“You tell your leader,” he said, brushing the black ash off his broken skin. “He will accept my offer or face the Duke’s entire army. Not to mention these brutes behind me.” His voice was steady, his tone was more than clear. “And if your benefactor comes near her or hurts her, I will take pleasure in ripping out his throat myself.”
Giroux remained silent for a moment. Finally, he held up his hands. “I’m sorry, My Lord. I did not mean to offend.”
“Bring our message to your captain,” Philippe said, flipping back to the French they all understood. “We shall await his reply in Ponce.” He stood upand folded his arms, indicating he was done with the conversation, the angry red wound visible on his hand.
Giroux nodded and took the cue. “Aurevoir,” he said. “I will send word.” Not a moment later, they retreated into the darkness.
Philippe’s remaining men held their positions. “Well,” Philippe said after a moment. “We have survived our first encounter with these rebels, and they have survived their first encounter with us. I dare say they are far more lucky.” A chuckle rippled through the men, and they were set at ease once more. They stretched and passed a congratulatory drink and began to prepare to leave. Everything had returned to normal just like that. The venomous threat in Philippe’s countenance was gone. Alex blinked, wondering if the exchange she’d witnessed had been real.
Head still spinning, she rose to prepare her own horse, but the world seemed to trip, and she landed flat on her bottom. Everyone turned to her, and Philippe jumped to her side. “I can’t stand,” she said, looking ruefully up to him.
“You really should never drink,” he said, a note of humor in his voice.
“I know.” She frowned.
He directed the crew to go up ahead. “Check for any signs of danger,” he said. “And be sure to clear the path for us. I’ll wait with her until she can ride.”
He led her closer to the fire then helped the men prepare to leave. She watched him, her heart throbbing with gratitude. They were to be alone, she realized, and the tingle that went through her left her gasping. As a lover or a fighter, he was even more dangerous than she had ever realized, and the thought made her thirst for him even harder.
Screw it, she thought. She’d blow up her life to be with him.
Chapter Twenty
Philippe finished preparing the horses and said goodbye to the last of his men. He turned to check on Alex and caught her eye. For a moment, he was taken aback by her stare. If he didn’t know that she was drunk, he would have thought her look meant something very different.
He threw a final pack to Claude and smacked the back of his horse, then watched her for a moment. Alex sat on her bottom with her legs straight out in front of her staring back at him. Perhaps the firelight was tricking him into thinking he knew the look she was giving him, but he also knew better than to trust himself when it came to her.
The fire needed tending, so he stepped out to gather more wood. His eyes adjusted as he sorted through usable pieces littered near the water’s edge. He had mixed feelings about the meeting. Instinct told him that Giroux could be an ally. The man’s honor was apparent, but he was being manipulated by his leader. Philippe could tell that this situation went deeper than a mere stipend for the river villages, but did Giroux know? He could have taken Giroux and his grunts as prisoners. It would stop the raids and that was the goal, right? But with the leader still at large, the problem would not be solved. Philippe was trying to stay thoughtful and calm—sometimesthrough gritted teeth—and he felt like every aspect of his person was being tested on that front.
He felt he had handled the encounter with competence and honor. Then, Giroux had expressed desire to take Alex, and everything they had worked up to crumbled like a dam in a storm. In that moment, he knew that if he had moved, it would have been to attack Giroux. There would be no thought of justice or fairness, only maddening rage. The thing was, it wasn’t that outlandish of a request. Giroux’s leader may have thought the very reason they had brought Alex was as some kind of marriage treaty. Why else would they be dragging along this woman? Philippe had been frozen, not knowing how to proceed. Then he had felt the men gear up behind him, ready at his word to fight, and he was proud to have such strong fighters with him. For a second, all he could think was that this civil meeting was about to become an absolute slaughter, honor be damned.
But the fire had saved him and, perhaps, the entire mission. He’d ground the smoldering ember into his skin and the piercing pain refocused him. Giroux did not know how lucky he had been.
Philippe put his foot on a log and ripped a branch with a greatcrack. The force pulled at his charred skin, and he shook the pain from his hand once more. He took up a few more pieces of wood and returned to the fire. Alex stared at him intently, and he smiled at her. She was really funny when she was drunk, just a giant pair of eyes and absolutely no balance. He felt guilty for encouraging her to take the canteen, but he had never expected her to be so easily afflicted. He sat down next to her and added pieces of wood to the fire, stick by stick.
“So,” he said, his voice soft. “We have begun our dialogue with the rebels.” Though he did not look at her, he was acutely aware of her body and her movements next to him. She had bent her knees and was moving her hands up and down the length of her thighs, over those tight pants that he still couldn’t get over. She was drunk. Very drunk, he reminded himself. He knew she was only acting like this because of the drink, but,wow, he couldn’t imagine anyone more seductive.
“I’m cold,” she pouted.
“I will put more wood on the fire.”
“I don’t need that,” she breathed, while she strummed her fingers downhis arm.
Now he turned to her, and they locked eyes. Her face was flushed and beautiful and before he knew it, he had reached out to tuck a piece of wild hair behind her ear. He scolded himself, but instead of her pulling away, she leaned into his hand. She closed her eyes, and he brushed his thumb against her cheek, warm from the fire. She looked at him again, and he understood everything. Alex wanted to get into trouble.
He cleared his throat and pulled back his hand. He poked again at the fire, thinking he may have to shove his whole hand into the center to clear his head this time. He would only stay here with her long enough to get her to stand, he thought with resolve. He wasn’t going to do anything tonight that she wouldn’t forgive him for tomorrow.
Alex wasn’t making it that easy though. She slid the remaining few inches over to him, pulled up her knees, and rested against his side. “Do you remember the first time we sat near a river alone?”
“I do,” he said, thinking of her lips, forever etched into his memories. “That was many years ago.”
“It was the night before the competition,” she said, still pressed against him.
“I remember,” he smiled, still staring ahead into the flames. Her body against his was a timid invitation, but his own body was stiff with trepidation, afraid too much contact would be his undoing.
“The night before Ialmostbeat you in the competition,” she teased.
“You cheated, little fox.” He leaned back to look at her and drank her in. Her thick hair flowed over her shoulders and down her tunic. A string tied at the top and crisscrossed down the center, the edge of her shirt tucked below the belt of her pants. He imagined what it would feel like to slip the silk off her skin.
