Page 65 of A Bluestocking’s Secret Courtship

He pressed his lips together, and she thought he might not respond. “I was taught after.”

“By who?”

He walked past her with the donkey. “There’s a reason your uncle wanted you to know how to defend yourself, Evangeline. Always watch your back, even in small villages.”

His warning hit her square in the chest. She had always believed Uncle Charles’s lessons were meant to ease Regina’s worries—not that she might need Wing Chun to protect herself in the field.

Her life’s work lost some of its glimmer.

“Are you injured?” she asked.

He stopped and turned back toward her. “No.” His stern frown faded, his voice gentling. “We should keep going before we lose daylight.”

Something in his expression had changed; his eyes were softer, hazy like he was somewhere else.

Her heart twinged. She stepped closer, reaching for his hand. “I’m here,” she murmured.

A shadow passed over his face, but it disappeared in a blink. He squeezed her hand and released it.

“Come,” he said, his voice huskier than before. “Let's find that campsite.”

Twenty-four

As twilight descended over the campsite, Jonathan built a small pyramid of twigs and dried grass in a ring of rocks. A few strikes of the flint ignited a flame.

“I found more,” Evangeline said, emerging from the olive grove with a load of firewood hugged to her chest.

“Splendid work.” He blew gently across the flame, coaxing until it flickered, spreading higher, growing brighter. “Perfect timing, too.”

He hopped up to relieve her of the burden. Sweat glistened on her face, and her hair was a darker shade at her hairline.

“What should I do next?” she asked, slightly winded.

“Sit for a while. You have been on your feet all day.”

“So have you.” Her jawline firmed, her eyes burning with defiance. “We should set up camp before it’s too dark. I’ll work on our shelter.”

“We need water.” He nodded toward the small pot he had packed.

He didn’t explain about needing to boil it. She wouldn’t appreciate it and probably already knew as much as he did about setting up a campsite. She snatched the pot and headed toward the stream with Mount Parnitha slumbering like a beast in the distance. Willpower and determination fueled her now, but he had noticed her gait growing wearier throughout the day.

Their journey was far from over. Tomorrow they would reach the base of the mountain. The terrain would grow steep and rocky, the climb arduous even for him.

What if they encountered more thieves? Beads of sweat broke across his forehead. Or worse, men like him?

This is a mistake. His heart thumped against his ribs, creating a loud rushing sound in his ears.

Then there was the Black Death.

He had heard tales in the field and received coded messages about their activities from the Consul. How they had played a role in Spain rising up against Joseph Bonaparte. About their deadly methods and unparalleled stealth.

Sweat dripped into his eyes. He swiped it away.

He never should have brought her. If she was harmed— His chest was too tight to breathe. He clawed at his shirt, ripping it over his head.

“Jonathan?”

He startled.