"Katy, take cover." Winston seized her arm and she felt him pull her against the side of the house, out of sight of the hill above. "Maybe Commandant le Basque is not quite so popular with some of his lads as he seems to think."
"I can very well take care of myself. Captain. Right now I've a mind to kill you both." She wrenched her arm away and moved down the side of the citadel.
"Katy, what . . . ?" As Winston stared at her, uncomprehending, another musket ball from the dark above splattered into the post beside Jacques. He bellowed a curse, then drew the pistol from his belt and stepped into the protection of the roof. When he did, one of the guards from below, wearing a black hat and jerkin, appeared at the top of the iron ladder leading up from the courtyard. Jacques yelled for him to hurry.
"Damn you, vite, there's some fool up the hill with a musket."
Before he could finish, the man raised a long flintlock pistol and fired.
The ball ripped away part of the ornate lace along one side of Jacques's collar. Almost before the spurt of flame had died away, Jacques's own pistol was cocked. He casually took aim and shot the guard squarely in the face. The man slumped across the edge of the opening, then slid backward and out of sight.
"Anglais." He turned back coolly. "Tonight you have just had the privilege of seeing me remind these cochons who controls this island."
Even as he spoke, the curly head of de Fontenay appeared through the opening. When Jacques saw him, he beckoned him forward. "Come on, and pull it up after you. Too many killings will upset my guests' dinner."
The young Frenchman stepped slowly onto the platform, then slipped his right hand into his ornate doublet and lifted out a pistol. He examined it for a moment before reaching down with his left and extracting another.
"I said to pull up the ladder, damn you. That's an order."