Coaches were being stopped at the gates so that their occupants could disembark, and then turned around to head back over the bridge to wait in the square until the end of the banquet.
While the soldiers were distracted by the carriage in front of them, Tristan hopped down and then lifted Nim down beside him. He could feel how tightly she was holding herself, and he felt a flood of pride at her resilience. The way she never gave up. Her deep loyalty to her family.
Mathos gave him a nod and then he and Reece spun the coach around before the guards could get a good look at them and clattered away over the bridge.
They were alone.
Tristan reached down and pulled Nim’s cloak together to button it under her chin, covering her as much as possible until they were inside.
The gap left by their coach was quickly filled by a massively ornate carriage covered in scrollwork and gold leaf, and he paced their walk slow enough that they were quickly caught up by a loud party of older men and one heavy dowager.
Nim understood immediately and dropped a deep curtsey to the older woman before complimenting her effusively on her glittering peacock-styled green, blue, pink, and gold shawl.
Tristan thought it was hideous, but the woman was soon engaged in a long discussion of feathers and her favorite colors and was still talking loudly when they reached the soldiers.
These guards were far more vigilant, looking for weapons, rechecking invitations, and asking questions. Tristan stepped up close behind Nim, leaving his collar turned up and his face angled away from the torches.
“So then the downstairs maids had to wash all the feathers again!”
He had missed the rest of the story, but Nim laughed and patted the older woman’s hand encouragingly, and they took another step forward, bringing them right in front of a pair of lieutenants.
Men he recognized. He didn’t know them well, but he knew their faces. And they would know his.
He dipped his chin, keeping his cheek against Nim’s hair, hoping he looked like a stupidly besotted husband as she handed over the invitations.
The soldier glanced at them and passed them back, casting a cynical eye over the party. And then stopping at Tristan. “Step back, please.”
Tristan stepped to the side and held his hands out, willfully misunderstanding, and turned around slowly, showing that he had no weapons on him while keeping his face turned away.
“Face this way and step into the light.”
Tristan took a breath and began to turn, but Nim, acting as if the soldier was talking to her, immediately stepped between them and turned into the light.
“Like this, sir?” she asked in the sweetest, most girlish voice he’d ever heard her use.
“No. I want to see—”
“I’m so sorry. Of course you need to check me for weapons too.” Nim dropped her cloak onto her arms and rolled her shoulders back, and the soldier immediately dropped his gaze to her cleavage.
“I don’t have anything dangerous on me, I promise, sir.” Nim giggled and then shrugged, making the smooth tops of her breasts rise invitingly as every single soldier’s gaze fastened on her.
Shit. Didn’t she know that they might have sketches of her? Anyone could recognize her. She was in infinitely more danger than he was, and she had just drawn everyone’s attention.
It made perfect sense that he should throttle every single one of the men looking at her. To keep her out of danger. Obviously.
His fingers twitched as he held himself back. But his beast let out a long, rattling growl.
They were going to be having a long conversation about who handled danger in the future. But first, he had to get her through the gate. Tristan had no problem with playing the disgruntled husband. He snatched the invitations back and grabbed her hand, pulling her away. “Come along now. We’re late.”
The soldiers laughed, and someone behind them called out, “You need a real man, sweet thing. Let me show you what you’re missing!” Tristan didn’t dare turn around, or he might kill every single one of them.
He was walking too fast, Nim almost running next to him, but he couldn’t stay there for one more second.
They sped down a short, open path through a large arch and into a wide cobbled courtyard before he finally slowed.
He drew her to the side, into the shadows of an archway, and paused there for a moment while he redid the button on her coat.
She leaned heavily against him, and he wrapped his arm around her shoulders, holding her against his side while he tried to think of the best way to explain that she should never. Ever. Under any circumstances. Do something like that again.
