by Win Hollows
Losif tugged at the neck of his robes and swallowed. “Splendid.”
“No need to worry, Losif.” Elorie patted his knee. “I’ll rescue you should anything happen.”
Max sighed. This mission was a failure before it was even started. He should have just come alone. “Elorie, it will be your duty to make sure nothing untoward happens. You know the Hand’s methods, their points of surveillance, the signals they use. You’ll need to be aware every second to help us avoid detection at all costs. And use…” He looked at Losif and cleared his throat. “…countermeasures should we be compromised.”
Elorie smiled. “My pleasure, Lord Eydris.”
“And stop calling me Lord Eydris,” he snapped. “I’ve had my tongue in your mouth, for heaven’s sake.”
“Urgh!” Losif exclaimed.
“Max!” Elorie burst at the same time.
He grinned. “That’s better.”
Elorie scowled at him and hopped off the railing, storming off in the direction of the lower deck hatch. Her monkey hooted in excitement, bobbing up and down on her shoulder.
“Intermission, then?” Losif looked up at Max with a smile.
Max rolled his eyes and walked away. A very long journey indeed.
Chapter Nineteen
Time passes quickly when you don’t want it to, Elorie mused as she traded off with Losif at the driver’s seat atop their hired coach. Before she’d even become accustomed to riding the sparkling blue sea again, they had docked at the Port of Bordeaux early on the third of June, the gray sky barely brightening with wisps of color. They had left the sleek ship in port, its captain and crew waving to her as they disembarked.
She was going to miss that boat and the brief, bright time she had spent aboard it. At least they would be taking it back when it met them in St. Raphael several days hence. Max had wanted to leave France by water as soon as they had the Damarek, not risking taking the same route back to Bordeaux in case the Hand was on their trail.
It had been wonderful spending time with Max, even though they were constantly surrounded by others. Being on the same side as he changed everything and nothing. They were aligned in their purpose but retained their competitive natures. Her heart lifted with every interaction, as their bickering was no longer laced with the subtle disdain they had shown in the past. She knew Max still hated her for what he perceived as a betrayal of the country he loved, but they had come to a truce of sorts, silently pretending it wasn’t the reason she was on this mission with him. He played with her, teased, touched, and sent smoldering looks whenever no one was watching.
She realized this was what it could have been like if she had been able to choose The Earl of Eydris over Morley. It would have been everything she’d always wanted, and the ache for him grew larger with each passing day. It was difficult to shake the illusion of such a union, but she had pushed it aside the second they had docked in Bordeaux. She needed her wits about her if they were going to pass through several provinces of France without the Hand’s detection, for they had eyes everywhere.
Elorie had done the hiring of the coach, playing the part of a rich merchant’s wife on her way to Paris for a shopping excursion. It was a good thing she’d had a nice gown packed. When in doubt, plan to overdress, she had learned. Her flawless French and fluttering mannerisms had been convincing enough for the stagecoach inn to rent to a woman with no driver or chaperonage in sight. She was glad this was 1843, and times had changed somewhat, as a woman arranging travel alone was not near as much of an oddity as it was a few decades ago.
Once they had settled into the coach, Max had taken the first driving shift while she and Losif warmed themselves inside the well-appointed carriage. She had drawn a circuitous route on their map for Max to follow, one that avoided both township checkpoints and the two establishments she knew agents of the Hand frequented inside the city. It had been tense at first, and Elorie’s stomach was in knots until they were a good ways out of the Bordeaux area. After a few hours, they had stopped in a small village for Elorie to use the nearest chamber pot, and the horses to get a well-earned drink. Losif then took a turn driving, but Max and Elorie’s short-lived privacy inside the coach was interrupted when Elorie looked out the window to realize they were no longer on the correct road to their destination. After that, Losif had been relegated to passenger only while Elorie took the reins. She had given Porthos to the monk as she’d climbed up to the high cushioned seat, knowing her little companion would be more comfortable inside the coach being fed and adored.
The afternoon was balmy, and Elorie had to admit she was glad Max had taken the earlier turn. Between more populated areas and towns, she drove with her hood down and hair flying, the bold sun on her face as the lush French countryside flew by. She would take this over Almack’s any day. It reminded her of her childhood, and although it hadn’t been perfect, she had loved the time she’d spent in France. Though she knew it wasn’t true, everything felt greener, more alive with a carefree wildness that only the French knew how to embody. Perhaps she could convince the duke to let her visit her relatives here every now and then.
With her eyes on a large almond willow tree growing beside the road, she almost jumped out of her skin when Max’s form appeared on the outside of the carriage. Not bothering to pull their conveyance to the side, she watched as he effortlessly climbed around the side and eased himself onto the seat beside her, the carriage listing to one side with his weight. Elorie laughed at his antics, knowing he did it partly to impress her and partly because, well, he could. She knew the feeling of knowing your body and what it could do, and using it was a pleasure most of those with noble blood were not expected to engage in. They were expected to sit and drink tea, and stand and wave fans, and faint at the mention of bodily functions. Max was unique—like she was, though they had become that way for very different reasons.
