“Of course,” he replied.
“I understand why these men choose to participate in this mission,” she said, nodding out towards the camp. “They are very loyal to your father, and he is paying them well. But you have a title in your home. You could be sitting in a bathtub full of cherries with willing maids tending your every desire.”
He leaned towards her with a smirk, throwing a gentle shoulder at her side, “How do you think I spent my summer?”
She turned sharply to him.
Philippe laughed and looked at her incredulously. “Do you really think so little of me?”
She felt herself blush, embarrassed he had gotten her with his teasing. “No. I just,” she stammered. “I wondered why…”
“I am privileged, I know,” he said, turning serious. “But it is my duty.” He shifted his weight. “And there are few men I would trust to protect our people in my stead.”
Alex looked down at her hands. It would be so much easier if she could just hate him.
Philippe took a few bites of his soup. Alex sat in silence, not knowing what to say. But then he spoke.
“Do you remember the competition? Years ago?” he prodded.
“Thecompetition?” she choked, surprised at the turn in conversation. “The one I was in?”
He nodded. “You know I lost, right?AfterI came to,” he said. “Didn’t even make it through my second fight.” He shook his head with a chuckle. Then he glanced towards her, his eyes a little more serious. “You shook me up pretty bad.”
A rush of guilt and regret ran through her as she looked at him. There was a lot she could say, that sheshouldsay. But in the end, all she could get out was, “Good.” A grin now touched her lips as she realized, somehow, they had lightened the past. Just a bit.
He laughed, a loud, sudden sound. “Alright, alright, fair enough,” he said, his laughter settling into a soft smile.
She couldn’t be sure, but she thought she saw a flash of affection shine across his face, but she chose to ignore it. It would do her no good to start thinking those thoughts again, especially just as they were beginning to get along. Alex rose and dusted off her pants. “Now, if it does not offend, My Lord, I should like to take my leave to rest.”
“It does not offend, but if you don’t start calling me Philippe, I could still have you sentenced for insubordination.”
She smiled to herself, feeling warmth and contentment from his attention. “Philippe,” she conceded. She owed him that much. “Bonne Nuit.”
With that she walked to her bedroll, checked her supplies and weapons, and tied one last branch near her position. She noticed Philippe giving her a perplexed look as she did. She then laid down and folded her arms across her chest. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to bring on sleep, but more importantly, trying to banish the thoughts of the man who she had left sitting on that log, not more than ten feet away, as the rest of the men continued to sing about the lady from Lyon around her.
Chapter Twelve
Over the next week, they traveled northward, back and forth, in what seemed to be the pattern of the marauders. Philippe was pushing them at a quick clip now, and for the last two nights, he moved them through the towns just long enough to investigate, then marched them well into the night before allowing everyone to settle down to camp. He was impatient. Ponce was their final destination and only a two-day hard ride from Chevalerie, but their journey was lengthened by the need to visit each victimized town on the way up there. He was finding that there was no great difference, however, or any good clues anywhere they stopped. The story had been the same in each town: farms had been attacked just outside town walls, destroying an innocent family’s livelihood in the process. Hoofprints and tracks indicated they were the same attackers, though witnesses always reported seeing fewer than there actually were. It seemed as though whoever was doing this was trying to make it look like they had fewer resources than they did.
Loss of property was not the only way the towns were affected. He saw it in their eyes, though they tried to put on a brave face when he questioned them. The lords, magistrates, and other town leaders were fearful. They couldn’t protect their people from these unknown attackers, and they had not yet gotten relief from the Duke. Provence was a region of honored andindependent lords, each fiercely protective of their territory, and though they worked well together under the Duke, very few would admit distress. The charred frames of former homes at the edges of their towns spoke loudly: the region was under attack. No one knew who would be struck next.
