Gallant Rogue (Reluctant Heroes Book 3) (26 page)

“And your maid? Do you wish her to attend you or shall I return to help you undress?”

“If you would be so kind, sister? Marta deserves one night away from her duties.”

*    *   *

Morning light made the room Chloe had been given glow with a soft peach hue. She emerged from her bed and peered out at the interior courtyard. She heard laughter. It was Marta’s youthful laughter. The girl was picking something in the garden with another young woman who could only be a sister as she had the familiar dress and head linens. They seemed to be getting on well. Marta’s changed countenance was a blessing, as Chloe had not wished to be burdened with a high-strung adolescent girl on the verge of hysteria for the remainder of the journey.

Marta saw her and waved up at her, all sunshine and wonder this dewy, golden morning.

“There is my mistress!” She pointed up at Chloe, “Isn’t she beautiful, like the Madonna you speak of. Ma’am, isn’t this a wonderful place?”

Chloe waved and nodded. Marta’s spirits had recovered, it seemed, thanks to the good sister's care. Chloe moved from the window and started to go through her valise. She wished she had brought more traveling outfits. The one she wore the past three days was no longer clean. It smelled of sweat and had been darkened by road dust. She brushed the blue and brown plaid dress last night in an attempt to tidy it for another day, a menial chore she was not unacquainted with. Chloe had been a personal maid before she became a married woman.

She liked this dress. It was serviceable. Elizabeth helped her choose the fabric. It was cotton, sensible, able to withstand the rigors of the road better than delicate muslin or silk. The matching blue velvet pelisse was the same color as Jack’s eyes.

Jack
. The thought of him made her feel odd little pin pricks of excitement in her belly. She smiled softly as she admired the pale blue fabric.

“Ma’am?” Marta’s youthful voice intruded as the girl slipped into her room without knocking. “I thought you would want help in dressing and packing?”

Chloe raised her attentions from the contemplation of her dusty outer garments. “The question hardly requires thought. You are my maid, not a lap pet. It is your duty to assist me.”

She knew she sounded sharp, but the girl had been coddled enough. Marta needed to return to her duties, the better to forget yesterday’s unfortunate incident.

Jack paced in front of the carriage. He glanced at the heavy wooden doors of the convent, arched doors that remained closed. They were in the outer courtyard, before the iron gate, awaiting the ladies so they might take up their journey. The sun had risen hours ago, and still, there was no sign of the women emerging from the sanctified feminine refuge.

“Perhaps they took holy orders in the night,” Jinx teased. “Scared into service for the church. That bunch yesterday might have frightened them into the idea.”

“Not Mrs. O’Donovan,” Jack said, careful to use Chloe’s formal name lest he reveal more of himself than he wished.

“
Mrs. O’Donovan
,” Jinx chirped, not missing a beat. “Aye, and there is the goddess herself.” He gestured to the small door that had been opened within the larger one.

Chloe emerged, dressed in a somber outfit. Her old mourning dress, Jack realized. She had that oversized bonnet on her head again. Why black? She should never wear black. Rich colors brought out the vibrancy of her eyes and complimented her pale skin.

“What is this?” Jack closed the gap between them, gesturing to her mourning attire.

“My traveling dress and coat are unsuitable for further use. This,” Chloe made a sweeping gesture with her hand down the black ruched silk skirt, “--is the only other gown I have that might stand up to the rigors of this journey. At least it will not show the dirt so.” She smiled at him, as if she thought donning the clothing that signified loss and sorrow was clever.

“Humpff.” Jack grunted, turned on his heel and walked away from her. “Jinx, see that Mrs. O’Donovan and her maid are helped into the carriage. We’ve wasted enough daylight.”

They traveled east of the Sierra de la Nieves and paused at the town of El Quera to rest the horses and eat before they started the journey south to toward Guaro. They would be at her uncle's villa by nightfall as Guaro was about two to three hours journey south following the mountain road.

Morgan had gone on ahead with his horse to scout the landscape. The mountains afforded them a bird’s eye view of much of the terrain. They stopped unexpectedly a couple of hours later. Jack took Chloe’s arm and led her far away from the carriage, into a small rift in the rocks, away from view of the road. She turned at the sound of hurried footfalls and found Jinx pulling Mara firmly along by the arm. His rifle was hanging from one arm as he followed Jack's lead by dragging the girl into the protection of the carved rocks.