“Couldn’t take any more of Losif’s conversation,” he explained with a rueful look.
As he sat down beside her, she turned to him and asked, “Why did you become an agent?”
Max looked surprised at the bent of her thoughts but then smirked. “To best my cousin.”
Elorie smiled. “The Marquess, Lord Blackbourne?”
“Yes, that cousin,” Max replied, reclining back on the seat. “We were like brothers as boys, and then things changed. We became rivals.”
Elorie had never had that kind of relationship with Celise. Perhaps they were too far apart in age. “What changed?”
Max’s eyes grew distant. “He did, although it wasn’t his fault. I began to envy him as he grew more popular and received all the attention at university, even when he acted like a complete buffoon. Anyway, I hated when people compared me to him, or worse, confused me with him.”
Elorie laughed. “You’re both quite handsome, so I don’t imagine that was a trial.”
“So I’m handsome, am I?” Max grinned, watching her profile.
Elorie snorted and kept her gaze facing forward. “Oh, for shame,” she said, flicking the reins. “It’s not as if you don’t know.”
He shrugged. “I like it when you say it though.”
She raised a brow and looked sideways at him, meeting his melted honey eyes. “Don’t get used to it.”
Laughing, he put a foot up against the wooden barrier and crossed his arms. “You know the irony is, I stupidly chose to do something that I could never tell anyone about, least of all him.”
“Do you regret it then?” she asked. “Mayhap you would have been happier taking up horse racing or something showier.” She chuckled.
“Oh, he was good at that too,” Max said wryly. “But no, I don’t regret it at all. It made me into someone I’m proud to be now. It stopped being about Asher a long time ago, and I wouldn’t trade the things I’ve seen and done for all the attention in the world.”
Elorie nodded, and it was as if his soul had just reached out and caressed hers, saying things she’d always known to be true about herself
as well. With Max, it was never just about physical attraction. It was something deep within that called to her when he was near, and she just knew he would understand anything at all she said or did. Like an answering light being lit in the dark, his every word caused her to glow in response to his unexpected flames. “I know exactly what you mean,” she said softly.
Max blew out through his nostrils. “I know you do. Which is why I can’t figure out why you’re going to marry an old man and rust away for the rest of your life. I know you don’t want that.”
Elorie sighed. She knew he wouldn’t let it drop, so she might as well tell him. It wouldn’t change anything. “When I was fifteen years old, I signed a betrothal contract to marry him when I reached the age of nineteen.”
Max narrowed his eyes. “Why would you do that? Why would your family condone you marrying someone old enough to be your father? You would have conquered the marriage mart in a single day if you’d debuted with all the other girls.”
Elorie smiled, liking his assessment. Then she took a deep breath. “My family needed money. He agreed to support us all, before and after the marriage, as long as I held up my end of the bargain.”
He scoffed. “So marry me. I can support you and your family for a thousand years.”
Elorie’s breath caught. It wasn’t the first time he’d said such a thing, but it robbed her of breath every time, it was so tempting a thought.
But there was a catch not even she could find a way out of so far. “If I don’t marry him on my nineteenth birthday, my family has to pay back everything he has already given us ten times over. Believe me, if I could renege now, I would. But I can’t do that to my sister. She would be ruined.”
She watched Max’s jaw grind. “How much money are we talking about?”
Elorie laughed. “You can’t buy me, Max.”
“How much?” he said on a growl.
Elorie pursed her lips. “According to my father’s ledgers, we’ve borrowed somewhere around forty thousand pounds, as of last month. So t’would be four hundred thousand pounds to repay. More than the Queen herself has, I daresay.”
Max remained silent, and she was afraid to look at his thunderous expression. They both stayed quiet for the next few minutes, letting the horses provide the sound between them with the steady clopping of their hooves. Her revelations had been a blow to him, she could tell. It was painful to know that he now knew her burden and seemed to have enveloped it into himself. If misery loved company, she supposed she should rejoice that they both felt the keen pressure of her unavoidable future. But she hadn’t wanted him to ever know any of it. It was humiliating for him to know that, to her family and society in general, she was nothing more than cattle to be bartered. Even more humiliating was that she couldn’t do anything to control it, and now he would see her as a helpless female who wasn’t smart enough to change her own fate. How disappointed he must feel that his respected rival was nothing more than a fraud who would soon succumb to the same dull life every other lady of their circle was so happy to live.
The carriage crested a small hill, and before them lay a valley with stone cottages and manors dotting the vibrant fruit vineyards like pearl stickpins nestled in a woman’s hair. It was a familiar sight to Elorie, one that evoked the pleasantness of a simpler time in her life. Grape vineyards on either side of them contained rows and rows of trees heavily laden with green and purple fruit. She remembered picking grapes straight from the vine as a child on her aunt and uncle’s estate, and there was nothing else like guiltily gorging on the sweet berries in the warm sun when she’d managed the sneak away from her nursemaid.
A mail coach passed by them going in the opposite direction, and they both nodded to the old driver. In the distance, she could see what she knew must be the town of La Réole along the Garonne River, a small village she hadn’t had occasion to visit before now. She doubted the Hand had any significant presence in such a place and had never heard of anyone being assigned there. It would be a good place to stop for the night, have a hot meal, and stay in a local inn under false names. No one there would recognize her or the earl if they kept their heads down.
