Page 37 of The Rebellious Countess (The Ruined Duchess #2)

“We have come to find Simon. I will not leave without him.”

Elias froze. “You’ve been through enough.”

“Simon has been through more.”

“I can come back for Astley when you are safe.”

“Your grandfather is going to hang him.” It was a low blow, but he had to see reason.

“I won’t let that happen.”

Father Charles joined the conversation. “If we do not move tonight, I am afraid it will be too late.”

“I will not risk Máira.”

“You already have.” It was the worst thing she could have said to him.

She knew it before the words left her mouth, but they had come this far, she would not let her fears destroy their hopes of saving Simon.

She continued before Elias had a chance to argue further, allowing a nonchalance she didn’t feel to fill her voice. “Besides, Simon is the one.”

It was as if the hand he’d caressed reached up and slapped him across the cheek. Palm striking unsuspecting flesh with a resounding crack. His response was nothing but a whisper. A plea for her not to answer the question he asked. “What one?”

She glanced at the priest, not wanting him to hear what she was about to say. Luckily, Father Charles had proceeded some distance toward the abbey, allowing them space to argue quietly. “He’s the one I will marry if I find out I’m pregnant.”

Elias growled as he stalked forward, his chest brushing hers—he forced her to hold her ground and look up into his angry eyes. “It’s a little hard for him to do that if he’s dead.”

She shook her head. “He’s not dead.”

“How do you know that? His body could be decaying in the same mud which tried to swallow you whole.” There was no tenderness in his voice now, and despite all his claims that he could not be her husband, he was acting like an extremely jealous one.

Her heart wanted to rejoice, because he did care.

But if she melted, gave in to the love she felt, Elias would do what he needed to do to keep her safe and take her from the abbey without securing Simon.

Yet in the end he would leave her anyway.

She had to do whatever it took to save Simon.

They were his only chance at survival. Her heart was secondary.

And she was going to hurt Elias in the worst possible manner with what she said next.

“I’ve known Simon for a couple years. We’ve always had a…

a connection.” Elias looked as if he might break a tooth the way his jaw ground through her words, but she coldly continued to drive her dagger through the wall of his emotions and into his heart.

“Before you, I’d always dreamed of becoming the Countess of Astley. ”

She winced when he raised his hand to run muddy fingers through his hair. He turned away from her, took two steps, and turned around with such speed she didn’t see how he got so close to lean down and look directly in her eyes as he said, “ If you are with child, we will remain married.”

Hope for a different future began to lift the corners of her mouth.

“In name only,” he ground out before her smile could fully form.

“No earl will raise my son.” He spat the words out as if the title left a bitter taste on his tongue, then grabbed her hand once more.

Only this time he was not caressing the back of her knuckles like a lover, but squeezing her fingers like a prison vise, and Máira had a vision of what the future held—something altogether different from her dreams. He marched her past the priest without another word.

Father Charles looked at them expectantly, but neither offered an explanation, and so the holy man fell into step behind her as they made their way to the abbey at twice the speed they had been walking before.

Her altered trousers, now covered in mud, chafed uncomfortably.

There was a time when she would have focused on her discomfort, the rubbing and scraping of the wet leather against her skin.

Instead, she repeated the poem over and over in her head, wondering what tomorrow would bring.

Would she ever see that tender side of Elias again?

Or had she driven her dagger too deep, twisted it too hard, for his eyes to ever light up with passion for her once more?

They reached the ramparts of Mont Saint Michel in what seemed like minutes but was more likely just shy of an hour.

Built on top of the craggy cliffs, the abbey’s battlements reached high in the sky, blocking any light from the now cloud-covered moon.

She couldn’t see any torches burning on the wall, nor could she hear any more voices carrying across the bay.

The void of light and silence of the night felt wrong, heavy and overbearing as if a cumbersome cloak weighed them down.

Father Charles had warned Elias about scaling the walls at this location, saying it would be difficult due to the area being heavily patrolled.

Yet no patrol was in sight, and she worried the guards had seen them when she became stuck in the mire.

