He's No Prince Charming (Ever After) (19 page)

And then she met the scout’s gaze.

Naked fear shot through her. She had seen him only briefly, but his face was not one she would soon forget. The man was small, only an inch or two taller than she. His sandy hair gleamed in the sun. His face and body were reed thin. Perfect for fast travel. He looked the absolute soldier: purposeful, regimented, and mean.

And he held her fate in his hands.

His light gaze flared with recognition. She’d been discovered.

She ducked among a group of passing women on their way to sell their wares. She scanned the masses of people, searching for Marcus’s familiar face. She may not understand her feelings for him, but she certainly wasn’t going to leave him behind.

A shout rang out behind her, quickly followed by another. “Stop her!”

She weaved through bodies, ignoring the chaos in her wake. Danni scrambled over a counter, hoping to lose her pursuers, and crouched low among curtains of fabrics. Footsteps pounded past. With her heart in her throat, she lifted her eyes above the wooden counter, watching the scout and several others disappear into the crowd. Other soldiers began a systematic search among the stalls along the narrow fairway. She slowly crept out from under the stall, backing up to a nearby alley between two shops.

She was almost hidden in the darkness when a rough hand caught hold of her arm. Another smothered her scream. She fought viciously for freedom, lashing out wherever she could.

“Shhh. Cease your cursed squirming, little one.”

Marcus’s grumble made her go limp. She sagged against his solid frame, gaining comforting strength before he turned her around. In her relief, she realized she would always want him near her, holding her and calling her his little one. It was a disturbing thought.

The contact was over all too quickly and her fear spiraled back. “You did not have to grab me in such a way. What have I told you about manhandling me?”

His scornful gaze immediately shifted from her, his eyes narrowing on the path through the stalls. “Who were those men?”

“One of them is the scout, Marcus,” she hissed, her hands waving madly. “He recognized me.”

A snarl pulled his lips back, stretching his scars into stark relief. “Perhaps we should not have left your coachman to die by rabbit.”

She nodded, a wry smile reluctantly tugging at her lips. “You should have let me kill him. The little weasel.”

Marcus shot her a half smile. The expression was so at odds with the situation, she scowled at him. “You have quite the bloodthirsty streak in you.”

She smirked back. Now was not the time for humor. Fists tightening, she glanced around for escape. “We must leave. Now. Where are the horses?”

“Unfortunately, they are tied up right there,” he pointed to a hitching post where one of the scout’s men searched through their supplies strapped to the saddles. Danni grasped the bag containing her gown tightly, grateful to still have it in her possession.

Marcus guided them to the back of the alley, then moved in front of Danni to hide her from sight. He also blocked her view as he scanned over the heads of the crowds milling in the street. Ducking, she peered through a space at his side, trying to see if she could spot the scout. Spotting no one, they prepared to brave the thoroughfare.

“We’ll continue on foot. Let’s head for the forest. North, where the bandits’ camp is supposed to be. Perhaps we can steal both Ginny and some horses from them. There must be tracks from your carriage somewhere out there. No one has found it abandoned yet.”

She nodded in agreement. They had little choice. They moved into the open, sticking to the shadows cast by the walls. They skulked along, tension high, neither daring to speak. Marcus led them towards the woods. They would easily lose any pursuers in the dense foliage.

At the edge of the village a shout rang out. Danni ran, panicked. The scout barreled down on them, two large men in his wake. The vision of a noose about her neck flashed before her eyes, spurring her to greater speeds.

She approached the small clearing of grass between the village and the trees. It seemed to stretch and grow in length as the pursuers drew closer. Marcus caught her hand, pulling her off balance and into a stumbling gallop. She worked her short legs as fast as she could, trying to keep up with Marcus’s longer ones. He tugged harder on her hand, his voice snapping through panted breaths, “Run faster!”

“I’m trying,” she gasped back, feeling her pack slap against her thigh.

In that same moment a gun fired behind them. Danni screamed as a bullet snapped into the earth nearby. Shouts came from another direction. Apparently reinforcements had joined the chase. Another blast from a pistol rang through the air. Marcus stumbled. She grabbed hold of his hand as she surpassed him and entered the safety of the forest. They continued to run deeper and deeper into the dense green, weaving and zigzagging through bramble that seemed to come alive and grab at their feet. They didn’t stop until they reached a small moss-covered patch encircled by a haphazard row of large hedges.

