Andrea Pickens - [Lessons in Love 03] (24 page)

Octavia regarded the wrinkled piece of paper. "We were there?" She pointed to a spot.

He nodded.

"And now we are here?" Her gesture indicated a wide, empty patch between the inked lines.

"Yes."

"Well, that should mean that it will take some time for our pursuers to make their way around to where we intend to come out."

His voice had a hard edge to it. "Yes—assuming they go by the road."

Octavia hung the battered kettle, still half full with water, over the coals. "I had better rouse the children."

That proved no easy task. Both of them were loath to leave what little warmth their blankets provided, and a bit of petulant whining reached Alex's ear. Emma, it appeared, was in a testy mood.

"I'm hungry, Miss Hadley," she complained. "And cold. And I want to sleep in a bed, not this pile of dirt and leaves."

"None of us are terribly comfortable, Emma, but we must make the best of it." Alex watched with some admiration as Octavia managed to coax the girl out of her cocoon with a few more encouraging words. "Now please help Nicholas gather some wood for the fire while I make some tea."

Emma's lower lip thrust out but she rose to her feet and stumbled off after the boy without further complaint.

"Well done," he murmured when Octavia returned to begin fixing their last bit of gruel. "You have a deft touch with... difficult people."

She ducked her head to hide her smile. "Indeed, I find that all it takes is—"

Her reply was cut short by a loud cry. Both Alex and Octavia jumped to their feet, but he was first to sprint through the tangle of thorns and dead branches to reach the prostate child. Emma had lost her balance atop a fallen tree and tumbled to the ground below. There was a tear in her coat where a broken branch had snagged the material and her face had several nasty scratches across her left cheek, now thoroughly awash in a stream of tears.

"I want to go home," she sobbed. "I want—"

Alex knelt down and gathered her in his arms. "Of course you do, sweeting, and that is where I mean to take you." Her head burrowed deeper against his shoulder, and he was amazed at the surge of protectiveness that coursed through him as the child's arms came around his neck. He, who had thought precious little of anything but his own amusements for more time than he cared to remember, was suddenly aware that he would commit murder with his bare hands if any man dared lay a finger on Emma, or the others.

His hand stroked her quivering shoulders. "Look at me, Emma," he urged softly.

The tearstained face slowly rose a fraction.

"Now, I thought you said you wanted the heroes to cry, not the heroines."

She tried to stop sobbing. "I—I'm frightened, Mr. Sheffield."

"I may not be as chivalrous as Valancourt," he continued in a low voice, "but I promise you that no harm will come to you."

"You are ever so much better than that nodcock, Mr. Sheffield," she said through her snuffling. "You are the nicest hero I can ever imagine."

"Why don't you call me Alex? It seems we have become a family of sorts, at least for a time, so we might dispense with the formalities."

A tentative smile came to her face. "Oh, I should like that very much—Alex."

The sound of snapping branches caused all of them to start. "Is Emma all right?" cried Nicholas, sliding to a halt with a stout length of wood clutched in his hand.

"She is just fine," answered Alex. "Are you recovered enough to go back?" he asked of her.

Emma brushed away her tears and nodded.

"That's my brave girl." He pressed a light kiss on her cheek.

Her mouth dropped in confused wonder, then she began to giggle. "You are all prickly, Alex."

He ran a hand over his dark stubble. "Yes, well, my valet must have overslept this morning. I shall have to speak to him about such a regrettable lapse."

She giggled even louder.

"I should be happy to take her now," offered Octavia, who had come up close behind them.

Alex turned to find her regarding him with an expression that caused his stomach to give a little lurch. "I don't mind," he replied rather shakily. "I shall take her back to the camp."

The look of gratitude she gave him sent another sort of emotion coursing through him. Damnation, he thought. It was getting cursed difficult to ignore the growing attraction he was feeling. But he must. There were too many other things to concern him at the moment than the state of his heart.

