“Drink it,” he commanded, titling the cup to wet her lips.
Alex grumbled but followed orders, taking a few gulps before she shut her mouth and refused any more.
“You are a terrible drunk,” he chuckled.
She sank into the cushions and curled up into a ball. “I don’t feel good,” she whimpered.
“I know you don’t,” he replied. He sat next to her on the bed and again dipped the rag into the basin of water. He wrung it out and dabbed her forehead and neck, running his thumb along her cheek and the edge of her lips. He smiled to himself—she was certainly the prettiest drunk he’d ever cared for.
He left the rag on her forehead for a moment. As he was still waiting for pants, he decided to strip down to his undergarments and set the dirty pair outside of the room to be cleaned. He’d already decided that he would stay with her, as he would do for any of his men. Of course, the fact that it was Alex made the situation a little more delicate, but he hoped the closeness they had shared tonight would afford him her trust. He’d been agentleman with her, mostly, and she was in no danger with him. Really, he’d take any excuse not to leave her side. He had realized he was in love with her, and everything had become clear. His lack of finesse around her, his inability to let her out of his sight, his uncharacteristically muddled head. The feeling had been growing inside him until it was a raging force and affecting everything he did. Even his more careful and prolonged pursuit of Giroux had gone painstakingly slow in part because he wanted to keep her safe and spend as much time near her as possible.
What a moron he was to not have realized sooner, but he’d never experienced anything like this before. His interest in women had always been… different, less complicated. To think, had he taken her the moment she entered Chevalerie like he had wanted, he would have missed all the enchanting moments between them, the ones, he realized, that had forged his feelings and, he hoped, hers as well. He didn’t know what she would say to him when she woke up. Perhaps she would slip into his arms. Perhaps she would hate him again. No matter, because now that he had it figured out, he would chase her for a lifetime if he had to.
He watched her as she slept, more peacefully now, feeling warmth in his heart. He shook his head and chuckled to himself, the events of the evening having taken so many strange turns. He pulled a blanket over her and lay next to her on the outside of it. He rested his head on the pillow and crossed his arms across his chest. He closed his eyes and a satisfied smile worked its way onto his lips before he drifted off to sleep. He hadn’t felt this content in a very long time.
He was unsure how long he had been asleep when a loud crash snapped him awake. He was disoriented at first and, looking to see that Alex hadn’t stirred, he wondered if he had imagined it. The commotion outside the door told him otherwise. He jumped out of bed, threw on his jacket, and realized he was still in his stockings. There was no time to find pants now, so he buckled his sword belt and ran down the hall to investigate.
Out in the parlor, the innkeeper stood by the door with his candle, unsure of whether or not to open it in a repeat of last night’s performance. Several civilian guests had poked their heads in, looking to see what hadhappened. Thankfully, Philippe saw Laurent, Claude, and Franc with their swords at the ready, and he heard the rest of his men coming down the hall.
“What has happened?” called Philippe.
“Something hit the door,Monsieur,” said the innkeeper, “but we see no travelers from the windows.”
Philippe drew his sword. “Let’s see what it is this time,” he said.
The innkeeper obliged, sliding the long plank of wood that barricaded the door to the side and jumping back into the shadows as the door creaked open. Philippe and his men held their positions, but nothing came through the door. Philippe hadn’t expected communication until the morning. He felt deep in his bones that whatever message he was being given, would not be a good one. Philippe crept out into the darkness, but unlike last night, as soon as his vision adjusted to the dark, he saw something in the dirt, just a few yards away. His eyes couldn’t make it out. His spirit, however, knew it was ominous and his stomach lurched in anticipation. He moved closer, cautious of the darkness, the feeling of foreboding as thick as blood. He was nearly upon the object before he understood what he was looking at.
He kneeled down and bowed his head at the ghastly scene. Then he reached out and closed the dead eyes of his fallen comrade.
“What is it?” he heard Laurent ask behind him.
Philippe continued to stare a moment, unsure of what to say, but very sure of the blazing anger pulsing in his chest. His men crept up behind him, and he heard the silence change as they too realized just what they were looking at.
He took off his jacket and covered the blood-caked mass. He tucked the sides under, feeling overwhelming remorse. He had let this happen. Maurice had died because he had misjudged the situation.
Out in the distance came a cry. Philippe looked to the sound as Laurent and Franc whizzed by him. There, in the field that bordered the inn was a shadowed figure, stumbling into view.
“It’s Auguste!” Laurent shouted.
Philippe could see Auguste’s hands had been bound as Laurent and Franc cut the ties. They helped the man to his feet and walked him to the rest of the group.
“Get some water! And a blanket!” Philippe rose and called out. “Does anyone have any booze?”
Bernard stepped forward and handed Auguste a small flask. “Here, brandy, here ya go,” he muttered.
“Philippe,” Auguste said, panting and out of breath, before gulping at the flask. He was scraped and cut about the face and his breeches had been torn in several places, but he was standing. “They ambushed us.”
Philippe grasped his man’s shoulder. “Do you need to sit?”
“No.”
“What happened?” Philippe asked.
“They pulled us into their camp. There weren’t very many. Eight, nine. Giroux was there. And there was another man. He was cloaked. He was the one in charge.”
“Did you get a look at him?”
He shook his head.
