“Go ahead, scold away if it will make you happy,” he invited. “I promise you, I will be suitably crushed.”
She arched her brows skeptically. “Crushed enough to stop the curricle and let me return to the chaise?”
“No, not that crushed. Unfortunately I am quite resilient to scolds. Blame my military experience: people give thundering good scolds in the army. They quite ruined my ability to be crushed.”
“I doubt you were ever particularly crushable.”
He grinned at her. “See? I knew you would have liked Great-aunt Gert. She would have agreed with you there. Mind you, she gave the best scolds in the world and came quite close to crushing me once or twice.”
She laughed again.
“There, that’s better,” he said. “You climbed out of that chaise before looking so wan and dejected I was worried you were ill. But a good feed, some fresh air, and a little badinage has done you the world of good. The roses are blooming in your cheeks again. And see, Miss Tibby is doing the same.”
They both looked to where Tibby sat up on the driver’s seat next to Ethan. Gabe hoped Ethan knew what he was doing, fostering such an acquaintance. Ethan must have suggested the seating arrangement to Miss Tibby: a lady like Tibby would never have thought of riding up with the driver.
Gabe frowned. It was unlike Ethan to have much to do with respectable ladies. Socially, the two were poles apart.
Ethan had a certain rough charm, he knew. The ladies of Spain and Portugal had certainly appreciated him. But that was in wartime, and war made people act in ways they would not otherwise countenance.
Things were different now. He hoped Ethan remembered it.
They came to a clearing and he instantly reined in the horses. “Look,” he said, pointing to where a small herd of deer grazed on the sweet grass by the forest’s edge. As they watched the deer melted away into the trees.
“I expect they think we’ll shoot at them,” she said.
“I’m not really a cold-blooded killer,” he said quietly.
She gave him a surprised look. “I didn’t mean—”
“Not the deer; the other morning, with the count. You’ve hardly been able to look at me since.”
Callie looked away, distressed. He thought she despised him for doing what he had done. He was so wrong. It was quite the contrary.
He went on, “Once a man starts burning women’s houses and trying to murder children, he must be stopped. I would prefer the law to do it, I admit, but if it came to the crunch I would have no hesitation in killing him. And it would not bother me in the least.” He paused and looked at her. “But I would never hurt you or Nicky, or any woman or child.”
“Do you think I don’t know that? Of course I know you wouldn’t hurt us. You’ve been nothing but kind.” If just one person in Zindaria had listened to her, believed her, as he had…but they hadn’t. She’d had to travel across a continent and sail across the English Channel to find him, this one man who believed her, and without hesitation had declared himself her champion.
Sir Galahad indeed.
But how could she tell him that, and not reveal what was in her heart? What she thought might be in her heart, if only she dared to look. She didn’t dare, she couldn’t. She couldn’t go through it all again.
He’d said it himself—he would protectanywoman,anychild. That is what a Galahad did.
“I’m sorry, I wasn’t deliberately avoiding you,” she lied. “It’s just that I’ve had a lot on my mind.”
“I know.” He took her hand in his and squeezed it. “I was just worried that my actions that morning had given you a disgust of me.”
“A disgust?” she exclaimed. “No, I thought you were a hero!”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” he said. “Just as long as you’re not frightened of me.”
It depended what the definition of being frightened was, she thought.
That morning had changed her life. Standing up to Count Anton had given her a small piece of pride back. She’d done something she’d never done before; she’d behaved like a ruling princess. And people had believed her. Even Count Anton had believed her.
It was a powerful thought.
And when Gabriel said he would kill Count Anton for her, he’d offered her the most powerful choice of all: the power of life and death. To protect her son.
