Page 76 of A Bluestocking’s Secret Courtship

Evangeline was led into the tent first, while two soldiers with short swords stepped in front of him.

“No!”

Men pounced on him—one from behind and one on each side. He struggled to break free, but they were too strong.

The hunting party leader must have followed because he filled Jonathan’s vision. “Wife safe,” he said. “You wait.”

Sweat dripped down Jonathan’s forehead; his breathing was ragged.

“Wife safe,” the man repeated and clapped a strong hand on Jonathan’s shoulder. “She meet Khevan-resh wife. This the way.”

Jonathan held his gaze. When he nodded that he understood, the man spoke to the guards, and they released him.

“What is your name?” Jonathan asked.

“Menar.”

Jonathan’s eyes teared up, and he swiped them away with his fist. “Th-thank you, Menar.”

“I have wife. I love too.”

Jonathan waited as ordered, and no one laid another hand on him. When the tent flaps opened, the guards stepped aside.

“You go now,” Menar said.

Jonathan blinked to focus as he entered the shady tent.

Evangeline was seated on a plush pillow across a table from a distinguished older woman with graying hair and a flawless complexion. The woman turned toward him.

“Come, drummer. Join us for a coffee. Your wife has been telling me how talented you are. I hope you will grace us with a performance this evening.”

Her English was impeccable. What else did she speak? French? Spanish? Greek? Clearly, she was well educated, much like her husband must be. Negotiating in different languages would be vital to the mercenary life.

“A celebratory feast is being prepared,” Nekara said.

Celebratory?

Evangeline smiled at him. “It’s the Semkari's Festival of Fire. This is why they brought us here. Uncle Charles is resting nearby.”

He glanced around the tent, noting Evangeline’s discarded boots at the entrance. He removed his and walked across richly dyed carpets in red and yellow to join them at the low table. The patterns reminded him of a kaleidoscope—very fitting given the many facets to the Semkari.

“May I present my husband, First Matron?” Evangeline asked.

“It is Nekara, and please introduce us.”

As Evangeline made the introductions, the regal woman’s assessing gaze slid over him. “You have the build of a fighter.”

He flinched. “Me?”

“You are lean and strong.”

“It’s mostly from dancing,” Evangeline said. “Do you enjoy dance, Nekara?”

The woman blinked several times and redirected her attention. “I am a spectator by nature. I look forward to this evening’s performance.”

When one of the men entered the tent, Nekara met his gaze, and he inclined his head. “Your quarters are ready, Mrs. Hackberry,” she said.

Jonathan stood, offering Evangeline a hand up. He held on even after she had gained her balance. Nekara’s sharp gaze softened. “How long have you been married?”