Nevertheless, she would make use of the deep-brown wig and cosmetics she had brought with her. She had always kept them in her emergency valise ever since her mission to Rome, so she might as well use them, as it was better to be safe than sorry. Such a precaution might not be necessary, but she had learned that fate had a way of ambushing you with the very things you didn’t think to be possible if you were careless.
It would still be two or three hours until they reached the village, and she was glad of the time to let her guard down just a bit. That was another thing she liked about Max. When she was near him, she never feared he didn’t know exactly what was going on around them. He was like eyes in the back of her head, and his instincts and powers of observation were every bit as good as hers. They made a good team, she realized. If only they had not been destined for such different paths, she had no doubt they would have achieved great things together.
Like finding the Lance.
“What will England do with the Lance once they have it?” Elorie asked Max.
Max looked at her, as if deciding whether or not to trust her with this line of conversation. “It will serve the purpose of bribery,” he finally said.
“How noble,” she quipped dryly. “And you think France the duplicitous one?”
“I think France the selfish one. England means to bribe someone as a means of avoiding conflict.”
“Hmm. How do you know France doesn’t desire it for equally good reasons?”
He laughed. “Because France is the reason for this mess to begin with.”
Elorie frowned. “What are you talking about?”
Max sighed. “Nothing. Hopefully, it won’t matter for much longer.”
“What if France were to use it for its healing properties? You have heard the legends, non?”
“I’ve heard them, yes. But I don’t particularly think France’s monarchs should live any longer than they were meant to.”
Elorie growled. “Why do you say things like that? What has France ever done to you? Our countries are at peace.”
“And yet, here you are, wishing you could slit this Englishman’s throat the first chance you get.” He chuckled.
“You mean the Englishman who is blackmailing and abducting me?”
He inclined his head. “Fair enough.”
She sighed. “I don’t want to kill you. I never did.”
“I know,” he said, smiling.
Elorie narrowed her eyes. “I thought about it though. And I could have, many times.”
“I know that too. But you didn’t.”
She almost hated the way his hair fell over his brow at that rakish angle. He was so sure of himself, she wanted to push him off the carriage. But he was also right. And for that, she wanted to run him over with it. “Your rash tongue will get you in trouble someday, Lord Eydris. I certainly hope it’s not while I’m armed.”
At this, Max laughed. “I know you’re armed, Viper. I would never make the mistake of tempting you to use your legendary skills on me.”
“I almost skewered you in Scotland in the Records Library,” she reminded him.
“You weren’t even trying.” He rolled his eyes.
Elorie smiled. Perhaps he did know her too well. “True.”
“Now in Rome, I think you were trying,” he mused, sneaking a look at her.
“Oh, I didn’t try.” She smirked. “I succeeded. I used a sedative dart on you while you were sleeping so you were late for your meeting with the Cardinal. I showed up instead.”
Max’s mouth fell open. “You what?” He blinked several times. “That’s not possible.”
“It is. I went back for the dart afterward so there was no trace. Your sleep with your mouth open. I thought it quite amusing.” This was fun. In fact, she’d had fantasies of telling Max about that particular victory.
Max sat back against the backrest and ran a hand through his hair. “Bloody hell. That’s why I was so groggy the entire day. I couldn’t fathom having overslept. I kicked myself for years over that.”
Elorie laughed and looked over at him slyly. “Do you want me to apologize?”
She watched as a smile worked its way over his features. “Never.”
Elorie turned away, smothering a grin. When he looked at her like that, she couldn’t think of a single reason why she shouldn’t run away with him.
“Speaking of sleeping.” Max perked up. “Will we be occupying a single room at the inn? I have no qualms about playing husband and wife.”
Elorie fought the surge of desire that accompanied the image he painted. The both of them, in a room, with one bed… “That won’t be necessary. I’ll check in—”
The sound of hooves approaching rapidly behind them caused Elorie to turn. A pair of riders was approaching fast, kicking up dust in their wake. She knew they were most likely just farm boys out for a race or messengers with a deadline, but their urgency and closing proximity still caused her heart to speed up just a little. Her middle finger automatically dipped to her wrist to reassure herself of the dart she had placed in her slim, in-sewn pocket this morning.
It wasn’t one of the ones Max had given her. Those, she had carefully hidden in her room back in London. The darts she always carried on her were specially made needle-tipped ones with chambers for whatever liquid the victim was to ingest. She kept three loaded with a heavy tranquilizer and three with cyanide at all times, in addition to a small blade strapped to her thigh. She didn’t like having to use the blade as that meant the assailant was close enough to touch, but the situation sometimes required it.
The two figures and their ball of dust galloped closer. Max put a hand on her thigh as he turned to watch them as well. The lines of his body had changed subtly. To the casual observer, he was still very much at ease sitting on the cushioned driver’s seat beside her, but Elorie could feel the tension in his hand and see it in the indent between his brows. Though neither had spoken a word, Elorie knew they were both ready to react at any moment.
