die right now."

He secures the paddles onto the boat and lies back. "It's my arm."

I crawl over to him and gingerly press my hand to his elbow. The bullet hit him, but it wasn't imbedded anywhere. It's really just a matter of cleaning it and making sure he doesn't bleed to death. How easy.

"Okay. Okay, this will be all right. It'll be fine. We'll get past the rock and we'll get help."

"From who? Who will help two fugitives get medical help?"

I grab his knife and cut off the sleeve of his shirt. "We're not fugitives in France."

"Oh, I am. I'm a fugitive everywhere."

"Oh, shut up." The gash on his arm bleeds profusely, staining my dress a deep red. I grab our supply kit and find a few near-moldy loaves of bread, some water, bandages, and… whiskey. Damn English. I pour the whiskey onto his gash, and he lets out a shriek.

"My God, Woman!"

"Call me woman again, and I will push you off this boat." He shuts his mouth and starts grumbling, but I can see the slight smile on his face. I wrap the bandages around his arms. I curse myself for blushing when I feel the tight skin of his muscles. Being a fugitive must do amazing things to your body.

I start rowing the boat as I watch Carl stand there behind his platform of oil, a match in his hand. And as we pass the rock that marks the end of England, I can only hear him shout one thing as he drops the match:

"VIVE LA FRANCE!"

(A/N: Ahhh this scene fucked me up. Real. Good. Pretty much all of it tbh. Just wait til the next few chapters, though, because it is getting INTENSE here soon.

Replies!

PrincessGeekelle: Charles I didn't actually have any children, so I just made them up. I wish I didn't have to, though, because that kinda bummed me out. :/

TorquaTortle: HAHA You're such a fangirl, probably more than me. Ikr Matthew is horrible bc he's the type of personality I love in fictional dudes and aghhhhh He is good lookin trust me hehehe William is such a fuckboy honestly. That Russian party interests me, though, I'll have to mention it sometime again. You literally always sail my ships and I love it okay you go glen coco. HONESTLY THO ARAMINA IS LIFE.

Thanks for reviewing! I really appreciate it!

Weatherbug02)