Page 12 of The Storybook Hero (Intrepid Heroines #2)

Twelve

M orning—it if could be called that—gave rise to no more than a gloomy half-light that barely penetrated the thick canopy of pine trees. It was hardly something to inspire a brighter outlook on their predicament, thought Alex as he shifted slightly on the frozen ground. The movement caused his thigh to brush against a still-sleeping Octavia and a faint smile stole to his lips.

The situation was undeniably grave, but for now, all he could think of was the reassuring warmth stealing through the rough wool of his clothing—a warmth more penetrating than he had ever experienced. He closed his eyes and his arm stole around her waist, drawing her even closer.

Her words from the previous night still echoed in his ears. They had offered a measure of comfort and support that he had given up on ever hearing from anyone. She had not shied away in disgust at his weaknesses or his pain, but had embraced him—faults and all.

His faint smile crooked into a rueful grimace. However, it wouldn’t do to read too much into her actions, he reminded himself. No doubt it was only her innate championing of the underdog, the same sentiment that made her jump to the defense of helpless children—and likely stray animals—that inspired such kindness.

Alex released a soft sigh that stirred the loose tendrils at the nape of her neck. She was not only kind and compassionate but exceedingly alluring as well, despite her assertions to the contrary. He wondered why she thought herself unattractive. Had none of the country louts she had grown up with ever noticed her intriguing hazel eyes and lush mouth?—

Octavia’s eyes fluttered open. For an instant, she snuggled even closer to him, then, pulled away with a little start.

“Oh!”

“Good morning, Octavia,” he said softly.

A flush of color rose to her cheeks. “Er, good morning, sir.” She sought to wiggle free of his arm.

“Alex,” he reminded her, not quite letting go. “After all, we have spent the night together.”

The blush deepened. “Do stop teasing. As if …” Her words cut off.

“As if what?”

She swallowed hard. “As if … as if we have time to waste.” She struggled to a sitting position. “We had better start thinking of a way to extricate ourselves from this coil.”

Alex reluctantly let his hand fall away from her hip. “Mmmm. Right.” It was very difficult to turn his attention from the cascade of honey-colored tresses framing her face to more practical matters.

With a stick, he prodded a few of the embers into flame, then added an armful of fresh wood to the fire. He glanced upward, only to narrow his eyes in concern at the ominous grey clouds rolling in from the east. “I think we have no choice but to continue with the horses and try to find a way out of this damned forest.”

He pulled a rough map from inside his coat. “If we head west, we must come out somewhere here.” His finger traced along a sketchy road and stopped higher up, at where several village names were scrawled. “At least we may find some food and shelter, and perhaps a conveyance to purchase or a public coach heading north.”

Octavia regarded the wrinkled piece of paper. “We were there?” She pointed to a spot.

He nodded.

“And now we are here?” Her gesture indicated a wide, empty patch between the inked lines.

“Yes.”

“Well, that should mean that it will take some time for our pursuers to make their way around to where we intend to come out.”

He frowned. “Yes—assuming they go by the road.”

Octavia hung the battered kettle, the water left from last night now frozen solid, over the coals. “I had better rouse the children.”

That proved no easy task. Both of them were loath to leave what little warmth their blankets provided, and a bit of petulant whining reached Alex’s ear. Emma, it appeared, was in a testy mood.

“I’m hungry, Miss Hadley,” she complained. “And cold. And I want to sleep in a bed, not this pile of dirt and leaves.”

“None of us are terribly comfortable, Emma, but we must make the best of it ...”

Alex watched with some admiration as Octavia managed to coax the girl out of her cocoon with a few more encouraging words. “Now please help Nicholas gather some wood for the fire while I make some tea.”

Emma bit at her lower lip but she rose and stumbled off after the boy without further complaint.

“Well done,” he murmured when Octavia returned to begin fixing their last bit of gruel. “You have a deft touch with … difficult people.”

She ducked her head to hide her smile. “Indeed, I find that all it takes is?—”

Her reply was cut short by a loud cry. Both Alex and Octavia jumped to their feet, but he was first to sprint through the tangle of thorns and dead branches to reach the prostate child. Emma had lost her balance atop a fallen tree and tumbled to the ground below. There was a tear in her coat where a broken branch had snagged the material and her face had several nasty scratches across her left cheek, now thoroughly awash in a stream of tears.

“I want to go home,” she sobbed.

Alex knelt down and gathered her in his arms. “Of course you do, sweeting, and that is where I mean to take you.”

Her head burrowed deeper against his shoulder, and he was amazed at the surge of protectiveness that coursed through him as Emma’s arms came around his neck. He, who had thought precious little of anything but his own amusements for more time than he cared to remember, was suddenly aware that he would commit murder with his bare hands if any man dared lay a finger on Emma, or the others.