Like the state of their necks.

They hurried through the simple meal and began to ready their things for the journey. As Emma lugged her small bag out of the shelter and handed it over to Alex, a heavy item fell to the ground. Her face took on a guilty look. "I... I know you said we must only bring essentials, but—"

He gave her a surreptitious wink and slipped it back in with her other belongings. "But of course
The Mysteries of Udolpho
are essential for this trip. I, for one, could not forgo seeing who overcomes the greatest of perils—us or them."

* * *

Octavia chose to walk rather than ride the plodding mount. Though the brambles and underbrush made progress difficult, it was better than being bounced like a sack of grain by the animal's uneven gait. The sky had become even darker, forcing her to keep an eye glued on the horse ahead to keep from getting lost. Alex, too, had opted to go on foot, though his arm remained curled around Emma's waist to steady her seat. The girl seemed quite recovered from her mishap. From what snatches of conversation drifted back to her, it appeared that Emma was deep into explaining the latest threat from the dastardly Montoni.

That Alex tolerated such childish chatter without complaint caused her lips to quirk upward. He was providing no end of surprises. To think that only a few days ago she had thought him a rather shallow rake. A charming one to be sure, but not a man given to much of any thoughts save his own desires. How wrong she had been! Beneath the devil-may-care manner, he was not nearly as hardened as he wished the world to think. Last night he had shown himself capable of pain, of remorse and, perhaps most touching of all, of a fear of being alone in the world. In that, she mused, he was not so very different than Emma—or herself.

And just now, he had revealed a gentle, compassionate side of his character. She would not have guessed he would be so good with children, but the flash in his eyes as Emma had wound her thin arms around his neck had been unfeigned. Why, she had almost felt jealous of the child! If a man had looked at her in such a manner, she would have found her insides melting into mush. Perhaps it was best that such a thing was nigh on impossible. Even if she hadn't warned him off in no uncertain terms, his mild flirtations were merely that—a game than men and women played, one in which both knew the rules, as well as the boundaries.

So why did her mind keep straying beyond those confines?

That he was devilishly attractive was undeniable. But it was more than his broad shoulders and chiseled features that had her emotions in a state of turmoil. Rather, it was the unexpected sensitivity, which along with a keen intelligence and quick wit had her... well, had her gushing like some flighty chit in a horrid novel. Her gaze couldn't help but linger on the tall figure up ahead. Even cloaked in the heavy coat and shaggy fur hat, he exuded a rampant strength and masculinity that caused her pulse to quicken.

Good Lord, she chided herself, she was in danger of waxing even more sentimental than the worst of that sort of prose. Her cheeks tinged with color at the absurdity of entertaining such improper thoughts. Forcing a deep breath, she vowed to put them aside and concentrate on the problems at hand. It was well she did, for a hidden outcropping of rock nearly sent her sprawling.

Alex whipped around at the sound of her stumble, his expression of concern softening into a smile of encouragement on seeing she was still on her feet. In fact, she thought she detected a wink before he turned back to guiding the tired horse through yet another thicket of densely knit boughs.

Despite her resolve, she couldn't quite help wondering what it was he saw when he looked at her. An aging governess with the pinched features of a disapproving harridan? No, it was a tiger that he had compared her with. The thought of it made her feel rather low. Was she really all roar and sharp claws? For once in her life she found herself wishing she were somehow more like a kitten—softer, cuddlier, sweeter. In other words, all the things she abhorred in those of her sex. She might judge such qualities ridiculous, but men seemed to find them... irresistible.

It would be nice to be found irresistible—

A loud crack, like the snapping of a branch, jarred her back to her senses. She looked up, just in time to feel the whoosh of air on her cheek as a bullet whistled by not a foot from her head. Alex screamed a warning to get down as he grabbed Emma from atop her mount and thrust her into the cover of some underbrush. Heedless of her own safety, Octavia reached for Nicholas and jerked him from the makeshift saddle. Another shot rang out, causing the boy to cry out in terror.

