“We’d better go before they discover—” he began.
“Contessa!”
Their heads swung up to the window, where Dominic stood,
leaning over the ledge with one fist upon the rope. It seemed he couldn’t see
them just yet and Christian startled her when he suddenly caught her about the
waist and dove for the shadows directly beneath the tower window. Once there,
she understood why, low vines covered them from view.
Christian then took her hand into his and pulled her along
the edges of the garden toward the gap in the hedge. She stumbled as they moved
into the thick undergrowth carpeting the woods. “Can you run?” he asked? “I
don’t think we’ll make it if I have to carry you.”
Fear still drove her. “Yes,” she said, willing to do
anything. She didn’t care that her limbs already ached from climbing down that
rope. She didn’t care if she froze to death. She didn’t care if the brambles
sliced up her legs. She only wanted to flee this place.
With the sound of hoof beats pounding the earth, she knew
they were going to fail.
He’ll catch us as easily as he caught me before
,
she thought unhappily. “He’s coming,” she whispered.
Christian looked back toward the hedge and she could see by
the way his face tightened with concern that he could hear it too.
“This way,” was all he said before leading her to a large
ancient-looking tree and tucking them between the overgrown roots which had
worked their way out of the soil and along the ground like a great motionless
sea creature. With her back against the bark, he leaned into her gently and
uttered another string of Gaelic words.
“What was that?” she asked in a hushed voice that was
further muffled into the linen of his black shirtsleeves.
“A masking spell combined with a confusion spell.”
“He’ll see through it.”
“We can only hope he doesn’t.” And he gave her fingers a
reassuring squeeze.
She jumped when Dominic’s horse cleared the hedge with ease.
Even though they had made it farther away than she had the other night, they
remained within plain view, and her heart pounded loudly inside her head.
Unable to watch, Contessa buried her face into Christian’s
back and listened to the sound of the fierce animal stomp around them, closer
and closer.
Contessa’s fingers curled into the fabric of Christian’s
shirt when Dominic growled, “Where are you, you rebellious wench! I promise
that what I threatened before will be far worse if you do not reveal yourself.”
Christian slid his arms back and held her. The silent
gesture was as comforting as she figured he meant it to be.
Moments ticked on and it sounded like Dominic was terribly
close. She gnawed at her lip until she tasted blood. He spoke again, “I’ll find
you, and when I do, you’ll regret it. You’ll regret embarrassing me like this.”
After another lengthy amount of time, the sounds of his
search ceased and it seemed like he’d returned to the castle.
Quiet held her heart captive for a while longer before
Christian finally moved away and tugged her free of the roots. They traveled farther
into the forest. “Where are we going?” she asked. “Isn’t England across the channel?”
“It is. We’re going north to Dover Straits to cross.”
“How far is that?”
“Too far to walk in one night. We’re stopping soon.”
“I don’t need to rest,” she lied. Her arms and legs trembled
with fatigue. “We must keep going.” She may have said the words with feeling,
but they came out so weak there was no commitment behind them.
“He won’t find us,” he replied.
“You do not know him. He is relentless!”
“Contessa, you’re about to collapse.”
That was something she could not bring herself to care
about, getting as far away as possible from that sadistic man was far more
important. “I’m fine!”
He wasn’t buying it. Perhaps it was because she’d stumbled
when she said it. Christian let go of her hand and dropped to his knees next to
a pile of leaves at the base of a tree trunk. From the bracken he produced a
rucksack. From that he produced a blanket which he wrapped around her. “The
masking spell worked. The blackguard looked right at us, but he did not see
us.”
“What if he figures it out? He took all of Tabitha’s spells
from me. He’s powerful, dangerous, and too cunning to be underestimated.”
After gathering her to his chest, he whispered in a gentle
tone, “Darling, if we keep going you’ll swoon and I cannot carry you in that
state the distance we need to go. I had wanted to bring a horse, but we feared
Dominic would hurt you if it were discovered while I attempted to free you.