Danni collapsed onto the ground, spread-eagled. She stared up at the light streaming through the netting of leaves overhead. Her feet and legs ached from exertion, her lungs were on fire, but she was alive. And free. A patch of pretty blue sky peeking through the canopy was covered by the fluffy white of a cloud. She watched it float by, breathing deeply to control her heart.

She frowned after several minutes. Marcus hadn’t spoken a single word. She sat up, saw him sitting against a thicket of hedge branches. He was hunched forward, one boot jutting out and the other bent at his side. His arms were wrapped about his waist. He was unusually still.

Remembering the shot, Danni hurried to her feet. She was at his side in an instant, trying to steady her shaking hands. He protested weakly as she peeled away his arms. Slightly above his left hip was a steadily growing patch of blood.

Y
ou’ve been shot!”

His head tilted back, his eyes opened towards the sky, sucking in his breath. “Yes, good, Miss Green.”

Exasperated, Danni hit his arm. “Take this seriously.”

“How can one not take a gunshot to his side seriously?”

She grunted. Her brows lowered. “Marcus Bradley. I am going to kill you someday.”

“Yes, well, let us ensure I am available for that first.”

Blinking back the sudden burn in her eyes, she lifted the edge of his shirt to examine the wound. She sighed with relief. Despite the large amount of blood flowing from the area, the wound did not look as bad as she’d imagined. The bullet had skimmed his side, cutting deep, but it had not lodged in his flesh.

“How is it?”

His strained voice reminded her that, even if the wound wasn’t fatal, it was still causing a good deal of pain. “You will survive. The bullet only grazed you. The slash is deep and long. It is bleeding badly.”

He grunted, pushing her hands away and replacing his shirt. He held the fabric hard to his side. “Good.” He tilted his head back again and shut his eyes. “Now leave me.”

Danni sat back on her haunches in disbelief. “Leave?”

One closed eye peeked open. “Yes.”

“Are you mad?” Her mouth dropped. “We are in the middle of the woods, in a place I have never been in my entire life. Where exactly do you propose I go?”

“Across the channel would do nicely.”

She sputtered, her anger nearly choking her. “Don’t be ridiculous!”

His face turned mutinous. “Truly, Danielle, leave me. This is your chance to escape. You can get back to the village and return home from there. Take the rest of the money to pay for a horse. If you stay here with me, you will be caught, ruining your own life and your father’s. I will take my chances with the law. Most important, together the admiral and I will recover Ginny. Please go. It’s for the best.”

Danni hesitated. He was willing to sacrifice himself for her. And he was right. She should leave him.

But…

Her gaze drifted down to the wound he was clutching, the red stain seeping through his shirt. It needed to be properly cleaned and dressed. She didn’t want him to survive the bullet only to die of infection. She would not desert him.

“Remove your shirt, please.”

His eyes shot open in shock.

“I need either your shirt or your jacket. Choose.”

He pulled off his jacket obediently, his features tightening with the movement, then let the item drop by his side before collapsing into his previous position. Danni scooped up the jacket and disappeared into the woods. She needed to find water.

Marcus refused to open his eyes to watch Danni walk away. It was the best for both of them. She could move on with her life and marry her fiancé. She could start fresh. It was simply best to push her away now, ending this sooner rather than later.

Perhaps he would simply die here. He would not have to live with his demons anymore. He wouldn’t have to live to see Caro marry a monster, or witness another man enjoy Danni’s love.

Leaves crackled, followed by the snap of a twig. He opened his eyes, wondering if the admiral’s men had found him, and reminding himself that, unfortunately, he truly did want to live. However, it was Danni standing beside him, her face creased with worry. In her hands she cupped a dripping rag.

“You fool. You should be gone!”

“Lift your shirt.” Her voice held a note of command he was growing accustomed to. He obediently pulled it up. He could see now that the rag was soaked with water and a small puddle formed in the bottom of her hands. She met his gaze with a tender smile. “This may sting a little.”

He ignored the way his heart skipped a beat in relief that she was with him. Grunting in response, he flinched as the cold water cascaded down his side, biting into the wound. He tried to pull away but Danni’s hand caught the back of his neck, holding him in place.

