Page 89 of The Bastard's Iberian Bride
Goats in the herd. How many? If they were afoot they couldn’t catch up with them, could they?
She frowned out of the window. What would Agruen’s men do?
They wouldn’t really travel afoot. They’d pretend, they’d walk a short way with the group. They’d have horses tucked nearby.
“I’ll give you this back, miss.” Jenny held out the knife to her.
She shook her head. “Best keep it handy, Jenny. We’ve given away all our food. We may still have need of it.”
When they came to a rough patch of road the coach slowed. She stuck her head out the window and called “Mr. Gibson.”
His head went up, and he let the coach roll until he was next to her.
“Are you angry with me then?” he asked, looking grim.
“I’m being polite in front of the servants. I wish to speak with you.”
She craned her neck to look up at him. His gaze was cast down the road ahead, not backward, as it should be.
“Is it possible we will be followed?”
“Yes. But we’ve dealt with it.”
“How?”
“Kincaid’s two Scotsmen are straying behind us. Do not worry.”
She let out a breath. Perhaps it was well they had four extra men. Perhaps her husband could get her to London safely without requiring the poke of her knife into someone’s eye. As exciting as the prospect might be, she didn’t want to have to try it.
“Now tuck yourself back inside, love. There’s a fast stretch ahead and we’ll make a quick change very soon.” He stepped up his pace and moved out of her range of vision.
She plopped against the squab.Tuck herself back inside?Like she was a thick bit of Stroud cloth folded up and stored in the coach for cold nights?
The spike of irritation turned into a sick feeling that grew and lodged near her heart. The pleasure they’d shared, the wonder of being held by him, the comfort of being protected, it all came at a price. One she wasn’t sure she was willing to pay. She wouldn’t last twenty years being confined to the country without even a Jock to break up the boredom. She wouldn’t last another twenty minutes.
What would Mama have done?
Mama had most assuredly let herself be tucked away in the country, but she’d had a child to look after.
And she’d gone off a few times on business, even before they’d received news of Papa’s death. Only a few, and in retrospect, for only a few days, though to the young child Paulette, it had seemed like forever each time. Mama’d had that small bit of freedom, to come and go.
Mama wouldn’t have lasted being tucked away with no hope of escape. And neither would Paulette.
Bink glancedat the level of the sun and felt hopeful. At this pace they would reach Greencastle before full darkness settled. Bringing Paulette to safety was all he could think about.
Well, almost all. His bride had been stonily polite at the last two stops. She was tired. He was dead in his saddle himself, and quite willing to match tempers with anyone, even Paulette, in lieu of taking on the unseen threats stalking their group.
Perhaps he’d especially like to take on Paulette. An uproar was brewing with her. As soon as they got through their dinner at Greencastle and the bedroom door closed, she’d be demanding he take her to London. And his answer would mean he’d sleep in his own chamber.
Damn it, better that than endanger her for some foolish whimsy. Her father had been a spy for Shaldon. Perhaps her mother had spied at one time, but she’d made the sensible choice to stay in the country taking care of her child instead of running all over Europe with her.
The appearance of two men on the road yanked him completely into the present. In the distance, two gentlemen sat astride two horses.
He signaled his riders and scanned the terrain on both sides. The hedgerows here could conceal an ambush.
One of the riders raised his arm and both spurred their mounts forward.
“Hold up,” Bink shouted, and rode forward to meet them, another set of hooves on his heels.
