Malnourished as they were, the horses couldn’t continue such a pace indefinitely. He’d had to walk next to his horse from time to time, leading it while Charlie rode or joined him on the ground despite his protests. She matched his long-legged stride, giving him no ammunition to use to convince her to ride. Although they’d taken frequent breaks at streams to water and rest the horses, the ten or fifteen minutes idled there hadn’t given them time for a proper meal.
Through all this punishment, Charlie hadn’t uttered a word of complaint. In fact, once or twice she’d even insisted she had rested enough and spurred them onward. She was made of sterner stuff than her delicate countenance suggested.
Nevertheless, by the time they three found themselves ensconced in the dining room, Gray barely had enough energy left to eat, let alone to attend to the conversation between Charlie and Stills. Stills, having gotten solid sleep in a bed, was much more alert than Gray and served the three of them their meal. Gray ate it without tasting it.
When Charlie tapped him on the arm, Gray was only too happy to bid his second-in-command goodnight and stagger above stairs, where their room awaited. It was just as cramped as last night’s room—more so, in fact, given that this one didn’t come equipped with a hearth. The air was stale. Gray opened the small window to let in some of the balmy summer air. It wasn’t raining today, and a dense humidity seemed to have curled around them, one that couldn’t be dispersed by the robust wind.
Charlie led him by the elbow toward the screen in the corner of the room. “You wash up first tonight. You look dead on your feet.”
He rubbed his face. “I’ll be fine.”
“Yes. You will be. Once you’ve had a solid night’s sleep. We did well, finding an inn not long after dark.”
He couldn’t argue with that.
After she bullied him behind the screen, she rummaged in his satchel and found some folded clothes. She offered them over the top of the screen, her eyes averted despite the fact that he hadn’t yet begun to undress. “Will these do?”
“I imagine they’ll do admirably, thank you.”
He changed quickly, lamenting the fact that the necessity to travel light meant that he had only one more set of clean clothes. He put them on, but as much as he wanted to air out his other clothes and render them wearable for the morrow, he didn’t think it was proper to do so in front of a lady. He folded them neatly and returned them to the satchel instead.
When he emerged, clad in shirtsleeves and breeches once more, he found Charlie curled on the bed, her knees tucked to her chest and her hand slipped beneath her cheek. She wasn’t even snoring. He considered waking her so she could change into her nightgown but decided against it.
She’d matched his pace so readily, but the day must have been grueling for her to have fallen asleep so quickly. In fact, he felt near joining her. He could barely keep his eyes open. Gently, he removed her slippers and tucked them behind the screen next to his boots. He set his pack next to hers beside the door and returned to the bed. Tucking his arm around her, he held her close and lifted her to strip down the coverlets and sheets. She roused as he set her gently on the bed again.
“Anthony?” Her voice was gravelly with sleep.
“Sleep, love,” he said softly. “I’ll rouse you in the morning.” He fought with the blankets, this time taking the thin sheet for himself and leaving her with the thicker coverlet.
As he draped it over her, she caught his wrist. “Aren’t you coming to bed?”
Yes. He licked his lips. What harm would it do? He was far too tired to endanger her virtue tonight.
But tomorrow, after he had a full night’s rest and woke to her pressed against him…
“No. I’ll sleep on the floor. Get some rest.”
There was only one pillow on the bed, so he rolled up his cloak and stretched out in the narrow space next to the bed. If she got up in the night, she might trip over him.
Fortunately, they both were too exhausted for further argument on the topic. Charlie fell asleep again without comment. If she snored, Gray didn’t hear her. He slept that deeply.
When he next woke, it was to a throbbing head and Charlie’s groan.
“My head… Anthony, where did you put the packs?”
“By the door.” He winced as the sound of his voice renewed the pounding in his skull. When Charlie stirred in bed, he shut his eyes tight and held still as she stepped over him.
“Which door? I only see the one.”
“That’s the only bloody door in here.” He wasn’t proud of his descent into profanity, but Lord have mercy, his head hurt. He sat up, rubbing it.