“Stay here,” Jack said. “And whatever you do, be quiet. Sit here, and wait for us to return for you.” His severe tone made even Marta hold her tongue.

Chloe had sat down on a serviceable rock and folded her hands, obedient as she had promised she would be when Jack thought they were in danger.

Marta sat at her feet. “I left my book in the carriage.” She flicked a dried leave from her skirt.

“I said be quiet,” Jack returned. “Wait for us here.” He looked at Chloe, not Marta. His lips moved, and she saw rather than heard his answer.
Soldiers
.  He made a motion with his hand to indicate said troops were traveling up from the valley below.

A hawk circled above them, screeching warning. Jack left them and Jinx followed. Lt. Morgan came, bearing three rifles in his arms. Two of the hired men carried Chloe’s large trunk and set it a few feet away from her. They disappeared again, following Jack to the road. Morgan climbed up on the rounded stone above Chloe and Marta. He quickly laid out the rifles and then lay flat so he could not be seen from the road. He propped one rifle to his shoulder.

The clip-clopping of horse’s hooves signaled that the carriage was moving further ahead. They were making an effort to hide Chloe and Marta from discovery by the soldiers. Chloe’s neck prickled with goose flesh. She watched the top of the shiny black coach roll slowly past. It gleamed like obsidian in the sunlight. She heard the horses move past her hideaway and wondered what would become of them out here if they lost their carriage and horses.

Several minutes passed with no one daring to speak.

Jack returned, startling the women as he crept behind them without a word or a crunch of gravel. Marta squeaked at his appearance. He put his finger to his lips, gesturing for her to be silent. The girl obeyed. Jack’s posture was rigid, alert, every muscle in his body tense.

The sound of marching echoed from the stone pass beyond. It grew louder, ever louder as the soldiers approached from below.

Chloe looked to Jack. His hand tensed on the barrel of his rifle and his grim expression said enough. Jinx was just visible a few feet from his captain, tense and still as a stable cat waiting to pounce on a rat.

Where were the hired men? Did Jack send them on to meet the soldiers alone? Surely  they would betray them if caught by the French. She wanted to ask Jack, but dared not speak at such a precipitous time.
Trust him, her heart said; trust him to get you safely home.

The sound of horses and marching increased tenfold in her ears. The infantrymen progressed past their hiding place, muttering as they went. Muted weeping caught their ears---a woman's weeping. Chloe’s eyes darted to Jack, pleading.

No.
He mouthed silently and made a slicing gesture with his hand.

It seemed to take forever before the vibration of the earth ceased. Finally, Morgan sat up and waved to his captain. Jack’s hold on his rifle eased and he stepped close to Chloe. Jinx came close too. Morgan was about to hop down and join them.

“No, stay and watch,” Jack said tersely. “Watch that line.”

Morgan flattened himself again and watched from his perch above the road.

“Forty men at least,” Morgan whispered. "Twelve on horseback."

“And a woman,” Chloe pointed out. “Can you not do something?”

“I will not leave you unguarded to challenge forty men,” Jack returned hotly. “It would be suicide. And then you would be alone in the wilderness. How would you get to your uncle's home without me and my men? It's a long walk to Guaro from here,
senora
!”

“I would walk. It is less than three hours by carriage. I would make it there eventually. I am not a spoiled child needing your superior guidance."

“You reason as a child. Threatening to strike out on your own to Villa Almendra, logic and reason be damned. You were safe in Cadiz. This is why I didn't leave you there. I knew you wouldn’t leave well enough alone and wait for dear old Uncle Miguel—“

“Can we discuss this later?” Jinx snapped. “The soldiers are hardly a mile away.”

Jack scowled and glanced away from the group.  His cheek seemed to be quivering. Chloe watched it. His cheek was twitching just on the one side, as if he was under great strain. She guessed he wished to scold her further for her foolish decision in bringing them here to be murdered by the French.

