Unicorn Vengeance (21 page)

“Hardly that,” she snapped.

“You would not deny that that villain intended to abscond with you?” Wolfram demanded archly, his pride pricked that she refused to see the dashing sweep of his bravery. Genevieve, to his dismay, made a sound of deprecation under her breath.

“‘Twas
Odo
you saved me from, you imbecile,” she retorted. “Odo, the minstrel,” she added at sight of Wolfram's blank expression.

Odo? Wolfram blinked as Genevieve's tirade continued unabated.

“Mayhap you could confide in me what particular odious fate you imagined a
minstrel
might have planned for me?”

Odo?

Wolfram reined in the horse and glanced back over his shoulder doubtfully. A heartily disgruntled man with decidedly red hair glared after them, his hands propped on his hips. The minstrel had had red hair, Wolfram acknowledged belatedly, and well enough did this man resemble him.

He even sported the same garb. Wolfram swallowed slowly and glanced back to Genevieve, a hearty seed of doubt planted in his mind.

Her openly skeptical expression prompted that seed to grow a root.

“Well I thought that he threatened you,” he offered tentatively. Genevieve rolled her eyes scornfully, and that budding plant unfurled a leaf.

“Oh, indeed,” she replied. “Aye, you could likely tell as much by the way we stood, discussing matters like civilized beings.”

Wolfram was forced to admit belatedly that there had been little suspicious about their pose. Belatedly he admitted that the man
could
have simply grasped Genevieve's arm in greeting.

The seed unfurled another great green leaf and strained for the sunlight. In fact, he supposed there had been naught at all to prompt his response. ‘Twas not a revelation that sat well, and Wolfram felt his neck heat.

He had been terribly wrong, and embarrassment rolled through him too late to affect a difference. Impulsive he had been beyond compare. How could he have not even looked at the man? How could he have barged ahead in a most impetuous manner, he who always carefully considered every move first?

Anger rose within him as he met the judgmental gaze of the woman seated afore him.

‘Twas
Genevieve
who had done this to him. ‘Twas fear for Genevieve that had prompted his hand. Indeed, the woman fairly made his innards writhe. She unleashed his passions, she poked in secret corners of his mind, she provoked his emotions. She was dangerously unsettling and precariously attractive and...and...

And Wolfram would do anything within his power to see her safe. The very thought stilled everything within him, until the only rational explanation for such erratic behavior spilled into his thinking.

His task ‘twas to fulfill the pledge he had given her to see her safe. Aye, Wolfram had dashed in only to fulfill his responsibilities. No more than that. ‘Twas not that he had cast his usual manner aside—nay, never that—only that some situations required urgency.

Even if urgency oft led to error. He fidgeted in the saddle beneath Genevieve's scathing gaze.

“And well you were mistaken in your conclusions,” Genevieve retorted unnecessarily. “I believe you owe Odo and me an apology.”

An apology? For attempting to fulfill his task? Never!

Genevieve must have seen the mutiny in his eyes, for she pushed with sudden impatience at the grip of Wolfram's hand on her waist. “Let me down,” she demanded.

“No reason is there for you to dismount,” Wolfram protested. “‘Tis only reasonable, after all, that a lady ride—”

He got no farther than that, for Genevieve seemed quite determined to wriggle against him in a most disconcerting manner. His voice faded to naught as he stared down at her twisting hips. Only too aware was Wolfram that she sat directly in his lap, though indeed he had thought little of the matter until this very moment.

Genevieve glanced up in confusion, and her gaze was snared by his. Marvel spread slowly through Wolfram as he held her clear green gaze. Marvel that this woman alone knew who and what he was, yet she did not scorn his company completely. His secret, it seemed, was safe with her, and he saw the confirmation of that in her eyes. She could reveal him, but he saw in her expression no judgment at all.

Did this mean he could trust this intoxicating woman?

Wolfram caught his breath in mingled admiration and vulnerability. His body responded of its own will in a manner that could be mistaken for naught else. God's blood, but this woman plagued his resolve!

