Protection

Chapter Two

Chapter Two

The thunder rolled loudly, and the distinct liquid thwip of rain on the carriage roof had all but lulled Alex to sleep. He was weary from the last two days, and he could only hope that she would remain as silent as she had been. Good.  

He shifted on the uncomfortable leather seat, and looked out of one eye to find her nose buried in, no doubt, the most fashionable book of the season. The fact that she did what everyone else said was proper and becoming drove him crazy. That was the problem with her.  

Alex grunted, and crossed his arms over his chest. He brought his long legs up on the opposite side of her seat, his boots squeaking on the leather.  

Her eyes snapped to where his boots rested. He grinned to himself, relishing her apparent disgust.  

"I would be pleased if you would kindly remove your feet," murmured she, one beautiful eyebrow arching up over her slightly tanned skin.  

"Kindly?" he asked. 

"Yes, Monsieur. Kindly. In a courteous manner; nicely." Sarcasm coated her words. Hairs bristled up his spine, and so, there he settled, ignoring her annoyed request. 

He heard her huff, and laughed inside. For an unknown reason, causing her irritation gave him wonderful pleasure. Watching her eyes darken with agitation bade him to find new ways to, as some would say, drive her up the wall. 

There was no way he could have deflected the blow made to his forehead. He felt something smack him, and, puzzled, opened his eyes, revealing a dishevelled little woman, hands clutched angrily. Her volume was absent, and he realized a split second later, that she had thrown her book at him. 

"You have more spirit than I thought," he grumbled, rubbing the tender throb at his temple.  

"Call it what you want," she hissed, "but I will have you know I will not tolerate the way you have treated me! You have completely disregarded my wishes and my emotions these last several days! Y-" 

"You will not tolerate the way I have treated you? For two days, all you have done is worry about you. Do forgive me for lavishing my attention and compassion elsewhere, I forgot that you are the only woman in the world!" he roared, half expecting her to cry. 

"And isn't that accusation hypocritical!" she cried. "You haven't bothered to ask about me, you- you- cad! That's exactly what you are! And inconsiderate, low-life, gutter-minded c-" 

She was interrupted by the abrupt halt of the carriage, and the sharp sound of gunfire through the air. The jolt sent her flying forward, and she landed with a loud whoomf on his knees.  

Alex barely had time to react by the time the horses yanked forward. Something rolled off the the seat of the carriage, and the two wheels on the left went lopsided for a split second. He shoved the girl off him, not bothering to look back and see if her injuries were fatal, and swung the carriage door open.  

The driver was missing! His heart jumped, and he slid from the step to the seat, almost losing his balance. Alex snatched the reigns, and pulled back as far as he could. Adrenaline thundered through his temples, and the rain poured over him. His clothes stuck to his body, and he wrapped the reigns tightly around his fisted hands twice. The horses slowed, until he pulled back as far as he could, digging the heels of his boots into the small lip of the seat. They fell into a comfortable trot in the rain, then stopped altogether.  

Terror churned in Alayna's stomach, mingling with the stabbing pain from having made contact with the bony, unforgiving knees of Alexander Pembroke.  

She stumbled out of the carriage, into the pouring rain, feeling hot, acidic bile rising in her throat. It came all at once, spewing out of her mouth and nose, leaving what she was certain would be a permanent, searing burn in her nasal cavities.The rain soaked her clothes, soaking through her dress and molding the silk to her body. Her hair came loose from its simple style, falling in dark waves around her face.

   When at last the vomiting ceased, feelings of defeat drowned her. She grasped the carriage wheels' spokes, gasping for air. Not again. She thought that she had been rid of them. Five years had passed. How could they possibly have found her?

   It indeed they were the culprits.

 "Madam'selle, are you harmed?"

 She glanced out of the corner of her eye, and there he stood, coming from behind them, the ends of his black hair dripping with water. He looked so tall and protective- and- "I am fine," she croaked, swallowing the bitter taste in her mouth.

   "The coachman is dead," he said.

  Horror flowed through her. "Was it him we...?"

  "Yes," he said evenly. "But he was already dead. Whoever it was," he sighed, and pushed the wet strands back, "they had excellent aim." He tapped his temple with his index finger. "Shot through the head."

  For a minute, she said nothing. They stood there in the rain. The shock made her feel sick once again, but thank goodness all she had eaten was breakfast.

   "What now?"

 "Now?" he repeated. "We continue on to the next village, for help."

 She started to get back into the carriage, relief beginning to cool her heated, nervous senses.

 "I take it you can't ride bare back?"

 Stopping, Alayna faced him. "Why would I need to ride bare back?"

  "We cannot take the carriage. Four spokes are broken, and its too much of a risk," he stated.

 She observed the wheel ahead of her, and found that, indeed, four spokes were cracked, broken in half, or missing entirely.

 No, he couldn't know. The more people who knew, the more danger there was. So Alayna pretended she had no idea why he had added the last part. She cleared her throat nervously. "Um, what do you mean, risk?"

   His expression turned from something that was a mere provocation to something deadly, toxic, and threatening. "It appears, Madam'selle Bordreaux, that we are being hunted."

   "How could you tell?"

 Her eyes followed his to the small but unmistakable hole in the carriage wall, exactly where she had been sitting. The fear was so sickening, so overcoming and powerful, she saw the stars falling, and the next thing she knew, it was black.

   It was extremely difficult to ride a horse bare back while holding an unconcious woman. It was a blessed thing that the next village was only about a mile and a half down the road.

   Alex hadn't thought she would faint. He thought she would cry and tell him, no, that wasn't going to happen. Though much to his dismay, she had slumped down to the muddy, wet ground in a dead faint.

   With a vile curse, he had scooped her loose, unconcious body up, plopped her down into the carriage, and went to unhook the horses. When he came back, she was still out cold. It was then that he noticed, with a grin, that her cheek was all muddy.

   He had taken out his handkerchief, and swiped the mud away.

 And thus, they were on their way to the next village. Alex couldn't shake the feeling that he was being watched, and he didn't like it. The fine hairs on the back of his neck had stood on end as he started away from the carriage, the dead man, and the many trunks containing posessions he was sure had been expensive.

   Well, let the highwaymen have it, he thought. He would get her new things in London.

 The rain had stopped, at least, and he was sure the temperature had fallen a couple degrees. "I hate autumn," he muttered. He could stand being cold, but he didn't like it. Being soaked wasn't such an issue either.

   Feeling as though you were being followed wasn't something he could stand. He knew there was someone following them.

 All Alex questioned in his head was why.