Authors: Elizabeth Squire
To Sinclair’s relief, there was a farmhouse over the next rise whose occupants were more than happy to provide them with a meal of freshly baked bread and hot coffee. A discussion with the farmer confirmed Sinclair was indeed right, and should they proceed in a south-westerly direction they would intercept the main road to Boulogne within an hour.
Sure enough, they found the road as the farmer had promised. Yesterday’s encounter with the Hussar weighed heavily upon Sinclair’s mind, but they would be less conspicuous if they were to blend into the local traffic than if they were seen moving across the open countryside. The day led them through several small villages where they frequently stopped to refresh and rest their horses; but, there was a distinct unease between him and Liliane. The chit had barely spoken to him all day, and when she did, she hastily looked away, her eyes furtively darting towards some imagined speck on the horizon. Not that it made any difference to him; it was all he could do not to haul her from her horse and taste that sweet mouth again. And no amount of assumed indifference could disguise the fact that she was equally discomposed.
An hour from Boulogne Sinclair continued to brood and curse over the whole set of sorry circumstances that had landed him in France to start with, and failed to notice the Hussar scouting party rounding the corner until Liliane hissed in alarm. ‘Sin, it’s the Lieutenant from Monsieur Deneux’s house.’
Sinclair didn’t flinch. ‘Let me handle things,
mon fleur
.’
‘Yes, but how will we explain our presence at Monsieur Deneux’s?’ Her voice was a hurried whisper.
‘Liliane, it’ll be fine. Just stick to our cover story, I’ll manage the rest.’ Although every instinct he possessed was telling him this was no routine scouting party. One encounter with a troop of Hussar may be a coincidence, two was suspicious, but this third encounter meant the Hussar were pursuing a quarry. And if that was the case, he needed to determine whether he and Liliane were that quarry, and who may have tipped the Hussar off.
Within minutes the Lieutenant assembled his party in the centre of the road and raised a hand towards Sinclair and Liliane. ‘Halt,
Monsieur
,
Mademoiselle
. I’m Lieutenant De Bois and I wish to see your identification, if you please.’
Sinclair slipped from Vulcan’s back and produced the requested documentation. He had no fear that their identification would withstand scrutiny. Solange had organised Liliane’s paperwork and his had been tested countless times before.
The officer looked up from examining the credentials and levelled his gaze on Liliane. ‘
Mademoiselle
, please dismount from your horse.’ Liliane looked to Sinclair for guidance and, noting his discreet nod of the head, slid to the ground.
Sinclair stood uncomfortably by Vulcan as De Bois stepped toward Liliane and grasped her chin, raising her head for a closer examination. Behind him, his two compatriots leeringly sent each other silent messages of consensus. Not bothering to try and hide his predacity, De Bois lifted a stray lock of Liliane’s hair and brought it to his nose and inhaled deeply.
Sinclair’s muscles bunched tightly; that was bloody well enough of that. Damn the bastard for even daring to lay a finger on her. Liliane flinched as her hair snagged in De Bois’s moustache and Sinclair snapped a hand around the Lieutenant’s wrist. ‘Leave her alone, Lieutenant. She’s not yours to touch.’
The Lieutenant swung his ice blue gaze to stare penetratingly at Sinclair for several moments. Sinclair stared back unwaveringly and held firm to the man’s wrist—he would reserve the pleasure of knocking that imperious look off his face for another time.
With a snarl De Bois dropped Liliane’s hair and flung Sinclair’s hand away. ‘What is your relationship to this man,
Mademoiselle
?’
Sinclair swore silently. He needed to wrest this conversation back towards him. ‘She is—’
‘I am his betrothed, Monsieur Lieutenant.’ Sinclair froze to stone as Liliane blushed becomingly and had the audacity to cast a coy smile at him. What the hell did she think she was doing?
She looked back at her inquisitor. ‘We’re on our way to Boulogne to be wed.’ With a dramatic sigh Liliane lowered her eyes to the ground and moved her hand protectively over her stomach. ‘Our friend Monsieur Deneux was good enough to provide us with the name of a cleric who would be happy to assist with the nuptials.’
She stepped closer to Sinclair and slipped a small hand into his. ‘I must confess we have not told my Papa, so we’re in something of a hurry, you see.’ Leaning forward she whispered conspiratorially. ‘We’re expecting a happy event and I fear Papa would be most upset if he were to find out before Monsieur St Clair could do the honourable thing and make amends for my lost virtue.’
