“Yes.” He smiled.
“With the boy who bullied you?” She smiled. “Hawk?”
“There were five of us… But enough questions.” Not opening his eyes, he oh, so easily pulled her into his arms, tucking her head onto his chest. “I doubt you slept much better than I did, but we’ve plenty of time before we get there. Be comfortable and hush, princesse, so we can both sleep.”
She wanted to be offended at his bossiness, but that was difficult with his spicy manliness assaulting all of her senses and his powerful body cushioning her protectively.
So instead, she lifted her feet onto the seat beside her and burrowed a little deeper. He was right. Sleep had not come easily the night before. How could he make her feel so protected and comfortable sometimes, and so utterly off kilter at others?
Before she could examine the question much closer, she put one hand on his chest, took a deep breath, and allowed the motion of the carriage to rock her to sleep.
They’d stopped.
Rubbing her eyes, Ambrosia sat up and then stretched. Mr. Beckman had exited the carriage without waking her and was outside talking with Mr. Daniels.
They seemed to be in the middle of nowhere.
Nothing but open fields stretched out in every direction with a scattering of cows dotting the landscape. Ambrosia leaned forward to better study her surroundings, but just as she reached for the carriage door, something gave her pause.
Mr. Beckman had taken hold of Mr. Daniels by the shoulder, his stance unusually firm for what ought to be a routine exchange. His tone, though too quiet to discern, carried an unmistakable weight. Then she watched as Dash reached into his coat and withdrew what appeared to be a substantial stack of banknotes. Mr. Daniels accepted the money and carefully tucked it away.
Ambrosia frowned.
Why had Dash given him money? She’d said that she trusted him. And she did! But she couldn’t help the flicker of unease that sparked at the back of her mind.
Dash clapped his hands together, brushing them off like a man who’d just dealt with something tiresome, and turned back toward the carriage—back toward her.
She quickly composed herself and pushed open the door. “Where are we?” she asked lightly, careful to keep her tone cheerful. She didn’t want to question him. Not really. Not after the camaraderie they’d finally settled into.
But still… money? Was it a bribe, or simply payment for something innocuous? And why was he giving orders to her driver?
What wasn’t he telling her?
“We are but a few miles from Amesbury.” He looked distinctly pleased with himself. “Monsieur Daniels will change the horses and return for us later. But for you, for me—and for your son—our next leg of the journey will be upon our own two feet.” His gaze dropped pointedly to Mr. Dog. “Or four, bien sûr… if his little legs can manage it.”
Perhaps the money had something to do with repairs for the carriage? In which case, she ought to be consulted. Or maybe it had to do with locating Guinevere?
She hopped to the ground before he could reach her.
“Walk where?” She’d never heard of Amesbury. “We’re in the middle of nowhere.”
But instead of answering, he took Mr. Dog’s lead in one hand and extended the other toward her, palm up, waiting.
“This way, princesse.”
She’d seen the money. She’d seen the look on his face, the one he used when he wasn’t being entirely honest. But when his fingers curled gently around hers, all her hesitation melted.
Maybe she was besotted.
She didn’t care.
Because something about the way he touched her made her feel brave enough to follow him anywhere.
“Won’t you give me a clue?” she asked, narrowing her eyes at the teasing glint in his.
“Regardez là-bas,” he said, tipping his chin toward the horizon. His hand was warm around hers, his fingers brushing her knuckles as he pointed. In the distance, a dark, jagged shape disrupted the gentle roll of the green hills.
She blinked. “Is that…?” Her breath caught. “Stonehenge? Is that really so near?”
