Page 67 of Triumph at Pemberley

Calm. She needed to be calm. “I know precisely one person in this country. I do not speak the language. Everything is unknown to me. And you are denying me even a single servant, and one who is clearly no threat at that. Would you allow your own sister to walk into such a situation?”

“I…no, I would not. If we were not under attack, it would be different. We cannot take any risks with unknown people now.”

“I understand, but I can vouch for him,” she said decisively. “I am your wife, not one of your soldiers. If Sutton cannot come in, I will stay here, outside your wards. I imagine there is some sort of habitation nearby hidden by your impressive illusions.”

“I cannot defend you here,” he said helplessly.

Sutton snorted. “As if ’er ladyship can’t defend ’erself. She stopped a charge of Frenchies, all by ’erself.”

Roderick’s eyes swung to Sutton and then back to her. “You were in battle?” He sounded horrified.

“Someone had to support Jack,” she huffed. “Which is it – do you let me in to help you or leave me out here?”

His shoulders sagged, and suddenly he looked like the man she had fallen in love with again, rather than the warrior prince. “Come with me, then. But if my father says your man must go, I cannot gainsay him. Not when our survival is at stake.”

“Very well.” What else could she do? There were no easy answers, either for her or Quickthorn. She turned back to the carriage and her waiting servants to break the news she was sending them back to England.

Chapter 27

Standing on the other side of the river, Frederica rubbed her chilled hands together. From this side she could see the narrow bridge Roderick had driven her across. He was speaking with his two men – and laughing.

When he returned to her side, she asked, “What was so humorous?” How she hated being laughed at! It had happened all too often in the ton, which was why she had been glad to leave London. She had hoped not to encounter it here.

His lips curved in a wicked smile. “I apologized for losing control of the land. Gwyn said if my pretty new wife could not make me lose control, something would be wrong.”

Well. It could have been much worse. “Which way to your village?”

He pointed upstream, but his mouth twisted. “We are not going there, though. I must present you to my father first, and unfortunately, he is across the mountains. It is a long trip, especially since the main road is blocked by the dragon defenses. We must take a smaller, more difficult one.”

Not a happy surprise, after her long days of travel. “So we are going to the battlefront? How much fighting has there been?” It could hardly be worse than what she had seen with Jack.

“We will stop short of it, I hope. There have been some skirmishes, and two villages have been bombarded. Landing parties in search of the Nest. My father has managed to fight them off so far, but he has sent all the dragons away from the shore for their own safety.”

And now Quickthorn would be at risk, too. “And you? Have you been facing the enemy, too?”

His mouth twisted bitterly. “My father will not permit it now that I am a dragon companion. He took my brothers with him and left me in charge of setting up defenses.” He was clearly displeased with the choice.

Frederica tilted her head. Being a companion had not stopped her or Jack from taking part in battle, but this was not the moment to challenge Roderick’s assumptions. Especially as she had no desire to see him risk his life.

“Will you be able to ride?” Roderick asked. “The mountain road is steep and narrow. A carriage will not make it.”

“Of course I can ride,” she said stoutly. She had said she was here to help, and that meant not being a burden. “How far is it?”

“As the crow flies, perhaps twenty-five miles, but the road is rough. We will likely have to spend the night on the way.” He hesitated. “Have you ever ridden astride? Sidesaddles are rare here.”

“I have three brothers, all of whom love to race. Of course I can ride astride.” At least if she managed to find the split skirt the modiste had reluctantly made for her, which was likely at the bottom of her trunk. It was not designed for horses, but for those rare occasions when she was atop Quickthorn. There were no sidesaddles for dragons, either.

A quick smile flashed across his face. “Good girl. Gwyn will take your trunk to the village, but first could you pick out what you will need for the next few days? No more than will fit in a pair of saddlebags, if possible.”

He said it as if there were nothing unusual about the request, as if she had ever packed or unpacked a trunk on her own or had the least idea what would fit in a saddlebag. Servants had always taken care of such things for her. Even when she had traveled in disguise to London, a maid at the inn had handled it.

But if the women of Gwynedd could manage it, so could she. How hard could it be? “Of course. I will need a few minutes.”It was substantially longer than that before she managed to shut the formerly neatly packed trunk, but she did it. Eventually. Her mother would die if she could see her now, changing her clothes behind a dense bush. Or she would applaud. One of the two.

Roderick brought her the wiry roan mare Gwyn had been riding and helped her mount. One of the other men joined them, riding ahead with Sutton bringing up the rear. Not that a one-armed man could offer much resistance, but it was still comforting. The Welshman in front was armed with pistols and a sword, so presumably he was a guard. Was Roderick not safe on his own roads, or was it because of her presence?

They headed south between a high ridge and the river. Whatever Roderick had said, the road seemed acceptable, if bumpy. At least they were together again, though, even if they could not converse easily as they trotted along.

After a mile or two, Roderick raised his hand and slowed to a walk. He pulled his horse close to Frederica’s. “We will be passing near the Faerie Glen soon. It is wise to be careful here if you wish to avoid fae trickery. Do not speak to strangers or trust anything one of us says unless you see our lips move at the same time; they are masters at mimicking voices.”