Sinclair squeezed Liliane’s hand firmly and tried to ignore the tick above his left eye. Had the blasted woman lost her mind—no one was going to swallow this Banbury tale. Thank God she had the ingenuity to fabricate a reason for being at Deneux’s house. With any luck by the time that excuse was validated, they’d be miles away.
Sinclair grinned conspiratorially at the Lieutenant. ‘Come, De Bois, you understand how it is.’ He slipped a possessive arm around Liliane’s waist and shot Du Bois a lewd wink. ‘A trip to the alter is a small price to pay for a delicious package such as this.’ Trapped within Sinclair’s arm, Liliane stiffened noticeably, but thankfully had the good sense to remain quiet. They were going to need the luck of the gods as it was if they were to pull off this charade.
The Lieutenant moved a step back from Liliane and redirected his gaze to Sinclair, his eyes boring into him as if to discern the truth of the matter. Before he could open his mouth to speak, a discordant noise drew their attention.
Glancing about, Sinclair watched as the farmer they had assisted yesterday drew his horse and cart to a stop. ‘Ah Claude, you’ve made good time to catch up to us—I see my friend was more than happy to accept your apples. I’d take care with that back wheel, though, it doesn’t look like it will take you too far. Be sure to get it looked at in the next village.’
‘
Oui
, Monsieur St Clair, you are always looking out for me,
non
?’
‘You know this man?’ the Lieutenant demanded of the farmer.
Claude nodded effusively. ‘Absolutely, this is Monsieur St Clair, and his beautiful Mademoiselle Liliane. Such a sweet girl—I had such hopes that she would marry my Arnaud. Alas, I fear it’s not to be.’ Sighing Claude shook his head as though still trying to accept the inevitable. With a nod towards Liliane he continued. ‘I suspect that Mademoiselle Liliane has already made her choice. Is that not right, little one?’
Liliane shot the farmer a shy smile. ‘Yes, Monsieur Claude, you’re right.’
Sinclair looked from one to the other. Had the whole bloody world gone mad? It was bad enough that he and Liliane were under suspicion of the Hussar, but Claude risked execution if his deception was discovered.
Fuck.
Sinclair felt a fine sheen of sweat form on his back. More to the point, he was now irrevocably betrothed to Liliane.
De Bois stood in the middle of the road and looked from one to the other of the three travellers, as if still undecided on the veracity of their story. Finally, with a shrug of his shoulder he moved toward Sinclair and gave him a sound slap on the arm. ‘It seems as if congratulations are in order, my friend. We will accompany you to Boulogne to ensure that you arrive safely. I even know a good inn where you and your lady will be well treated.’
With a sly look at Liliane, he continued. ‘Of course, in the absence of this fine lady’s Papa, I feel it behoves me to ensure you treat her honourably.’ He smiled broadly at the assembled group. ‘So once you’re settled I’ll see to having a celebrant perform the marriage service for you.’
Sinclair watched as the blood drained from Liliane’s face and feared she would faint then and there. Moving quickly, he tightened his grip around her waist and held her tightly to him. He cast a dismissive look at De Bois who was watching intently. ‘That’s a little presumptuous of you. She’s in a delicate condition as it is, I’m not going to do anything that upsets her further. As you can appreciate, it wouldn’t be healthy for her if she were to become over wrought. I thank you for your offer, but I think that I can see to matters myself.’
De Bois took a menacing step forward. ‘Ah but Monsieur St Clair, it seems that you have already seen to matters. I would be derelict in my duty as an honourable French citizen if I were to neglect the needs of our country’s fair daughters. It will be as I say,
non
?’
‘Thank you, Lieutenant, but I have things well in hand.’
The Lieutenant grabbed Vulcan by the halter and tightly held the horse’s head still. ‘Monsieur, you seem very anxious to be rid of my escort. I am beginning to wonder whether you actually intend to wed the fair Mademoiselle Beaumont. Maybe you have something to hide?’
De Bois’s companions nudged their horses closer. The Sergeant slid his rifle around to lay it across his lap and openly leered at Liliane as he addressed De Bois. ‘Sir, I would happily wed the
Mademoiselle
, and,’ he guffawed, ‘I’d be happy to share with Hugot.’
Sinclair stiffened as Liliane gasped, drawing the Lieutenant’s attention back toward her.
