Taking a step back, she turned to Peter, who had heard his name in the whispered French. He held his hand out to help her.
“Front or back?” he asked, and the words confused her. She cocked her head, trying to focus on the task at hand and not the tears that suddenly burned in her eyes. He saw the confusion and moved his hand to point. “Front of the saddle or the back?”
“Oh, uh…here,” she said, indicating that it was easier for her to be at the front. Without hesitation, his strong arms hoisted her up first, and then swung up behind her. He was heavy and she felt the horse buckle slightly at their combined weight. “What is…the name?” she asked him, trying to act normal.
“My horse’s name?” he grinned. “Apple.”
“Apple?” she shaped the word on her tongue.
Beside them, Ricardo swung up onto his horse, a grin on his face. “Pomme,” he translated, meeting her eyes, and she grinned, looking back at Peter.
“This is an…interesting name for a horse. Why?”
“Because that’s what he likes to eat,” Peter replied, and she glanced at Ricardo, who mimed eating an apple. The headache that came with unshed tears left her and she laughed, in her own world with the two of them.
It left Alexander time to compose himself, making sure that they hadn’t forgotten anything. He pushed his horse forward and they started their journey out of the courtyard. It would be a long ride and there was no need to push the horses more than they would already be pushed. They would have to share Nora’s weight between the three of them, overtaxing the horses more than usual.
Since he was separated from Mary, the only touch human touch he had endured came in two forms. The first was physical contact from combat, which really didn’t count. That was brief, rough and often resulted in completely different memories. The second was from Ricardo, who had a bad habit of reaching out to grab his shoulder when he wanted attention or was trying to convey an idea of the upmost importance. He was about the only person who could do it without being smacked in the face. Anything else reminded him too much of the one person he had wanted to be physically connected to for the rest of his life.
They chose to follow the river out of the city, and set a leisurely pace that would take them to the first of many country roads that would lead to the south. Alexander was locked inside his own head, but the other three carried on a conversation as their horses kept up a slow but steady pace.
“I saw a three headed dragon last night,” Ricardo said, first in English and then in French, causing both their heads to turn.
“Where?” Nora’s eyes lit up. She knew that it wasn’t as it sounded, so she was curious as to his reference.
“At the Lady Suffolk’s house,” he replied. “She’s paid some sculpture millions to make one in her front yard. She is an odd one.”
“This is your…” Nora struggled for the English word so Peter could be included in the conversation. “Mistress?”
“No,” Ricardo shrugged. “Not really.”
“You have one?” she asked him, and he smirked.
“One mistress? No.”
Peter raised an eyebrow at him from behind Nora, grinning. What was lost in translation was that Ricardo didn’t have one mistress; he had several, all at once. Nevertheless, what Nora seemed to understand was that he was single, which made her blush. She looked down at the ground, watching the flowers go by, and for the next half hour, requested translation for the names of them. She seemed quite content to not say another word to Alexander for the rest of the day. If he wanted to be grumpy, that was fine, for the other two were quite friendly.
Eventfully, the pounding in his head subsided, although it probably had to do with the fact that his water skin was laced with rum. As the sun began to set over the hills, he spoke the first words he had said for three hours. “We should stop up ahead for the night,” he said, pointing to a nearby clearing. This made Nora pay attention.
“That is not an inn,” she said.
“No,” Alexander said, stopping his horse and dismounting. “It is not, Marchioness.”
She paused, wondering if she had misunderstood. However, there was no joking expression on his face and the other two slowed their horses to a halt as well.
“First no carriage, now no inn,” she muttered in French as Peter swung off the horse and then lifted his monstrous arms to help her down.
“Huh?” he asked and she shook her head.
“Nothing,” she replied, not willing to attempt to translate. It wasn’t like there was an inn within riding distance that she could insist they stop at instead. She wasn’t even sure whether there was any sort of civilization within riding distance should they need assistance. She had lost track of where they were, even what direction they were headed.
“The forest is much more tranquil than any inn, milady.” Ricardo smiled at her. “Why be locked up in a stuffy inn when you can be out here with the beauty of nature? Sleeping on the bed of the Earth Queen, listening to the lullaby of the forest?”
She smiled at him, for his smile was infectious and wonderful. He had such a way with words, such a beautiful aura about him. He could probably make a haystack sound appealing, if he wanted to. “You prefer this?” she asked, and he nodded.
“Of course.”
“But it will be cold,” she replied and he winked at her.
“You won’t be cold, milady,” he said.
On some level, she knew he meant that they would build a roaring fire, that their blankets were warm. However, there was something about the way he said it that sent chills down her spine and made her cheeks blush with color. No man had ever looked at her that way, given her such attention and such a warm voice. He spoke as if the dying twilight made her appealing, like his very smile would be the first of many things to keep her warm.
“Nora,” Alexander snapped his fingers at her as if she was ten again. If it was anyone else doing that, she would be insulted. However, he wasn’t just her guard, he was a Marques, and as a man, he technically outranked her. She turned, not amused all the same at his beckoning of her like a dog. “Come here and help me unpack.”