Indeed, Genevieve seemed not to have mistaken his response, for she halted her squirming abruptly. Recollection of the previous night flooded through him, and Wolfram knew not what to say. His neck heated as certainty filled him that Genevieve was watching the color rise in his face with that unwavering scrutiny.

Then she shook her head and abruptly pushed at his hand anew.

“Let me go,” she muttered forcefully. “Naught have you and I to say to each other at this late date.”

“What do you mean?” Wolfram demanded in surprise. She glanced up to him again, and he fancied the set of her lips softened momentarily at his evident dismay.

“Make no mistake,” Genevieve said with a terseness that her eyes belied. “Well do I appreciate your aid last eve, but this morn my path lies in another direction.”

“What direction is that?”

“Naught of your business are my affairs,” she declared, but Wolfram could not let the matter lie.

“Where do you go? Tell me, that I might aid you.”

Genevieve dropped her gaze, and Wolfram knew she intended to be evasive. “‘Tis a direction in which I must go alone,” she said. So sharp was the gaze he bent upon her that it seemed she was obligated to meet his regard once more.

“I would aid you,” he vowed in a soft murmur. Genevieve's lips parted, then she seemed to abruptly recall something less than pleasant. She pulled herself up stiffly and pushed away from him.

“You?” she demanded scornfully, and her tone stung. “
You
would aid me? What kind of poor joke is this?”

“I said I would aid you because I would,” Wolfram repeated stubbornly.

Genevieve tossed her chin. “As if I would willingly accept the aid of one who cold-bloodedly murdered my own brother.”

To hear the words fall from her lips was no small shock, but Wolfram schooled himself not to turn away. “Well can I understand your anger,” he began, though in truth he was destined to say no more.

“You do not even deny it!” she cried. Fury snapped unbridled in Genevieve's eyes, and with a sudden burst of strength, she pushed him away and leapt from the horse. Wolfram snatched at her to no avail, the way she winced when she landed making him wince in sympathy.

But no interest had Genevieve in his sympathy.

“You!” she shouted as she wagged one finger up at him. “
You
stole away the last of my family, yet you calmly expect me to accept your aid. What manner of idiot do you fancy me to be?” The color rose in her cheeks and her voice grew louder, yet Genevieve granted Wolfram no reprieve.

“How could you imagine that I could sleep easily with
you
standing guard over me? Ha! A fine jest that is! As likely as not you would slip something foul into my wine one day and leave me to expire!” Genevieve swung her lute around viciously as she turned and stalked toward an Odo who clearly listened avidly. Wolfram felt his face heat, but he dared not open his mouth to defend himself.

What defense had he, after all? The lady called him to task for a deed he had committed in truth.

“Well, no fool am I.” Genevieve turned back to Wolfram and jabbed a finger through the air toward him. “Whoever ‘tis that you might be! No interest have I in
your
assistance. Odo will help me instead.” With that, Genevieve turned and stalked away. That she limped slightly as she walked did naught to dissipate Wolfram's certainty in her anger.

Odo?
Surely that man was at the root of Genevieve's predicament!

“You would instead employ the aid of a minstrel when all the king's court hunts you?” Wilfram forced himself to ask mildly. Genevieve fired a glance of such loathing over her shoulder that Wolfram nearly flinched.

“I suppose you find yourself better outfitted to aid me?” she demanded, her contrary opinion evident enough to leave Wolfram's ears burning.

No small thing was it for her to insult his talents, however angry she might be. He
could
aid her more effectively than Odo, and well had he thought she had the wits enough to know it. Sparks were struck within him and anger lit with a dull glow. Wolfram urged the horse to stroll in pursuit of her as he forced himself to compose a telling argument.

Not that she would appreciate the effort. Well it seemed the woman made judgments and decisions with an impulsiveness that made him cringe. Solid logic she would not recognize should she trip over it on the street.

“Aye,” he retorted sharply. “Aye, I do know myself to be better equipped to aid you, and well should you.”

“Aye,” Genevieve observed sourly. “A killer is the kind of man of whom I have dire need in this moment.”