‘Let me assure you,
Monsieur
, that apart from hoping to avoid my Papa until after our nuptials, you can take heed that we have nothing to hide.’ She turned to the Sergeant. ‘And you,’ she spat, ‘I would sooner starve than—’
Sinclair quickly pushed her behind him as the Sergeant’s horse surged forward. Christ, all he needed was for his little spitfire to get them arrested. De Bois raised a warning hand. ‘Such disrespect,
Mademoiselle
. Steady, Felix, I’m not sure I would condemn you to a life with such a shrew.’
‘That’s enough,’ Sinclair commanded. ‘Lieutenant, I take exception to your treatment of my betrothed. If you’ll excuse us, we’ll be on our way.’
‘No, Monsieur St Clair, I think in light of circumstances, you’ve convinced me it’s best for all that I escort you to Boulogne.’
Damn it to hell. That was the last thing they needed. But circumstances had passed the point of argument and they would only subject themselves to further suspicion if they refused to heed the Lieutenant’s orders. And a firing squad was a distinct possibility. Sinclair stood firm for a few moments before he turned to Liliane and nodded. ‘Come, I will help you mount your horse.’
***
Following De Bois, Liliane wheeled her horse into the cobbled courtyard of the inn. Why in God’s name had she let herself be provoked into telling the Lieutenant she was betrothed to Sin? Not just betrothed, but expecting his baby. She halted her horse and promptly slid to the ground, too distraught to wait for Sin to assist her. She should have realised De Bois would seize upon any excuse to detain them, especially after the predatory way he’d eyed her at Deneux’s house. A wave of nausea washed over her, souring her stomach and turning her skin to ice. Feeling her knees about to buckle she clung to the saddle until her legs stopped trembling.
Tears pricked the back of her eyes as Sin, with a kindness he surely didn’t feel towards her right now, stepped up and grasped her by the arm. He nodded to the stable boy to take care of their horses and then, putting his arm gently around her, led her into the inn’s foyer to stand before the blazing fireplace.
Leaning close he murmured into her ear. ‘You’re going to have to play this out a bit longer,
mon fleur
, we are far from out of the woods. It will be a fine thing indeed if this day does not end with a wedding.’
Liliane drew a tight breath and attempted to step out of his grasp. The day had been taxing for both of them and was far from over. ‘You’re right, I spoke hastily and without consideration for the situation we’re in. I should have allowed myself to be molested by him instead.’
‘You’re being unreasonable, Liliane, you know that’s not what I meant. Simply, we need to see this charade through to the end—together.’
After several tight seconds Liliane turned back to Sinclair, her voice edged with panic. ‘I apologise. I truly didn’t foresee this happening. But Sin, surely he can’t force us to be wed? How on earth would I ever explain this to my family—they would be distraught. I’d be ruined.’
‘Rarely has a wedding resulted in anyone’s ruin,’ he commented dryly. ‘And I’m certain Solange is not the type to be overly concerned by a hasty wedding. There’s not any other family that you have omitted to mention? A Duke, or some such ready to run me through?’
‘No,’ she squeaked. Except Uncle Nate was a Duke of the highest standing and for all of his indulgences, even he would not be able to overlook a marriage to Sin. Standing before the inn’s roaring fire Liliane felt chilled to the bone and around her the entire room began to rotate and dissolve into a monochromatic blur. As her knees gave way she felt Sin lift her into his arms and cradle her against his strong, capable chest. The world kept spinning but she was vaguely aware of him motioning the innkeeper over, and of the confident rumble of his voice against her ear.
‘Monsieur, our room, at once if you do not mind. Madame is unwell. Have a fire lit and a hot bath drawn for her, immediately. Ah, and a pot of tea also.’
Relaying a set of instructions to a nearby chamber maid, the inn keeper grabbed a set of keys and indicated for Sin to follow him.
A short while later Liliane lay on the soft bed, the clamouring in her head yet to quieten. She pried her eyes open and looked about the room. It was on the third floor, set back into the eaves, with the inn’s pitched roof draped low over the large four-poster bed. At the foot of the bed a fire was crackling in the hearth and beside it sat an old bureau of draws. On one side of the bed a door led to what Liliane assumed must be the dressing room. The room’s exposed beams and floral fabrics gave it an intimate and rustic feel, enhanced by the soft light from the late afternoon sun. Just the thing if one were looking for a romantic place to spend their wedding night, she mused with irony.