“So now you’re talking to me?” she muttered in low French as she went to help lay things out from the full saddlebags.
He shot her a look, and it wasn’t entirely unkind. “Don’t take it personally,” he replied. “I’m a grumpy old man toward everyone in the morning.”
“You didn’t used to be,” she answered, remembering days when he would take her walking in the gardens long before anyone else in the household was awake. Mary liked to sleep in, so when Nora was dumped on their doorstep by her forever traveling parents, he was the one often awake and willing to entertain her. Her other option had been to be raised by maids or servants. The first time Mary had met her at a party, a child of three about to be put to bed, she had taken a liking to her. Therefore, it was decided that their manor would be her second home. It was good for noble children to be raised away from their parents, so everyone said.
He could have had servants do it, but servants used to make him uncomfortable. His household was minimally run, a staff of twenty to her sixty on a good day.
“I didn’t used to be a lot of things,” he met her eye as he pulled out a brown glass bottle, no doubt filled with the strongest spirits known to man. This made her roll her eyes, turning to help the others unpack instead. If he wanted to sink into a bottle instead of talking, then she could find much more pleasurable conversation elsewhere.
5
CHAPTER FIVE
Nora was curled up by the fire, fast asleep, with a guard’s coat under her head, when she first heard it. The noises of the forest were unfamiliar to her, so she jumped at every little thing. When she heard the crackling of a branch, it caused her to sit up, nearly pitching herself into the fire. Her little shriek meant Ricardo, who had somehow maneuvered close to her, was awake in an instant.
“What?” he asked, his brain alert even when it came straight fro
m sleep.
Nora squinted into the darkness of the forest, trying to figure out what had woke her. There was nothing but the shape of trees and the branch that she had heard crack wasn’t repeating itself.
“I…” she said, and Ricardo cocked his head to listen. She was sure that he was going to tell her she was being silly, that there was nothing in the forest but her own imagination. However, he stayed unmoving for more than a minute, and she was relieved that he was at least taking her fears seriously.
Just as he turned to reassure her, a branch cracked twice. “Alexander!” he hissed, instantly grabbing Nora around the waist and pulling her up before she even knew what was happening. They moved so fast that her head spun, and before she knew it, the fire was doused and they were on horseback, pounding through the forest at breakneck speed. She had her arms wrapped around Ricardo’s slim waist, her head buried in his back, which was racked with lean muscle. If her heart wasn’t pounding a million miles a minute, she might have even enjoyed his musky masculine scent.
They slowed their horses when they came to the edge of the forest, turning around slowly to face the threat.
“How many?” Alexander asked, his hand on his sword. In the early dawn light, his chest was heaving and shiny with sweat. However, his eyes were trained on the exit of the forest.
“Five, maybe six, that I could hear,” Ricardo replied. “But their steps were heavy, so I suspect they are armed.”
“Draw weapons,” Alexander said and Nora squeaked as they all drew loaded guns from their sides.
“What’s happening?” she asked, and Ricardo patted her hand around his waist.
“A little skirmish,” he replied. “Nothing to worry about.”
“After me?” she asked.
“Likely,” he replied cheerfully, as if they were talking about lunch. “Don’t worry. Five or six, coming at us from a forest, out in the open, it’s no problem.”
“That’s your opinion,” she said, hiding her head behind his lean back again. Attacks on her life were not uncommon, but it didn’t mean they got less frightening. She felt like she was going to throw up as they waited for whatever it was to come out of the forest and approach them.
The mysterious party fired the first shot, and Ricardo leaned forward. He squinted into the darkness and fired back.
Something fell against a tree and then the charge of men came.
He was right; there were five of them, or six, given the fallen one. They wore no uniform, firing at the guards. Nora cried out in fear, squeezing Ricardo’s waist so tightly that he felt air leave him. Nevertheless, he made no move to adjust her grip. Instead, he adjusted his breathing and fired again, the reverberation shaking through his arm.
In seconds flat, with the guards’ accurate aim, they were all dead. Nora didn’t want to look at the dead bodies of the men she knew nothing about, but Ricardo urged his horse closer.
“What do you think?” he asked Alexander, who was regarding them as he would a dead fish.
Peter, having no qualms over dead bodies, leaped off his horse and went to investigate. Rummaging in their jackets and pockets, he eventually came up with a note, which he unfolded. It was wet with blood and Nora looked away, still trembling. Ricardo put a comforting hand over hers, his thumb gently rubbing the front of her hand as she leaned her ear against his back. His breath was coming sharply as he tried to get over the adrenaline rush.
“It’s a note,” Peter said at last. “Guaranteeing the sum of twenty pounds from any money lender in London for…” he paused, wincing. “For the body of the Marchioness du Anders.”
“From who?” Alexander’s tone was sharp, fully alert even though he had been dead asleep not a few minutes ago.
“Bishop Alderman,” Nora said, knowing before Peter even read it.
Alexander’s eyes shot up to her. Bishop Alderman was the most powerful of the bishops. He had been an old man when Alexander last saw him, and now he must be older still.