He gently massaged her quivering shoulders. “Look at me, Emma,” he coaxed.

Her tearstained face slowly rose a fraction.

“I thought you said you wanted the heroes to cry, not the heroines.”

She tried to stop sobbing. “I—I’m frightened, Mr. Leigh.”

“I may not be as chivalrous as Valancourt,” he continued in a soft voice, “but I promise you that no harm will come to you.”

“You are ever so much better than that nodcock, Mr. Leigh,” she said through her snuffling. “You are the nicest hero I can ever imagine.”

“Why don’t you call me Alex. It seems we have become a family of sorts, at least for a time, so we might dispense with the formalities.

A tentative smile came to her face. “Oh, I should like that very much—Alex.”

The sound of snapping branches caused all of them to start. “Is Emma all right?” cried Nicholas, sliding to a halt with a stout length of wood clutched in his hand.

“She is just fine,” answered Alex. “Are you recovered enough to go back?” he asked of her.

Emma brushed away her tears and nodded.

“That’s my brave girl.” He pressed a light kiss on her cheek.

Her mouth dropped in confused wonder, then she began to giggle. “You are all prickly, Alex.”

He ran a hand over his dark stubble. “Yes, well, my valet must have overslept this morning. I shall have to speak to him about such a regrettable lapse.”

She giggled even louder.

“I should be happy to take her now,” offered Octavia, who had come up close behind them.

Alex turned to find her regarding him with an expression that caused his stomach to give a little lurch.. “I don’t mind,“ he replied rather shakily. “I shall take her back to the camp.”

The look of gratitude she gave him sent another sort of emotion coursing through him.

Damnation , he thought. It was getting cursed difficult to ignore the growing attraction he was feeling. But he must. There were too many other things to concern him at the moment than the state of his heart.

Like the state of their necks.

They hurried through the simple meal and began to ready their things for the journey. As Emma lugged her small bag out of the shelter and handed it over to Alex, a heavy item fell to the ground. A guilty look pinched at her face “I … I know you said we must only bring essentials, but?—”

He gave her a surreptitious wink and slipped it back in with her other belongings. “But of course The Mysteries of Udolpho is an essential for this trip. I, for one, can’t wait to who overcomes the greatest of perils—us or them.”

Octavia chose to walk rather than ride the plodding mount. Though the brambles and underbrush made progress difficult, it was better than being bounced like a sack of grain by the animal’s uneven gait. The sky had become even darker, forcing her to keep an eye on the horse ahead to keep from getting lost. Alex, too, had opted to go on foot, though his arm remained curled around Emma’s waist to steady her seat on the makeshift saddle. The girl seemed quite recovered from her mishap. From what snatches of conversation drifted back to her, it appeared that Emma was deep into explaining the latest threat to the hero and heroine in Mrs. Radcliffe’s novel from the dastardly Montoni.

That Alex tolerated such childish chatter without complaint made Octavia smile, despite their own travails. To think that only a few days ago she had thought him a rather shallow rake. A charming one to be sure, but not a man who gave much thought to anything other than his own desires. How wrong she had been!

Last night he had shown himself capable of feeling pain and remorse—and perhaps most touching of all, a fear of being alone in the world. In that, she mused, he was not so very different from Emma—or herself.

And just now, he had revealed a gentle, compassionate side of his character. Octavia hadn’t imagined that he would be so good with children, but the flash in his eyes as Emma had wound her thin arms around his neck had been unfeigned.

A sigh. If a man had looked at her in such a manner, she would have found her insides melting into mush! Perhaps it was best that such a thing was nigh on impossible. Even if she hadn’t warned him off in no uncertain terms, his mild flirtations were merely that—a game that men and women played in which both of them knew the rules, as well as the boundaries.

So why did her mind keep straying beyond those confines?

That he was devilishly attractive was undeniable. But it was more than his broad shoulders and chiseled features that had her emotions in a state of turmoil. Rather, it was the unexpected sensitivity, which along with a keen intelligence and quick wit had her … well, had her gushing like some flighty chit in a horrid novel.

Forcing a deep breath, she vowed to put such unsettling aside and concentrate on the problems at hand. It was well she did, for a hidden outcropping of rock nearly sent her sprawling.

Alex whipped around at the sound of her stumble, his expression of concern softening into a smile of encouragement on seeing she was still on her feet. In fact, Octavia thought she detected a wink before he turned back to guiding his tired horse through yet another thicket of densely knit boughs.

