Miss Burton Unmasks a Prince (24 page)

Rodrigo handed the key to Meg and set about gathering the garments she had discarded. Meg blushed as he lifted her petticoats and corset, but he did not give them more than a hasty glance as he bundled them with the gown and arranged them beneath the bedding. If one did not look too closely, it appeared as if two people were sleeping beneath the linens.

“Who would have thought my talent for sneaking away from my governess would end up being of such value?” He placed his finger over his lips and turned the knob, opening the door slowly.

They peeked into the hall, and then Rodrigo leaned through the doorway.

Meg gripped his arm, ready to pull him back inside at the first sound of danger. Her heart pounded.

After a moment, Rodrigo doused the lantern and took the key from Meg. He held onto her hand, and they crept into the hallway, locking the door behind them. Rodrigo opened the other door and pulled Meg inside. He hurried across the small bedchamber and attempted to open the window, but like the other, it did not open.

“We shall have to escape through the kitchen,” he said.

“The soldiers will see us.” Even in a whisper, Meg could hear her voice rise in panic.

“These soldiers are not well trained. I think they will not be overly watchful, but we will still need to be as silent as possible.”

He took Meg’s hand again and listened at the door for a moment before he opened it and started through. But he stopped suddenly and pulled Meg back into the room, closing the door behind them. Rodrigo placed his hands on her arms. “Margarita, listen to me, if we are seen, you must run. I will occupy the soldiers as long as I can, but promise me you will run as fast as you are able. I will be right behind you. Follow the road, find a town, and send word to the duke. You must not stop. Do you understand?”

Meg nodded. Her stomach was heavy, and she could not stop shaking. She would agree with him, though she had no intention of leaving him.

Rodrigo brushed a kiss over Meg’s lips, and her already pounding heart accelerated. What did he mean by it?

He stopped, tipping his head to the side, and moved his hand to her face. “According to your expression, there is some question as to my intentions. Or perhaps that was less than satisfactory?” Rodrigo slipped his hand beneath her ear, pulling her toward him and kissing her soundly.

When he pulled away, Meg blinked. Her breath came quickly, her toes tingled, and it took a moment for her mind to clear and remember their situation.

Rodrigo winked at her. He grasped her hand, leading her through the door and into shadows of the dark hallway.

The French soldiers’ voices came from the parlor area. They sounded tired, and Meg felt a bit lighter. If the men were not alert, she and Rodrigo might be able to slip past unnoticed. They stood in the hallway for a moment, listening, and Meg wished she had put more energy into her French studies.

She felt Rodrigo stiffen and glanced up at him. His attention was on the soldiers’ conversation. What had they said? Meg gave his hand a tug. He glanced to her, and the two of them slipped into the darkened kitchen.

Rodrigo moved to the window, and Meg dared a glance around the doorframe at the parlor across the hall.

The soldiers had a single lantern for light and were sprawled upon the furniture. One man snored, and the other two spoke occasionally. The men had removed their swords and set them in the corner near the front door, apparently for quick access when it was time to depart.

Rodrigo ducked down and made his way back to her. He whispered against her ear. “The sentry with the musket is directly outside. We will need to go through the main door.”

Meg shook her head. “They will hear us, and even if they do not, the cold air will notify them when the door opens.”

“We have no other choice. The boat could arrive any minute.”

Meg’s mouth went dry, and her pulse thrashed in her ears. “I have an idea.” She moved quickly, before Rodrigo had a chance to stop her, because she was certain he would.

She crept across the entryway to the group of swords, lifting one at a time into her arms, careful not to allow them to bump into each other and alert the soldiers. The weapons were much heavier than she’d anticipated.

One of the soldiers said something, and she could hear movement in the room. Meg froze in the darkened hallway. Little by little, she moved backward and pressed herself against the wall.

Meg glanced back toward Rodrigo, who stood in the shadows watching her. Even in the darkness she could see by the set of his shoulders that he was tense as a spring. His gaze shifted to the soldiers and then back to her.