“Captain?” Morgan’s uncertain voice captured Jack’s full attention. “You better come see this.” Morgan waved with his free hand, compelling Jack to climb up beside him.

Jack set his rifle on the ground and crept up onto the boulder. He pressed himself flat, mimicking Morgan’s position and studied the road. “
Damnation!
”

He scrambled down, and hurried to Chloe’s side, “Two horses are headed this way. Move, now. Away from the road.” Jack grasped his rifle in one hand, gripped Chloe’s elbow in the other, and hurried down the back side of their rocky perch. “Jinx, Morgan, get that trunk out of sight. Put it with our horses.”

Marta was at their heels as they fled deeper into the brush, away from the large boulders that had formed a shield between them and the mountain road.

“Come on, don’t mourn the loss of your fancy gowns or you’ll lose far more before it’s finished. You and your maid will join that woman in providing their nightly entertainment.” 

Jack was pulling her along down a steep ravine through bushes and thick roots that tripped her and impeded her progress. Marta was behind them. She helped Chloe up when she fell over a nasty tree root and continued down the ravine holding Chloe's other arm. They hurried down the ravine and stopped close to the river bed. Finally, Jack pulled them several feet to the right to hide behind the crown of earth and the twisted roots of an upturned tree. The three of them hunkered down and hid behind the large blind. Chloe was holding her side, struggling to silence her heavy breathing as they waited for the soldiers to come crashing through the brush on horseback to confront them.

Marta was starting to whimper. The poor child had nerves made of custard. Chloe put her arm about the girl and shushed her. She took Marta’s chin in her hand, stared directly into the girl’s frightened eyes and hissed, “
Enough
.”

The girl pinched her lips together tightly.

More waiting. Jack was as still as a statue, the gun gripped tight in one hand and his other splayed on Chloe's back. He was staring intently ahead, at the river. She realized he was listening for any disturbance behind them.

Voices carried from high above the ravine. The soldiers were talking. She couldn’t make it out. Just the low murmur of male voices, nothing more. The steady drumbeat of her heart in her ears made it difficult to hear any words from so far away. She heard the noise of the stream below them and the piercing cry of a bird in the trees above.

After several moments of silence, Jack let go of her. He still held the rifle as he slowly rose up from his crouched position. He peered through the tangled mass of dirt and tree roots that had formed a ten-foot shield between them and the scouts on horseback above. She turned on her heels so she could better see Jack's face from her low crouch and gauge their situation from the expression therein. His face remained severe as he observed the steep embankment.

The sound of soft footfalls nearby made Chloe clutch Jack’s leg above the knee and hold on, preparing for the worst. It was Jinx. He had his rifle slung over his shoulder. His face, normally relaxed and pleasant, was grave. He stepped close and Chloe released her grip on Jack’s leg. Jack’s hand brushed over her shoulder and across her head, stroking the top of it as he stepped away to confer with his man. Chloe reached up to smooth her hair, realizing she’d left her bonnet in the carriage in their haste to escape detection.

Morgan appeared on the opposite side of the dried, charcoal gray span of tree roots. He pulled his fingers through his chestnut hair. “I think they found the carriage, sir. It’s standing at the side of the gorge about two miles ahead, horseless.”

“What of the men driving the carriage?” Jack asked.

“They stopped as soon as they were clear of us and ran into the cover of trees, I'm guessing. I didn't see our men with the scouts, so they weren't taken prisoner. The scouts took the horses, though, Cap'n. Left the carriage sitting by the road.”

"Fools. I told them to move on and if stopped say they were returning to their master after taking their lady north to El Quera. What direction did the scouts go?”

“Back north, toward their camp, sir. Probably to report the abandoned carriage.”

*   *   *

They waited at the base of the felled tree. It gave them good cover. None could see them from the road above the ravine. As the sun began to lower in the sky, Jack noticed Chloe was shivering. He took off his jacket and covered her shoulders with it. She was sitting on the ground in her black silk mourning garb, appearing dejected.

Her maid sat next to her, bored and antsy as she sorted rocks into little piles.

“Morgan, stay here with the women.” Jack decided it was time to act. “Make a fire, a very small one, and keep behind this shield. See if you can snare a rabbit. Marta can help you.”