“There is a red bird drawn in place of a name, yes? This is his mark.” She said it almost sadly.
“Why does the bishop want you dead?” Alexander asked, his French rapid but sounding better than it had before and Nora sighed.
“My father signed a deal with him to prevent the lands from reaching my cousins. Upon his death, all the lands would revert to the church if he had no direct heir. This was when he was married to his second wife, who was barren, before my mother. He didn’t expect to marry again, and he didn’t expect…me.”
“Am I right to think,” Ricardo said. “That this is one of the tamer plots to end your life?”
“Yes,” Nora replied, her grip still tight on his waist. “He’s sent men like this before. To go up against the church is to go up against God, and not even I could achieve such a thing. I can do nothing but evade his…messages.”
“Well, these men won’t be bringing you a message again,” Alexander replied, still on top of his horse. “Strip them, Peter, of anything valuable or identifiable, and then we shall be on our way. It’s a hard ride to another safe spot.”
Nora’s arms trembled and she let out a tiny cry that reminded Ricardo of a frightened kitten. He twisted around, as much as he could, to look at her. “Hey, hey,” he said, at the sight of her tears. “It’s alright. You’re safe with us.”
“I haven’t been safe since my father died,” Nora replied. “And I think, perhaps, for a good time before that. I just…” Her breath was coming fast now, the fear of the moment catching up to her. He squeezed her hand, and leaned his head back so their hair mingled together.
“You are safe,” he promised her. “We are the King’s Guard, and we are the best in this business. These men never stood a chance. You have never been guarded by us before, milady, so you do not know the extent of our skills. I will let no harm come to you.”
It was his choice of wording, singular rather than plural, that made her meet his eyes. Their faces were so close that his long lashes brushed her cheek and she only needed to pucker her lips to brush against his. He had a calming presence about him that indicated strength well beyond what she could manage. Slowly, she nodded, trusting him, and he smiled.
“Did anyone ever tell you,” he said in a low voice. “That your eyes sparkle like rainbows?”
“No,” her smile grew wider and the tension left her shoulders. “You are very kind, sir.”
“I only speak the truth,” he replied. “I would never tell Alexander his eyes sparkled like rainbows.”
“Hey,” Alexander finally turned his head toward the two of them with a grunt. “If you are distracted, Ricardo, I can pick up a mercenary in the next town to take your place.”
“One who puts up with you?” Ricardo grinned. “I doubt it.”
Alexander only rolled his eyes, and Nora chose not to look at him. She knew that he would not be happy with her behavior, but then, he’d lost the right to say anything about when he left and didn’t return.
“I’m hungry,” Peter said, as if he hadn’t just stripped dead bodies of their gold and valuables and tucked them into his saddlebag. Nora winced, thinking she’d have to boil the dress that was in there, half sticking out. “Can we eat?”
“Is that town up ahead?” Ricardo cocked his head in memory. “About three hours’ ride, the one with the bacon that tastes like chicken?”
Nora looked up, wondering what she had just heard. The three of them spoke in English so fast, it often lost her.
“We can stop there,” Alexander agreed. “If anyone else is following us, we’ll know by then.”
“A town?” Nora said as the horses started moving again.
“A lovely little town that seems sprung out of nothing,” Ricardo replied. “Just for a meal before we continue. Do you like to read, milady?”
“Yes,” she answered as the horses were spurred into a faster pace. “Perhaps far more than I should.”
“There is a bookstore I could show you,” he said. “The horses are pretty weighe
d down, but a book or two will do them no harm. My treat.”
Nora had riches beyond the three of them combined, and he knew that. It wasn’t because she couldn’t afford it that he was offering. It was because he wanted to buy it for her, a little present to make up for the horrors of the road. It made the day seem a little brighter, the sun a little warmer, as they trotted along. She kept her grip tight on his waist the whole time, and he said nothing of it, even reaching down to touch her hand now and again. He spoke easily to the other two, but didn’t leave her out of the conversation, switching fluently between French and English with impressive speed.
“How many languages do you speak?” she asked and he answered as if it were nothing.
“Four,” he said. “English, French, Spanish and Italian fluently. Five if a German man is drunk, when I can usually muddle my way through a sentence.”
“Five!” she cried in astonishment. “You must be very smart indeed, then.”
“It is mandatory, when you travel a lot, to be able to make yourself fit in with the locals,” he shrugged, as if his accomplishment was nothing. “But some men, Marchioness, they gain entrance to the guard because they have a head for leadership, like Alexander, or a body for brute strength, like Peter. I had neither of those things, so I had to find my strength elsewhere.”
“Languages?” she inquired and he lifted one lean shoulder in response as the horse trotted along.
“Languages or ciphers, normally. That’s why the three of us make such a good team. We are all very different.”
“How long have you been a guard?”
“Officially, six years,” he replied. “But one is also in training for a year, so seven in total.”
“Seven!” she gasped. “You’re so young for having been a guard for seven years.”
Revealing A Marchioness's Heart (The Chronicles of Loyalty) Page 11