The sound of movement continued, footsteps followed by a glass being refilled, and finally the regular noise of the men’s conversation resumed. Meg peeked into the room and then hunched over, pressing the swords against her to keep them quiet. She did not stop at the kitchen, but continued into the hallway at the back of the house.

Rodrigo followed. She could tell he wasn’t pleased that she had taken such a risk. He unlocked and opened the door to the room where they had originally been detained, but Meg shook her head, indicating the other room. Rodrigo opened the door and closed it once they were inside.

He took the heavy weapons from her. He strapped one around his waist. “Margarita, you should not have—”

“I know. We do not have time to argue. As of now, there is one armed man in this house. We have the advantage. I will hide these swords, and we need to find something to bind our prisoners. The other room has a key, so it will serve us better.”

Rodrigo shook his head, muttering something in Spanish. His gaze settled on Meg. “Heaven help me, how did I get involved with such a woman?” His mouth turned in a half smile. “I should have known you would devise a plan, Margarita.”

A warm glow started in Meg’s middle at his praise.

In a few minutes, they had sliced a bed sheet into strips, and Meg pushed the swords underneath the bed. They crept across the hall again to their original room. Rodrigo locked the door from the inside and pushed the key beneath. If the soldiers believed they were still locked inside and the key had simply fallen, they could maintain the element of surprise until the last possible moment.

“I will say it again, although I don’t expect you to actually listen.” He muttered some words in Spanish. “You must follow my lead, Margarita. Stay behind me, and do not allow the soldiers near you. I would have a difficult time refusing to surrender my sword if you were seized. A man could be convinced to do anything if the safety of a woman he cares for is threatened.”

“I understand.” In spite of the circumstances, Meg’s heart tripped at his words. Rodrigo cared for her, and even though it was not a declaration of his undying love, the simple statement wrapped around her heart and gave her the courage she needed.

He stood behind the door and motioned for Meg to move behind him. “Ready?” Rodrigo asked as he unsheathed his sword.

Rodrigo hefted the unfamiliar weapon, testing the weight. It was different than the swords he had trained with. He had always insisted on the highest quality Spanish steel, and his costly weapons had balanced perfectly. This military-issue sword felt bulky and unwieldy in comparison. The leather of the grip was worn, and the hilt had no hand guard. The rapier he’d worn in Spain—a Toledo blade with elegant filigreed hilt—had been more of a fashion accessory, and even though he had trained extensively in fencing, he’d never fought without the protective gloves and padded waistcoat.

He glanced toward Meg, whose eyes shone as she looked toward him. The trust in her gaze gave him a boost of courage. She had complete confidence in his ability to save them. If she knew that he was in truth a pampered, overindulged man who, until the last year, had never worried about anything more significant than whether his boots were the latest in style, would she still look to him as her champion?

He took a breath and banged his palm on the door, calling for the soldiers.

A moment later, a man opened the door and entered looking rather irritated. In an instant, he was kneeling on the ground. Rodrigo pressed his sword to the soldier’s throat, watching carefully as Meg bound his wrists and ankles with strips of bed linen then tied a strip around his mouth to keep him from crying a warning to the others.

He did not remove the blade until Meg was well away from the man.

More pounds on the door produced the other two soldiers, whose tired faces transformed to surprise followed by anger just as quickly as their comrade’s.

Rodrigo pushed them to the ground and held them at sword point until Meg had bound and gagged them, and then he moved her away quickly. He did not like how they watched Meg in the clothing she wore, and he wanted her as far from their wayward eyes as possible. He was amazed the soldiers hadn’t bothered to look for their weapons, attesting to the fact that they had not thought a prince and princess would oppose them. They’d likely been assured their assignment would be effortless. Rodrigo hoped they were severely disappointed.

Meg turned the key in the lock behind them, and they hurried through the house. It would be only a matter of time before the soldiers freed themselves from their bonds and broke down the bedchamber door to come after them.

Rodrigo cracked the front door open and studied the shadows in the darkness. He risked opening it farther with no consequence. For a split second, he was torn. The soldiers had spoken of Pierrefonds as his parents’ prison. The men bound in the bedchamber were his only link to his mother and father. Part of him wanted to return and allow them to take him to France. It was the closest he had come to discovering his parents’ whereabouts, and he was not certain if he’d have another chance. Prisoners could be relocated at any time.