Or the words she’d flung at Elias had alerted them to intruders and allowed them to prepare for a battle.

Would the guards put a bullet through her husband’s chest because she had given away their location?

Her heart raced at the thought of her words being the cause of his death.

Father Charles and Elias, however, were in their element.

The priest took the lead as they melded with the shadows like specters preparing to seep through the walls.

They were making their way past the main tower Father Charles had called Tour Gabriel .

It was a small, enclosed turret designed to provide protection to those watching the shoreline.

Father Charles skirted the jagged rocks of the isle as they headed toward the Chapelle Saint Aubert.

He stopped suddenly and Máira ran into the back of him, her breath coming in small pants from the pace they’d kept and her own trampled heart.

The small chapel appeared to stand on a small peninsula all by itself, unprotected by the walls and ramparts which protected the town and abbey of Mont Saint Michel.

The faint light of a candelabrum flickered in the night through the one window of the chapel.

It was there, at the top of the steps, that two guards watched over the expanse of sand leading to the shore.

Elias backed up, pushing her with him, as they retraced their steps until they were hidden from the guards’ view.

Elias addressed his comment to Máira. “Once we’re inside, I need you to watch the tide. If it reaches the chapel, we won’t be able to cross and will have to find a place to hide here until the next low tide.”

She acknowledged his instruction with a nod and Elias began studying the cliffs.

Despite being so close to the chapel and the tower, from the spot they were standing, only shrubs and trees growing out of the rock could be seen as they looked east and west. To Máira, the terrain looked impossible to climb.

Elias and Father Charles, however, had prepared for the impassable.

“We will need to put our shoes on for the rest of our journey. Try to get your feet as clean as possible,” Father Charles instructed her.

Máira sat on the edge of a rock and began wiping off her feet.

The mud extended up to the roll of her pants at her knees, but she only concentrated on her feet and ankles.

“Let me help you,” Elias said, as he knelt in front of her and removed his shirt.

She should look the other way for modesty’s sake.

They were traveling with a priest, but she could not stop looking at this man who had begun to mean more to her than she’d ever imagined possible.

He wiped between her toes with care, making sure every bit of dirt and grime was removed.

“Give me your shoe.”

She did as he said, unable to do anything but watch as he worked.

“Thank you,” she whispered, as he finished and put his dirty shirt back on his body without a second thought.

He bent over, and for a moment, she thought he was going to kiss the top of her head, until he stopped and turned away to put on his own shoes.

Father Charles already had his shoes on and was taking a rope and hook out of the bag he carried.

Elias took the rope and motioned for her to step back as he let one end drop at his feet and checked it for tangles.

He stood on the end of the rope and grasped the other end a couple feet away from the dangerous looking three-pronged hook.

Once again motioned for her to step back and began swinging the hook in a circle before hurling it upward.

The rope turned into a blur as it sailed through the air toward his target—the only large tree rooted in the side of the cliff.

She flinched as the prongs smacked against the wood, the leaves rustling before it snagged hold. Elias yanked on the rope to ensure it was secure. Clearly this was not his first use of the hook, and a shiver ran down her spine as she imagined him throwing it over the edge of an enemy ship.

Elias caught her movement and moved closer to her. “ Ma chérie , if this is too much, we can go back.”

Stiffening her spine she whispered, “I’m fine.

” The feel of his breath on her neck making her think of much more dangerous skills Elias possessed.

“It’s just the breeze.” It was a lie, he knew and she knew it.

It was the middle of July and hardly cold.

“You go first, Father. You’re more familiar with the abbey than we are, and that will allow me to assist my wife. ”

“Of course.” The priest pulled himself up as if he were walking perpendicular to the wall. Hand over hand, he made the task look as easy as if he were walking across a bridge.

Elias then handed the rope to Máira. “Do you think you can do it?”

Máira looked at her husband, her brow cocking in challenge. “Do you think I can’t?”

“Very few women could.”

“You’ve climbed that many mountains with that many women?”