“They aren’t here. Are you sure you didn’t set them behind the screen?”
What in the blazes? He rubbed his eyes and stared blearily at the empty spot near the door where he’d set down the packs. The room spun a bit.
Charlie danced from foot to foot. “Would you mind vacating the room? I need to use the chamber pot. Perhaps we left the packs downstairs. It might bear checking.”
He accepted his boots from her and let her herd him from the room. Only once the door shut behind him did clarity return. He couldn’t have left the packs in the dining room, for they’d needed them in order to change clothes last night. His stomach sinking like a stone, he ambled downstairs to check.
He found Stills seated at a table in front of a hearty breakfast of bacon and eggs.
“Captain.” The lieutenant started to stand, but Gray waved him down.
“Have you seen Charlie’s and my satchels?”
“You mean the ones you brought up with you last night?”
Gray swore at the confirmation.
Alarmed, Stills rose. His hand flew to the pistol on his belt as if he was ready to do battle. “What’s the matter?”
“Our packs weren’t in our room this morning.” How could Gray have slept through an intruder? In fact, hadn’t he locked the door? He couldn’t recall. Shaking his head, he asked, “Where is yours?”
“With the horses.”
They both bolted for the stables. Gray hoped to find all three packs safe and sound. Instead, all they found were the two skinny horses.
Gray cursed the air blue. The packs contained their clothes, their provisions, the bloody compass, even the bulk of his money. All he had left were the few coins he kept tucked into his boot in case of pickpockets.
They’d been robbed.
19
If not for his family name, Gray didn’t know what he would have done. The few coins he had left would purchase a meal or perhaps a room, if he wasn’t terribly picky about the state of the bed; it would not cover the two meals, room, and stabling at the ramshackle inn.
Fortunately, the innkeeper was so apologetic over the fact that Gray had been robbed blind that he had been convinced to settle the account with Gray’s older brother, Morgan. Gray had scrawled a quick explanation and note of apology for this unforeseen expense to be delivered to his brother with the request for payment.
Unfortunately, they didn’t have time to chase down the thieves or their belongings. Without a compass, Gray would have to rely on his wits and the directions he received. Since the innkeeper knew of his family, he asked the man directly for the shortest route to Tenwick Abbey. This time, Gray was taking no chances.
Then it made no sense, as they stopped at a fork in the road, that the same information Stills had gleaned from the innkeeper conflicted with what the man had told Gray.
“I’m certain he said to turn left,” Stills said, his voice adamant. “I was very clear on where we meant to go; I even mentioned Locksley as the nearest town.”
“I was also clear,” Gray said, his voice tight. “He instructed me to turn right.”
Had he misheard? Blast—he had been so meticulous to repeat the directions back, hoping to avoid such a mishap. No, it must be Stills’s error.
“Sir, I’m afraid—”
“We will turn right.” Gray’s voice was final. Behind him,
Charlie adjusted her hold. She didn’t speak a word.
Stills’s mouth flattened into a thin, mulish line. For a moment, Gray thought he might try to contradict him or stubbornly take the other path regardless. Gray handled the situation as he would have at sea. He squared his shoulders and stared down his longtime second-in-command. I am the commanding officer. Even if he didn’t have a vessel to command, at present.
After a tense moment, the man capitulated. “Very well, sir. While we’re stopped, would you mind if I used the bushes to p—” He glanced at Charlie and changed what he was about to say. “Relieve myself?”
Gray nodded. He dismounted to hold the reins of the other horse while Stills escaped into the tree cover. Charlie also slid off the horse in order to stretch her arms and legs.
“Would you like to make use of the bushes as well?”
She shook her head. “Thank you, but I’m fine.”
He stifled a sigh and glanced up at the cloud-dotted sky.
Not long later, Stills emerged. They mounted and continued down the right path. Before ten minutes had passed, Stills’s steed entered a frenzy.