Meg held onto his arm, and he felt the weight of her safety again on his shoulders. He glanced at her, and his heart constricted. Nothing was as important as Meg’s protection. It would be a different story if she were safe. He pushed thoughts of Pierrefonds from his mind and nodded, taking Meg’s hand and pulling her through the door. They crouched in the shadows next to the house for a brief moment until their eyes became accustomed to the darkness.

Meg shivered, rubbing her arms through her thin shirt, and he shrugged off his coat, helping her put it on. The coattails nearly touched the ground, and the sleeves fell well past her hands. Meg lifted one arm, shaking it to free her hand, and she clasped Rodrigo’s again.

From the side of the house, a path led down the cliff to the water below. A boat bobbed on the waves, apparently waiting to take them to the ship when the signal came. There was still no sign of the sentry.

Rodrigo pointed toward the road they’d arrived on. It followed a straight path through the field in front of the cottage and then disappeared behind a shadowy clump of trees. They would be exposed but only briefly. “Run for the trees,” he whispered in Meg’s ear.

Meg nodded, but her hand trembled in his.

He glanced around once more before breaking out of the shadows and dashing across the open space. Meg followed as closely as she could, stumbling once, but he pulled her on, wishing he’d found a pair of shoes to replace her dancing slippers. The thin soles offered no protection from the rocky ground. He slowed his pace slightly to keep Meg next to him.

The crash of a gunshot echoed behind them, and Rodrigo threw Meg to the ground, lying next to her and holding her head against his. His heartbeat thrashed painfully in his ears as he tried to push aside his panic and assess the situation.

Meg shook next to him. Her hands covered her face.

“Are you hurt?” he asked, dreading her answer.

She shook her head, moving her hands to look at him with bulging eyes. “You?”

“No,” Rodrigo said, and Meg breathed a sigh. “We must not allow him time to reload.” He jumped to his feet, pulling out his sword and whirling around, searching for the soldier who had fired at them.

Meg screamed, and Rodrigo turned, lifting his sword instinctively as the sentry leapt from the trees and brought his own sword crashing down upon Rodrigo’s. The force of the blow jarred him, and it was quickly followed by another, which Rodrigo just managed to parry. The hours of training were the only thing protecting Rodrigo. He was completely out of his element.

The man obeyed none of the rules of swordplay. His thrusts were not graceful, his footwork ugly. Each blow was accompanied by a grunt, and spittle flew from his mouth when he made contact.

Rodrigo knew that while he had better training in gentlemanly combat, this man carried a wealth of experience. He’d fought in actual battles, real contests of life or death. This soldier intended to kill him or at least wound him badly enough that he wouldn’t be able to escape again. He delivered a battering of blows. Some Rodrigo managed to block; others glanced off his sword at odd angles, grazing his flesh.

Rodrigo’s forearms were slashed, sweat covered his body, and he did not know how he could possibly compete with this seasoned combatant. A movement caught his eye. Meg stood wrapped in his coat, her fingers clawing her cheeks. A look of supreme terror had seized her expression. In that instant, Rodrigo remembered that he was not only fighting for his own life. If he was defeated, Meg would be left in this man’s control. She would be taken to France, revealed as an imposter, and sent to the guillotine. The knowledge steeled his insides.

He allowed the emotions he had held in check to surface. The anger, fear, and frustration for his family, his country, and the woman he loved all combined. Energy surged in his veins, and with a yell, Rodrigo brought his sword down. The soldier blocked it easily and twisted, slashing at Rodrigo’s torso and slicing his waistcoat. Rodrigo lunged, but the man kicked his feet out from beneath him, and he dropped to the ground.

Meg screamed his name.

The soldier lifted his arm to deliver a killing blow, but Rodrigo lurched and thrust his sword upwards through the man’s body. He was mildly surprised at how easy it was to drive a sharpened piece of metal through another human being. Rather like slicing a cake. The soldier’s eyes glazed, and he fell backward, pulling Rodrigo’s sword with him.