The subtle heat of her hand offered surprising comfort. It soothed him and sickened him in the same instant. He had no right to this kindness, not after everything he’d done to her. He’d assumed she’d taken his jacket to keep warm on her journey away from him, but his Weston creation was now in rags being used to clean his side.

Her fingers rubbed softly against the base of his neck. His body instantly tensed, his blood heating. He breathed deeply, still able to detect the faint scent of roses that always clung to her. Despite the cold numbing his side, everything about him was hot, burning. Her voice was close and soft as she tenderly stroked the rag along his skin.

“I do not like to see you in pain, but we don’t have the proper liniments to care for the wound. Can I do anything else to ease the ache?”

Kiss me.

His mind shied away from the thought, even as his body clamored for it. He couldn’t ask that of her. It was amazing she wasn’t currently turning her bloodthirsty little mind on him in a cruel act of revenge. It was truly stunning she could still care about his comfort.

“Danni.”

She lifted her head, eyes shining with sadness and sympathy. He didn’t mean to say it, but before he knew it the whispered words had escaped.

“Kiss me.”

She blinked in surprise. She remained frozen for several agonizing moments. It was the longest hell of his life. His stomach dropped, threatening to rebel in his anxiousness. He couldn’t believe he had said it. It was one thing to offer him solace in the heat of such an emotional moment last night. It was quite another to do so in the light of day when they were both thinking rationally. Or at least when she was.

He gulped. By all rights, she should despise him. And yet…“Please.”

His heart nearly beat out of his chest in anticipation and fear. How could he dare to beg? Her surprise was slowly replaced with a gentle, knowing smile. It was a smile he’d waited his entire life to see on a woman when she looked at him, full of desire and wicked intent. Her caramel eyes melted to liquid gold, her thick lashes lowered. Danni ceased the gentle washing of his skin and shifted her body nearer.

Marcus’s heart beat with a vengeance. His hands itched to capture her to him. But he refused to touch her. He had to know she wanted this. That she would kiss him of her own volition. His body held immobile. His breath stilled. Her head moved closer, leaning inch by inch nearer to him. A strand of her hair swung forward to brush teasingly against his cheek.

Just centimeters from his, her lips stopped their progress and her smile deepened. Her sweet breath caressed his mouth. Marcus stared deeply into her eyes, his body straining against invisible reins while his hands clenched deeply into the rich soil around them. The nagging fear she would retreat held him back.

Suddenly, she softly pressed her lips against his bottom lip, playing at the center. Danni pulled back a little, her smile wider. Marcus was rendered speechless, bursting with the need for more. Her husky, passionate voice melted over him. “I have wanted to do that since I met you.”

A shudder racked him as his blood was pounded in his ears. Then in the blink of an eye, her mouth was on his again, smothering his lips with hers.

A determined sigh escaped her at the contact. Marcus’s eyes drifted shut. Her wonderful tongue caressed his lip again. He wanted more of her. His hands released the dirt and clutched at Danni’s waist. He made to shift her, to pull her closer to his body, but froze as an agonizing pain ripped through his side. He grunted and Danni’s arms immediately surrounded him, adjusting her position, so she leaned against his uninjured side, her fingers dancing along his back as he buried his face in her neck. He held her tightly as the burning pain slowly subsided.

Marcus marveled at the way she fit perfectly against him. He’d noticed last night as well. At the thought of his embarrassing emotional display and the liberties he had taken with her, he pulled back. “How can you not hate me?”

His puzzlement was deepened by her genuine look of surprise. “I should hate you?”

“Yes!”

Her brows lowered in confusion. “Why? You pester me beyond reason, but you’ve done nothing to make me hate you.”

“But I blackmailed you. You said yourself that I treated you horribly in the woods. Then last night, I…” He shifted uncomfortably, wincing painfully. “I don’t understand how you can even tolerate my presence.” He leaned closer, examining her face for the signs of a lie as he continued, “Why did you let me touch you?”

Her eyes brightened and her mouth twisted with puzzlement, then understanding cleared her features. “Do you think I only let you do…
that
because I felt sorry for you? That’s why you have been ignoring me again?”

He avoided the anger sparking in her eyes. “Among other reasons.”

