Page 45 of The Agent and the Outlaw
Charlotte.
I lifted my face from the mud and saw her standing in front of me, facing “Iron Fist” Jacques.
“None of your concern, little miss. Just a private disagreement between gentlemen,” he replied.
“Go back to the inn, Charlotte,” I spit through the blood and filth streaming down my face.
“I certainly will not,” she replied, never taking her eyes off Jacques. “Monsieur, my husband can be a complete and utter horse’s ass, but he ismyhorse’s ass. I must beg your pardon on his behalf. Might we not settle this dispute with a degree of civility? I wager you could use a warm meal and some fortifying spirits to start your day off on a better note. If you’ll escort me to the best establishment, we can all breakfast at my husband’s pleasure.”
Dieu,she could charm the fleas off a stray. How I hated her in that moment. Embarrassment and anger welled up inside me at the thought that she’d intervened—probably thinking she’d rescued me from a sound thrashing.One you likely deserve, you fool.
“I don’t need your help,” I growled at her. She ignored me, spiking my temper again.
Jacques frowned, flexing his meaty fists. The crowd, disappointed with the interruption, booed and jeered, goading Jacques and me back into violence. I was definitely ready. Jacques seemed less sure.
I finally stood, wiping my dirty, bloodied face on my sleeve. I clenched my fists, moments away from venting all of my anger, frustration, and irritation on Jacques’s ruddy face, but he raised his hands to the crowd and called for quiet. He nodded at Charlotte.
“Madame, I would be honored to breakfast with you. I reckon this town has seen enough bloodshed to last us a while anyway,” he rumbled, extending his arm to her. She beamed at him in a way that made me want to rip his limbs off and beat him with them.
“So, I gather,” she tutted sympathetically. “You must tell me all about it!” She took his arm, surreptitiously slipping her other hand in her skirts, where I heard a softclick. So, she’d had her pistol cocked and ready in her pockets.
Ready to defend me.
I stared after them in stupefied silence as they meandered down the road. The crowd dispersed, hurling a few insults at me as they did.
What the hell had just happened? I tried to take stock of the situation, but my head throbbed, and my mouth tasted of blood, and I found it hard to focus. Surely, the comtesse-agent I’d accidentally kidnapped, dragged to the south of France, endangered countless times from natural and supernatural threats, and might harbor some flame of begrudging affection for, hadn’t just saved meagain?
I’d never felt so useless—so much a fool. My father’s words rung true in my ears, as did Charlotte’s early criticisms.Always acting so rashly, too stupid to think things through, making a mess of everything and everyone. Antoine, the blundering imbecile languishing away as a mere lieutenant. Antoine, who could not save his nephew or his sister. Antoine, who could not save Charlotte, his…
His what? What was she to me?
Before I could think too much on it, I heard her calling my name. She and Jacques were standing in the middle of the street some distance away, waving me over. As black as my mood was, I could not resist her bidding. I grabbed my coat—the only garment I possessed not covered in mud—and stalked over.
Charlotte cocked a brow at my brooding expression but tried gamely to make introductions. Jacques stuck his hand out and I eyed it suspiciously.
“Your good lady wife has explained some of your troubles,” he said. His deep voice was like a wagon wheel over a rutted gravel road.
“Has she?” I was unable to keep the censure from my voice.
“It’s nothing to be ashamed of, darling,” Charlotte interjected. “The vampires who robbed us on the road were supernaturally strong and numerous. We were lucky to escape with our lives, despite your bravery.”
“Indeed,” I said, too exhausted to argue or keep up with her myriad stories—or should I say,lies.
“Jacques has forgiven your slights,” she continued. “And wishes to make amends, and then we can all put this wholememorableexperience behind us.”
She eyed me pointedly. Her meaning was clear—we’d attracted too much attention and she wanted me to shake hands with the man and then disappear, just another typical brawl with some ill-behaved traveler. I wasn’tat allan outlaw on the run from his father, a band of vampire soldiers, a possible werewolf, and the legal repercussions of murdering a marquis.
“I’m sorry for the, um…” Jacques gestured to my bleeding lip.
“Don’t trouble yourself over it,” I replied.
We were quiet for a moment, sizing each other up, until Charlotte rolled her eyes and cleared her throat.
“Well! That seems settled. Jacques, you were telling me there was a lovely spot up ahead where we could get some meat pies and perhaps a pot of coffee or tea. Not to worry,mon ami, I always carry a little nip of brandy with me—the perfect way to warm up a morning in November! Now, you also mentioned some of the recent troubles you’ve all been having with some kind of local beast—pray, tell me over our meal,” she trilled. “Your little town issolovely, I hate to think of something so ominous marring its serenity.”
Jacques smiled down at Charlotte. It seemed innocent enough, but it piqued my temper again and it took all I had to follow behind them without strangling them both. We stopped a short distance from the Wild Rose and went into a neighboring tavern.
“It’s only a tavern at night, madame,” Jacques said apologetically. “In the daytime, they serve tea when they can get it, and sometimes lemonade—perfectly respectable for ladies. I promise you the meat pies are the best you’ve ever had. My wife, Annette, is the best baker in Gévaudan. She runs the restaurant in the daytime, and I take over as publican in the evening. I’ll introduce you, Madame.”