“A song, no matter how fetching, will gain you little if the king's hounds set their teeth in your hide,” Wolfram snapped. “You might well be pleased to see something die at my hand in that circumstance. Could your minstrel stomach the task?” Genevieve flicked him a glance filled with more fear than she likely wanted him to see. “Could your minstrel have seen you to safe haven these last two nights?”

“At least I could sleep through the night assured that morning would not find a dagger in my back,” she snapped in return. Wolfram cocked a brow high.

“Well had I thought the dagger was your weapon of choice,” he accused softly.

Genevieve's eyes flew wide and she gasped as she turned to confront him. The color drained from her face as she evidently saw that Wolfram knew the fullness of what she had intended to do.

“Mayhap we have something in common, after all,” Wolfram purred, enjoying that he had the upper hand, for the moment at least. Well enough he knew it would not last, and when Genevieve inhaled sharply and bolted, he was prepared to give pursuit.

“I cannot travel with you.” She tossed the words hastily over her shoulder as she ran, but Wolfram was not finished with their discussion as yet. Blessed stubborn, Genevieve was, but Wolfram knew his determination would outweigh her own.

He was right and he knew it. He aimed not to cease arguing until she knew it, as well. Curse the woman for being so determined to ignore what he said!

“You cannot travel without me and survive,” Wolfram observed as he dug his heels into his horse's side. The beast cantered after Genevieve as she tried to hasten toward Odo.

“I can and I will,” she declared as he rode alongside. Her breath came in short spurts and she shot him a glance ripe with fury.

“And where would you go?” Wolfram inquired mildly.

“Home.” Genevieve bit the word out viciously.

“Montsalvat? A choice of meager appeal, in truth,” he commented.

That captured her attention fully. Genevieve halted abruptly and clutched her lute close with one arm while she propped the other hand on her hip to confront him. Wolfram pulled the reins and the horse stepped sideways at the abrupt change of pace, tossing its head once or twice before it settled.

Once again they confronted each other, and the air crackled with tension. Odo was close enough to hear their words now, and Wolfram hoped that man would throw his argument on the side of good sense. Who knew what whimsy a minstrel might find compelling? Well it seemed that this lutenist was determined to cling to a path of little merit.

“Why?” Her demand hung in the air between them.

“But think upon it, Genevieve,” Wolfram urged, leaning forward. “‘Tis the first place they will seek you out.”

She lifted her chin stubbornly and he knew she would argue the point. “Nay, they will not. ‘Tis too far.”

Wolfram snorted. “Aye, ‘twas clearly too far to send me,” he commented dryly.

“‘Tis not such a leap of intellect to connect Munsalvaesche with Montsalvat,” Odo added.

Genevieve looked between both men with evident frustration, her expression slowly changing to dismay. Her color rose angrily and she fired a hostile glance in Odo's direction. “‘Tis all your fault, if they would seek me out now,” she accused.

Odo arched a skeptical brow and folded his arms across his chest. “Aye, ‘twas I who demanded you declare your identity before all,” he commented.

“No risk was there in that, surely,” Genevieve protested. “I am but a woman and no threat to any man's power.”

“But young enough to bear spawn to an ambitious man,” Odo declared flatly.

Genevieve's eyes widened and she turned to Wolfram.

“I do not think they will leave the matter be,” he said gently when she seemed to be waiting for his conclusions. “Accept my aid in this.”

His last words went unheard as Odo interjected. “You should have known better than to come to Paris and draw attention to yourself,” that man accused. Genevieve gasped but Odo merely shrugged. Wolfram saw rage light her eyes before she turned and savagely punched the minstrel in the belly.

“Fool! Addle-pated idiot! How dare you sing of my family in the king's own court and jeopardize everything! How dare you reveal me that I cannot return home! How dare you meddle with my life! How dare you steal everything away from me that I have known!”

“I thought it but a tale!” Odo cried as he tried to defend himself. Only the fact that Genevieve resolutely held her lute out of the fray, leaving her with but one hand to attack, granted the minstrel any chance at all. Wolfram leapt from his saddle to aid.

“A dangerous thread of truth there is in all of it!” Genevieve insisted. “How could you do this to me? How could you risk everything for naught?”