The lieutenant struggled to remain on horseback as his mount reared, shrieking. Stills shouted, not helping to calm the horse at all. As the horse lowered onto all four legs, it shrieked again and bucked Stills out of the saddle. Charlie clutched Gray’s middle as he shortened the reins, encouraging their mount to back away rather than get caught up in the calamity. The moment Stills landed on the ground, his arms curled around his head, Charlie loosened her hold.
“Oh dear.” She slid from the horse’s rump and skirted the edge of the path to see to Stills’s welfare. As she knelt beside him, she gently touched his shoulder. “Lieutenant Stills, are you injured?”
Lud! Gray hoped not. He dismounted swiftly. He looped his steed’s reins around a tree then slowly approached the other. It favored its right foreleg as it danced away. While Charlie tended to Stills, Gray cooed softly to the horse, trying to convince it that he wasn’t a threat. If it bolted, it might trample Stills and Charlie in its panic.
The moment he succeeded in approaching the horse, he stroked the beast on the nose and tied the reins to a different tree, out of reach of his mount. When he ran his hand down the horse’s front leg to examine the injured area, he found it hot to the touch. Confound it! He didn’t know enough about equine injuries to be able to say for certain, but at his guess, the horse was now lame. It certainly wouldn’t be able to bear a rider if it could barely bear its own weight.
What were they to do? His mother’s life was in danger, and they’d gone from three horses to one.
His heart thrumming, he crossed to stand behind Charlie, who helped Stills to sit up. Gray clasped his hands behind his back, trying to bury his impatience over yet another delay in a long string of them. After all, his longtime companion might be hurt. If he was, the closest place to seek help was likely the town they’d passed an hour ago. An hour moving in the wrong direction, with a lame horse and a man who might not be able to keep his seat even if the horse could bear him, would not do.
A groan escaped Stills’s lips as he tested his range of movement. “I’m all in one piece, Captain.”
Gray stifled a sigh of relief. “It’s more than I can say for the horse. It might be lame. It’s certainly favoring its leg.”
Charlie released Stills to sit under his own power, which he seemed perfectly capable of doing. She twisted to look up at Gray. “What does that mean?”
“It means we’ll have to walk. If you’re capable, Lieutenant. If not, we do have one more horse. You can ride mine while Miss Vale and I walk.” It was unconscionable to ask a lady to walk when she could be astride, but Stills was injured, after all.
He grimaced as he stood. “I’m able to walk. I’ll lead my horse, sir.”
Nodding, Gray said, “Very well. Charlie?”
Scowling, she got to her feet and brushed off her skirt. “I’m not an invalid. I’m capable of walking on my own. Lieutenant Stills is—”
“I said I am well, Miss Vale. Please take me at my word.” Stiffly, Stills thrust his shoulders back and clasped his hands behind him.
“What happened?” Gray asked. This latest mishap didn’t sit well with him. It was as though the universe were conspiring to assure that he didn’t reach Mother in time.
“A garden snake on the path, sir. It must have spooked the horse. It’s a stroke of bad luck that the horse became lame because of it.”
A stroke of bad luck… or a purposeful design. If Stills hadn’t been thrown from his horse, Gray might begin to suspect that he was behind these mishaps. After all, it couldn’t be Charlie’s fault—he made it his purpose to be her guardian throughout this trip. She never left his sight, save to use the bushes, and she was as driven to save his mother’s life as he was.
Stills, on the other hand, had no such personal stake in the outcome of their mission. Why had he relinquished a command post so readily to follow Gray into the English wilderness?
“With the horse lame, we’ll lose more time. We should waste as little of it as possible. Are you ready to continue?”
Stills nodded, solemn.
Gray herded Charlie toward the horse they shared. “I said I can walk,” she protested loudly.
“We’ll take turns,” he promised, though he meant no such thing.
That seemed to placate her somewhat, at least long enough for him to corner her under the ruse of adjusting the stirrups.
Softly, he murmured, “Don’t react if you can manage.”
Her lips barely moved as she whispered back, “React to what?”