The gnarled roots of an old Sitka spruce offered some small measure of protection. She dragged him down behind their shelter, pausing a moment to catch her breath. There was no sound, save for the pounding of her heart, but she had no allusions that the danger was past. She eyed their old horse, who was still standing where she had left him, flanks quivering, too tired to bolt. Her reticule! she thought. She needed her reticule! Inside it was the pistol, their only chance at fighting back.

"For God's sake, Octavia, stay where you are," cried Alex as she slithered away from the spruce and scrambled to her feet.

A dark shape exploded from shadows, coming straight for her. Even in the faint light, she caught the glint of steel as the raised pistol of the rider arced up to take dead aim.

"Damnation!" came the muffled shout. A smaller shape was moving with even greater speed toward her. Alex caught the shaggy stallion by its bridle and yanked its head to one side.

The spooked animal tried to rear, throwing the man in the saddle off balance. Another curse, this one in Russian, pierced the air. Their assailant tried to spur forward, but Alex hung on and lunged for the man's hand. The shot aimed at Octavia went just wide. With a roar of anger, the man twisted and lashed out a vicious blow at Alex's head with the butt of his pistol.

He ducked and with a hard flick of his wrist sent the weapon flying in the air. At the same time, he grabbed hold of the other man's sleeve and started to drag him off his mount. A flailing boot caught him square in the midriff, knocking him to his knees. Still, his grip never loosened and the two of them ended up locked in a furious struggle amid a churning of snow and pine needles.

A second rider appeared among the trees. Octavia managed to shout a warning before she had to duck for cover. She saw, however, that Alex had gained the upper hand in his battle. In a flash, his fist drew back and landed a hard shot to the other man's jaw. The fellow's head snapped back and he fell backward, unconscious. Then, mindful of the new danger, Alex rolled quickly to his right, just as the impact of a bullet sent a spray of frozen dirt into the air.

The new assailant, recognizable as the leader of the band by his distinctive drooping mustache, brought his skittish mount under control in the tight space and maneuvered with practiced skill for a better angle of attack on the unarmed Alex.

Octavia spotted something jutting out from the fallen man's waistband. "Alex! In his belt! A second pistol!"

Alex dodged to one side, then flung himself at the prostrate body. In one motion he drew the weapon, rolled, and squeezed off a shot.

The leader's horse, suddenly riderless, whinnied in fright. Octavia took two steps forward, then her knees nearly buckled at the sight of the bloodied face, the top of his skull nearly blown clean away.

Somewhere close by there was an agitated shout, then the snapping of branches and the dull thud of hoofbeats receding.

"Don't look," snapped Alex as his arm came around her waist and spun her roughly away. "Catch hold of those horses. We shall need them." He took one glance at her wan face and gave her shoulders a shake. "Come, don't turn missuss on me now! It's best to be away from here as quickly as possible."

In a near daze, she obeyed his curt order while he made a quick search of the dead man's pockets. He stuffed several items into his pockets, then gathered up the pistols and came back to her side. Octavia swallowed hard and tried to control the trembling of her hands. He looked furious, and with good reason, she supposed. Once again he had been forced to risk his neck for her—he must be getting heartily tired of it.

"I..." she began.

Ignoring her halting words, he shoved all but one of the weapons into the saddlebags of one of the horses. "Stay here while I get the children," he barked.

He quickly returned with both of them in his arms. Emma was whimpering softly. Nicholas, too, had steaks of tears on his dirty cheeks though he made no sound. Alex smoothed the tangle of hair off the girl's pale brow and whispered something in her ear before placing her in saddle. He took Nicholas around to the other mount, but before lifting him in place, he set the boy on the ground and squatted down so that their faces were only inches apart. A short exchange followed, ending with Nicholas nodding solemnly and essaying a brave smile. Then he, too, was made ready for the ride.