In the last town they visited, a little hub that caught the traffic between Lyon, Geneva, and Chevalerie, the scene had been the most jarring. This farmhouse was still smoldering, having just been attacked the night before. The townsmen had been fast with water. They saved the barn and the back of the main house, but the family was missing their youngest son. It was Laurent who had found him. Philippe’s party had entered a smoke-soaked bedroom, and as Laurent kicked the bed in disgust, the blackened body of a child tumbled onto the floor. Philippe heard the men gag behind him, his own stomach heaving with revulsion.
Helplessness and rage pulsed through him as he had to inform the huddled family that the child had not escaped. He bowed his head, knowing this was his fault. The family would never be whole again because he was too slow to unravel the puzzle. It consumed him. He was used to fighting men he could identify and overthrow either with his own sword or with the army behind him. This game of chase in which he was engaged was almost too much, and it was all he could do to hold back and move thoughtfully through the countryside. He wanted to charge, to attack. But he restrained himself, lest he cause the rebels to disperse prematurely. Gathering intelligence was for his oldest brother or his father. Philippe was a man of action and wanted his victory before anyone else was harmed.
There was a bright spot in this mission for Philippe, despite his frustration. That funny little creature was still at the back of his procession, quiet and reserved, setting traps wherever they stopped. His distance seemed to be what she wanted, and it was the only way he could think to make amends for his embarrassing behavior in Chevalerie. From afar, though, he couldn’t deny that she made him smile. Every so often he’d catch her eye and think for a moment that she’d softened towards him, and he’d feel elation well up in his chest. But then she would turn away, uninterested, leaving him unsettled and confused. Why did he respond so foolishly towards her? He wanted her to like him; that was true. He wanted to prove that he was not such a bad guy. He sensed that it would take time, but even that upsethim. What if they completed this mission, and she went on disliking him? Philippe lived a life of assuredness and absolutes. There were too many unanswered questions in his brain at the moment. Simply put, he was going nuts.
He had ridden his horse away from his men, through a low woodland area filled with waxy jasmine shrubs and violet harebells hanging from their stalks. He needed to clear his mind of any thoughts of the little fox and rethink his plan. He hadn’t thought they would get so far with no hard evidence. He didn’t know from where the rebels originated. He didn’t know from whom they took orders. All he knew was that their numbers were small, and their hearts seemed cold.
His mind was going in circles. What had they missed? Someone had to have seen something beyond shadowy figures in the night. These were men, not spirits, escaping through the trees. In the distance, he spotted a small farmhouse with a curl of smoke rising out of the chimney. It was far out of town, and though it would be an easy target, Philippe guessed it might have been spared just because it would not have been noticed. Still, something in his gut told him to knock on the door and see if the owner had anything interesting to tell him.
Chapter Thirteen
The party had been moving at a steady pace through a shaded area and into the late morning sun. Their next destination, a small town in a stretch of flatlands, was still a half day away, and Alex was passing the time by daydreaming about a good meal and a comfortable bed. The mood of the party had changed from adventuresome to dreary. The men were disheartened by the lack of progress and the grisly scenes they had discovered, not to mention the aggressive pace of their leader. It seemed that the initial comforts of their travel party were already wearing thin, and everyone’s hopes for a quick and easy payday had been dashed. The men needed to drink. And they needed women.
Staying in town that night would be a welcome rest for them all, including Alex. She’d come to expect a room all to herself when they were at an inn, and she was eager to eat something hot in the tavern. Then she thought that tonight might be the night Philippe would take a woman, and it soured her fantasizing. She knew it was coming, but still, after several nights in different taverns, he always went to bed alone. He’d hang around just until she went to her room each night. She hadn’t figured out his intentions, but sooner or later, the tolls of the mission would push him into bed with someone. Despite her resolve not to be affected by it, she knew it was going to upset her when it happened.
At the moment, the group was stretched out over a long road. She did not see Philippe at the front, but he often left the procession to scout. The warm sun made her feel lazy, and she let her body sway to the steps of her horse. Suddenly, thethump-thump-thumpof horse gallop brought her around. Philippe was cutting across the valley, coming right at her. She adjusted her posture, waiting to be addressed.