You’ve accomplished a great deal tonight, but you’re tired from the effort.
Trust me, your father and Tabitha have prepared me with spells and skills I did
not have before. In fact” –he patted the sword slung about his hips, a boyish
smirk took to his mouth— “I have your father’s blade, and he trained me in the
way of fey sword fighting.”
Her eyes rounded. “You-you found them?”
“They found me and told me where they were.”
“Are they free?”
“No, but since I’m human, I could go through the mist to
their castle. They still cannot escape it.”
“Are they well?”
“They looked quite well to me.” His expression fell without
warning and he pulled away to lead her to a fallen log. “But there’s a lot I
need to tell you.”
She sat down, tucking the blanket between her knees. “What
is it?”
“First, however—” He muttered a few words that sounded Welsh
and a green fire rose before her in the grass growing there. “Tabitha taught
this to me. ‘Tis a fire without wood that cannot be seen, will not produce
smoke, but will warm us both quite thoroughly.”
He then moved toward her, lifted her from the log, sat down
in front of it and settled her upon his lap. Once she was situated and the heat
from the flames reached through the wool covering her, heating her, he asked,
“Are you warm yet?”
She nodded but he didn’t seem convinced because he carefully
pushed a hand into the blanket, nudged off her slipper and wrapped fingers
around her toes. Only then did he seem satisfied as he reached into his satchel
and pulled out a small glass bottle.
“What is that?” she asked.
“A salve for your wounds.”
The cuts along her legs did burn, but modesty made her tug
the blanket tighter around herself. It’s true that he had seen her in her under
things earlier, but there’d been nothing she could have done about that.
“Christian, I’m fine. Tell me about....”
“In a minute.” Feeling her cheeks heat, she fought him
without success as he drew her leg from beneath the wool, took off the lid and
dipped his fingers into something that smelled like mint, lavender, and
eucalyptus.
The moment the cooling cream touched her scrapes she relaxed
because it soothed the bite from the brambles and branches that had ravaged her
poor flesh as they ran. After applying the salve to every abrasion on her shins
and ankles, he said, “This will work for those welts on your arms, too.”
Again she protested when he reached for the buttons of
her—his coat. “Oh, no. Really, I’m much better now. And,” she added, when she
saw her first argument wasn’t working, “I’m getting cold again.” As adamantly
as she could, Tessa tucked herself back in and faked a shiver. “Please,” she
tried, batting her lashes at him, “tell me.”
Christian flashed, what she decided was, a deliberate
dimple. Apparently he suspected her fib, but only said, “Very well,” as he
stuffed the pot of salve back into his bag.
That handsome dimple disappeared as fast as it had appeared
and she realized the direction of his thoughts had shifted to a place he didn’t
like. He exhaled as though what he was about to say would come as a shock.
Christian brushed a few strands of her hair behind her ear and then told her
all that her parents had told him.
Moments later she found herself curled against his chest
weeping for her mother and father, weeping for the time lost between them, but
tears of joy mingled with the sad for she now knew she’d never been dead. And
she understood why she still could not remember everything about herself,
including magic she knew she possessed but could not access even now.
“King James gave his consent,” said Christian.
The comment caused her to lift her head in surprise.
“He gave his consent for us to marry.”
She felt a smile bloom within her heart as it began to grow
until it reached her lips.
His eyes darkened with something that whispered of love but
burned with need as he gathered her chin between his thumb and forefinger.
Angling her mouth closer, Christian covered her lips with his. The caress
defined tender as though he’d invented the maneuver. And it was the kind of
kiss that made the crickets fall silent in awe, the owls hoot with jealousy,
and the trees weep with joy.
At least that is how she perceived it.
His fingers left her face and slid into her hair, holding
her mouth against his and she was lost within his consuming touch.... After
he’d kissed her senseless for quite some time, she enjoyed a comfortable sleep
cuddled against Christian’s warmth and strength.
Chapter
32
Unforeseen
Ever After
Christian tucked a hand into her blanket to see if her fingers
and toes were still warm. He smiled when he discovered they were rather toasty.
