~ ~ ~
That night, Cosette and Davien walked downstairs hand in hand. He was dressed in his same black attire, with that contrast of white, while she was fully attired in a sackback dress in blue and ivory stripes. After a bath, where the warm water had done wonders for her sore back, she had donned full undergarments, wincing only slightly as she tied the laces of her stays.
Silk stockings graced her legs and her feet were adorned with blue buckle pumps. Her hair was styled around her head in a pile of dark curls, and a fashionable straw bonnet graced the top with several white ostrich plumes as an adornment. She looked like a duchess tonight, but she felt like it as she looked into Davien’s dark eyes. They smoldered, a reminder of what they had shared only a short time ago, but it was the smile that graced those masculine lips that took her breath. It wasn’t his usual smirk, or even a sly grin, but it was as if he was genuinely . . . happy.
“You are stunning, Miss du Bouir,” he had said upon seeing her.
She didn’t know it, but a smile had lit up her entire face at the compliment. “Thank you.”
But now as they reached the foyer, she turned to him. She bit her lip anxiously, for something had been bothering her, yet she’d been reluctant to give voice to it before now. “Earlier,” she said. “It wasn’t like . . . the last time. I wonder why.”
“Perhaps we were given a reprieve,” he returned, although she could tell by his distant expression that he had wondered the same thing. “It doesn’t matter,” he murmured. “Don’t give it another thought.”
She nodded, although she knew it would be easier said than done.
“Are ye two aboot done moonin’ over each other so we can go?” Charlotte stomped down the stairs. Quinn had gone down to the stables earlier to prepare the coach. Since Davien was missing one of his four horses, he’d also had to go in search of another.
But when they opened the front door, the unmarked, black coach was ready and waiting to depart. As luck would have it, Quinn had managed to procure another black stallion, so the team didn’t look any different than before, even if the new one was slightly restless.
Cosette remembered the day she had nearly been run down on the streets of London that fateful night. It seemed like a lifetime ago that Davien had stepped down from this coach with that silver headed cane, taking on the appearance of Lucifer himself. Now, here she was, willingly stepping into that very carriage, while her lover was that same dark prince.
She looked at him and realized that no matter what happened from this point on, she would never regret a single moment of their time together.
He seemed to read her thoughts, for he winked at her and took to the skies in the form of the crow.
~ ~ ~
The double caw that Davien sounded overhead was the signal that they’d been waiting for. After riding in the carriage in nervous agitation for the better part of three hours, at least on Cosette’s part for Charlotte appeared as carefree and composed as ever, they were finally nearing the gypsy camp.
The coach came to a stop as Quinn slowed the horses. Cosette felt the coach list slightly to one side as he jumped down from the driver’s seat. She listened as he unhitched the rogue horse, and led it off into a nearby cover of trees. He would be needed when it was time to return to Shadowlawn, hopefully with the tablet in tow, but for now, he had to remain out of sight. One false move and their carefully laid plans would turn to dust.
Cosette clasped her hands in her lap and tapped her thumbs together. A bead of nervous perspiration rolled down her back, and irritated her healing whip marks. Thank God it was still mid-February. If it was summer, she would likely roast like a chestnut. “How long do we need to sit here again?”
“Just long enough fer th’ gypsies t’ know we’re here.”
“And then?” Cosette asked.
Charlotte shrugged. “They’ll find us. We certainly canna go lookin’ fer them, or they’ll know fer sure it’s a trap.”
Cosette nodded. Just that slight reassurance was enough to appease the butterflies in her stomach.
Even so, it felt like an eternity before the approaching sound of hoof beats reached their ears. “It’s show time,” Charlotte said, as a trio of three men reined in their mounts outside the coach.
“Have you run into trouble,doamnelor?” one of them asked. He was a pleasing young man with shaggy hair and an open smile. He didn’t fit the description that Davien had painted of Vano.
“Aye,” Charlotte returned. “My mistress an’ I were headin’ t’ visit m’lady’s aunt when one o’ our horses threw a shoe. Our coachman went t’ get it fixed, but he hasn’t yet returned. I fear fer our safety.” She sniffed, holding a handkerchief to her eyes for true, lady in distress effect. Cosette could only applaud her performance.
“What’s your name,frumoasa?” the second man asked, peering forward slightly in order to get a better look at them.
Charlotte shot her an amused peek from the corner of her handkerchief. “It’s Aine.” She nodded at Cosette. “This is my mistress, Lady Adelaide.”
“Aine?” the first man replied with a hint of skepticism. “Isn’t that the Irish goddess of love? You sound like you’re from the Highlands.”
“My mother was Irish, but my father was Scottish. I was raised in th’ Highlands, so I suppose I adopted some o’ their mannerisms.” She fluttered her lashes for good measure. “I just dinna know what we’re goin’ t’ do out here all alone an’ defenseless like we are!”
It was all Cosette could do not to laugh, but two of the gypsies seemed to readily take the bait. But it was the third occupant that held up a hand. That’s when she knew that this was Vano, and his word was law. This is when the true test would come.
“Your mistress isenglez, is she not?”