“You are an impossible man!”

He blinked in disbelief. “Pardon?”

She huffed, a dark frown tugging her generous mouth. “Marcus, I’m extremely confused about what’s going on between us, but I can only be honest and state how I feel. First, I understand why you’ve kidnapped Ginny and while I don’t condone your actions, I can forgive you for it.”

Disbelief flooded him as she continued. “Second, for some unknown and entirely insane reason, I find you terribly and irresistibly attractive.”

He sputtered, trying to comprehend those impossible words. His grip on her tightened.

Could all this actually be true?

“Third, I want to see you safe, and happy.”

His heart seemed to have stopped beating. She
cared
about him?

“But, Marcus, I am to be promised to another.”

His hands instantly dropped away. He felt as if he’d been slapped. Her words crushed him. He flinched as he felt her fingers thread through his hair.

“I am not sure what name to give these feelings I have for you, Marcus, but I want to help you. Once we recover Ginny, perhaps we can find a solution that won’t involve forcing the poor girl into marriage.”

He exhaled heavily, barely hearing her. Would the misery that chased him through life never end? He had found a woman capable of accepting him with all his faults, yet she was not free to be with him. And the longer he was in her presence, the more certain he was that she was the only woman for him.

“Someday, you must find a way to move on from your father, Marcus. He’s dead, but he still has a tight grip on you. Don’t let him have that power.”

He grunted, stiffening at the mention of the man. He turned away with the pretense of sitting up, hiding the jagged scar down his face. “Easier said than done.”

“Somehow, this will be resolved.” Her arms wrapped about him, holding him close.

“You know, I enjoyed myself,” she whispered, turning his favorite color: ruddy red. “It was…nice.”

Nice.
That was not exactly how he—or any man for that matter—wished to be described as a lover.

He grunted again, and smirked, trying to lighten his mood. “Never use the word
nice
to describe a man’s prowess in bed, little one. It’s insulting.”

She laughed, releasing him, and resumed cleaning his wound. He sat patiently as she spoke of locating Ginny and heading home.

He remained silent. His view of the situation was not so simple. He had committed a crime, and his only hope for salvation was to find Ginny first, secure the marriage, and pray the admiral would let it stand rather than go through the scandalous process of an annulment.

As much as he loved Danni, and she, unbelievable, apparently cared for him, it did not change his situation. She was penniless, using her little business to support herself. He needed money—lots of it—to break Caro’s engagement. Ginny had that money.

No matter how he felt about Danni, he was going to have to marry Ginny when they got her back.

“Marcus! Look!”

Grunting against the pain in his side, he managed to shuffle across the forest floor to where Danni crouched among the trees. He rested his hand on the middle of her back to peer over her shoulder. Her back tensed to bear the extra weight. He was beginning to worry that he might cause her strain. Standing this morning had nearly outdone them both. Since then, out of necessity, he had used Danni as a crutch.

“What are we looking at?”

Danni extended a finger, pointing to a dark pile of ash. The surrounding leaves had been brushed away and the underbrush was crushed in the shape of bedrolls.

“Ah, a campsite.” He groaned stiffly.

“Exactly. And they left a trail to follow”—she pointed to a large pile in the grass before adding—“It won’t be a pleasant track, but I’ve never been more thankful for horses.”

He grunted without humor. “How do we know whose trail this is? I don’t see any signs of a carriage.”

“Would you rather crash about the woods aimlessly, or would you rather hope for the best and follow this trail?”

Marcus knew better than to argue with that mulish look. She straightened, draped his arm across her slim shoulders, and led him down the horses’ odorous trail.

He glanced down at their joined bodies, a foreign warmth spreading through him. She had managed to dress his wound using the remaining pieces of his expensive jacket, but he could feel his blood slowly staining the fabric beneath the extra shirt he’d put on. And this from a flesh wound. The bandage would have to do until they found a surgeon. Agonizing pain periodically shot through his chest; he struggled to bear it bravely. How he craved some brandy.

She squeezed him for encouragement, and he moved as fast as he could without tugging on his wound. He vaguely remembered the affection his mother had shown him as a young boy, but it had been a very long time since anyone had cared enough about him to extend kindnesses his way. Receiving them from Danni made them even more precious.

As long as it lasted.