She’d felt like ice before, which had worried him. Not to mention how her body
shook with the effort it cost her to keep up with him for as long as she had.
He knew she hadn’t realized he noticed how tightly she clung to him as they’d
trudged through the tangled forest, and how her legs barely held her. His fingers
moved along her cheek. Pleased with the color in her face, which had been as
pale as death earlier, he tried to ignore how his stomach rolled with concern
at the memory of seeing her look so weak and ashen, her washed-out face
practically glowing in the filtered moonlight. After enjoying the sight of her
sleeping in his arms for a moment or two, he attempted to wake her with a kiss.
She moaned and stirred but only curled herself in closer to
his body.
The sun was not yet visible, but the glow of morning was
brightening the sky with a gradient cast of azure. The smell of rotting leaves,
bark, and dirt permeated the air. The world also smelled wet, and he noted with
a grimace, that his trousers felt rather damp. Christian extinguished the fire
with one word and stretched out his legs. Again she shifted and complained with
a faint mumble about his change in position. His stiff muscles protested as
well. “Contessa, wake up. We need to get moving.”
Thick lashes fluttered to reveal dazed orbs of green.
“How did you sleep?” he asked.
Contessa’s eyes rounded and her body tensed. “Dominic!”
“Has not discovered us.”
“Yet.” There was a great deal of hopelessness and fear in
that one word.
He didn’t want to waste time worrying about what might
happen right now. They needed to eat and then leave as quickly as possible.
After digging around in his satchel, Christian presented a
package wrapped in linen. When he revealed what was inside she gasped. “Fey
honey cakes!”
“From your mother, princess, or rather, Your Royal Highness.”
he said, taking one for himself as she bit into the spiced wafer.
“Please, just call me Contessa.”
“Of course.” Internally he chuckled, realizing he was doing
to her what Jackson did to him. As the crumbly biscuit melted inside his mouth,
he noted an unusual flavor for a sweet. Rosemary. “Mmm, these are nice.”
She nodded, finished off the first one and reached for
another.
He did too. Queen Annabelle had packed more than a dozen of
them. But after his third, he decided he was thirsty and figured she must also
be. Christian retrieved the water skin and offered it to her first.
Once they were finished, he lifted her with him as he stood.
Every joint creaked and groaned with the movement. “Can you walk?” he asked,
lowering her feet to the forest floor. In truth, he wasn’t sure if he could manage
it after spending the night like he had. He kept a hold of her until she
steadied herself, hoping he could do the same.
“Yes.”
“We shouldn’t tarry any longer. I believe we’re only a few
miles from the shore.” He slung the satchel over his head and rested the strap
on his shoulder.
Contessa’s gaze darted around the clearing, and weariness
was visible in every line of her face.
Christian lifted her hand from the blanket and linked his
fingers through hers. She clutched at the wool with her other hand to keep it
in place and shuddered from the chill of night that clung to the air. The
blanket was too long, and it draped around behind her like a train, but at
least her legs were covered. He took a step toward the north and froze.
A branch had snapped, and it wasn’t either of them who’d
done it.
As an unnatural quiet fell upon the woods, Christian scanned
their surroundings but saw no one and heard nothing more than their breathing,
which seemed uncomfortably loud at the moment.
“Could it have been a doe?” she asked upon a soft shaky
whisper.
“I hope that’s all it was.”
Tightening his hold on her hand he took another step and
another, hearing nothing more than their footfalls.
Then, “Halt!” bellowed Dominic Renard.
Christian let loose a violent curse, shoved Contessa behind
his back, and withdrew her father’s blade. He then shouted an incantation in
Gaelic, and fortified it with one in Welsh. It should have taken the sword from
the prince’s hand and flung it into the forest. Unfortunately, that was not the
case.
“I’ll confess it took me all night to figure it out, but
once I realized you were using the witch’s magic, with—I might add—a very
creative twist, it was easy to track you.”