“To what I’m about to tell you. Do you find this latest mishap at all suspicious?”
Charlie stroked the horse’s nose, pretending to pay him no mind. “The horse’s panic, you mean?”
“The lame horse is eerily similar to what happened to your horse shortly after we set out. This after the good lieutenant seemed adamant to lead us in the wrong direction a second time.” Although Gray didn’t voice as much, he had to wonder if Stills had a hand in robbing them, as well.
Charlie’s lower lip wobbled. She started to turn to look behind her, at Stills, but she visibly stopped herself. She held Gray’s gaze instead. “You think he’s sabotaging us?”
“I wonder if we would have made it to Tenwick Abbey already if he weren’t here.”
When he beckoned her forward, Charlie came complacently. She pressed her lips together as he gripped her by the waist and transferred her, sidesaddle, onto the horse. It would be awkward to ride like that, no doubt, given that they no longer had a sidesaddle to offer her, but with Gray leading the horse he hoped she would be able to keep her seat.
His hand lingered around her hips as he leaned close enough to add, “I don’t know why he doesn’t want us to reach Mother in time, but one thing is clear. We’ve an enemy in our midst.”
By the time they reached the next rest point to water the horses, when Anthony had promised to speak more on his warning away from the possibility of Lieutenant Stills overhearing, Charlie’s stomach was in knots. She tried to remain as serene and composed as Mama, but she feared she didn’t do much good.
She laid her hands on Anthony’s shoulders as he reached up to lift her down. However, the moment her toes touched the ground, her knees turned to jelly. She would have fallen if not for Anthony’s support.
He adjusted his hold on her and used his solid body to keep her upright. “Steady. It’s all right. I’ve got you.”
Charlie tilted her face up to his, but when she tried to thank him, her voice fled toward her navel. They stood close enough for her to feel his breath fanning her hair.
Anthony raised his voice. “Stills? Could you take the horse? Miss Vale isn’t accustomed to riding and needs my support for a moment.”
“Of course, sir.”
Charlie jumped at the nearness of his voice, that of an enemy, the man they’d traveled with, Anthony’s second-in-comman
d. She didn’t want to believe it, not only because it made her heartbeat flutter with fear.
As Lieutenant Stills led away the horse, Anthony leaned closer to lean his forehead against hers. “Good thinking,” he whispered. “We should have a few moments alone.”
She hadn’t feigned weakness. Unfortunately, weak knees seemed to be a byproduct of both riding the horse for a prolonged period of time and finding herself this close to Anthony. Nevertheless, she didn’t confess as much, for fear that he didn’t feel the same about her. Once again, he hadn’t joined her in bed, even if she would have been far too exhausted to welcome his advances.
She tried to push her attraction to him out of her mind, as difficult as that sounded. They had a more important matter to discuss—one that might endanger their lives, if his suspicion was correct. She’d mulled it over for an hour or more while riding, and she couldn’t refute his claims. He was right; these mishaps occurred far too frequently to be mere coincidences.
“What do we do?” she whispered, mere inches away from his mouth.
He traced her cheek as he tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. With their belongings stolen, she hadn’t had her hairbrush to render her locks neat. They stubbornly escaped any attempts to tame them by braiding.
After he darted a glance toward the potential traitor, currently guiding the horses to drink from the stream, Anthony whispered, “I don’t know what we can do for the moment. He’s armed.”
Charlie fought the urge to roll her eyes. “As are you.” She pointedly lowered her gaze to his belt, where a pistol and dirk resided.
It didn’t look nearly as formidable as when he was clad in his full captain’s uniform, but his waistcoat and coat had been stolen by the thieves, along with the rest of their belongings. Perhaps it had been her stroke of good luck that she’d fallen asleep with her clothes on rather than only her nightgown. Only the articles left behind the screen—boots and belt—had been overlooked. Even her reticule had been snatched while they were asleep, and she contemplated how she could have been so drowsy as to sleep through that.
Captivating the Captain (Scandals and Spies Book 6) Page 12