Despite her resolve, she couldn’t quite help wondering what it was he saw when he looked at her. An aging governess with the pinched features of a disapproving harridan? No, he had compared her with a tiger, and the comparison made her feel rather low. Was she really all roar and sharp claws? For once in her life she found herself wishing she were somehow more like a kitten—softer, cuddlier, sweeter. In other words, all the things she abhorred in those of her sex. She might judge such qualities ridiculous, but men seemed to find them … irresistible.

It would be nice to be found irresistible?—

A loud crack, like the snapping of a branch, jarred her back to her senses.

Octavia looked up, just in time to feel the whoosh of air on her cheek as a bullet whistled by mere inches from her cheek. Alex bellowed a warning to get down as he grabbed Emma from atop her mount and thrust her into the cover of the underbrush. Heedless of her own safety, Octavia reached for Nicholas and jerked him from the makeshift saddle. Another shot rang out, causing the boy to cry out in terror.

The gnarled roots of an old Sitka spruce offered some small measure of protection. She dragged him down behind the twisted wood, pausing a moment to catch her breath. There was no sound, save for the pounding of her heart, but she had no allusions that the danger was past. She eyed their old horse, who was still standing where she had left him, flanks quivering, too tired to bolt. Her reticule! she thought. She needed her reticule! Inside it was the pistol, their only chance at fighting back.

“For God’s sake, Octavia, stay where you are,” cried Alex as she slithered away from the spruce and scrambled to her feet.

A dark shape exploded from shadows, coming straight for her. Even in the faint light, she caught the glint of steel as the rider raised his pistol to take dead aim.

“Damnation!” came the muffled shout. Alex was moving with even greater speed toward her and managed to catch their assailant’s shaggy stallion by its bridle and yanked its head to one side.

The spooked animal tried to rear, throwing the man in the saddle off balance. Another curse, this one in Russian, pierced the air. Their assailant tried to spur forward, but Alex hung on and lunged for the man’s hand. The shot aimed at Octavia went just wide. With a roar of anger, their assailant twisted and lashed out a vicious blow at Alex’s head with the butt of his pistol.

Alex ducked and with a quick punch knocked the weapon from the man’s hand. At the same time, he grabbed hold of the villain’s sleeve and started to drag him off his mount—but a flailing boot caught him square in the chest, knocking him to his knees. Still, his grip didn’t loosen and the two of them ended up locked in a furious struggle amid a churning of snow and pine needles on the frozen ground.

A second rider appeared among the trees. Octavia managed to shout a warning before she had to duck for cover. However, she saw that Alex had gained the upper hand in his battle. He drew back a fist and in a flash and landed a hard blow to their assailant’s jaw that snapped his head back and caused him to drop like a sack of stones. Then, mindful of the new danger, Alex rolled quickly to his right, just as a bullet sent up a spray of frozen dirt into the air.

The new attacker, recognizable as the leader of the band by his distinctive drooping mustache, brought his skittish mount under control in the tight space and maneuvered with practiced skill for a better angle of attack on Alex.

Octavia spotted something jutting out from the wool sash wound around the fallen assailant’s coat. “Alex! There’s a second pistol in your assailant’s coat!”

Alex dodged to one side, then flung himself at the prostrate body. In one motion he drew the weapon, rolled, and squeezed off a shot.

The horse, suddenly riderless, whinnied in fright. Octavia took two steps forward, then her knees nearly buckled at the ghastly sight of the leader’s bloodied face and shattered skull..

Somewhere close by there was an agitated shout, then the snapping of branches and the dull thud of hoofbeats receding.

“Don’t look,” snapped Alex as his arm came around her waist and spun her roughly away. “Catch hold of those horses. We shall need them.” He took one glance at her wan face and gave her shoulders a shake. “Come, don’t turn missuss on me now! It’s best to be away from here as quickly as possible.”

In a near daze, Octavia obeyed his curt order while he made a quick search of the dead man’s coat. He stuffed several items into his pockets, then gathered up the pistols and came back to her side.

She swallowed hard and tried to control the trembling of her hands. Alex looked furious—and with good reason. Once again he had been forced to risk his neck for her.

He must be getting heartily tired of it.

“I ...” she began

Ignoring her halting words, he shoved all but one of the weapons into the saddlebags of one of the captured horses. “Stay here while I get the children,” he barked.

He quickly returned with both of them in his arms. Emma was whimpering softly. Nicholas, too, had steaks of tears on his cheeks though he made no sound. Alex smoothed the tangle of hair off the girl’s pale brow and whispered something in her ear before placing her in a saddle. He took Nicholas around to the other mount, but before lifting him in place, he set the boy on the ground and squatted down so that their faces were only inches apart. A short exchange followed, ending with Nicholas nodding solemnly and essaying a brave smile. Then he, too, was made ready for the ride.

Alex made one more trip to strip their belongings from the tired pack animals. When everything was fastened securely on their new mounts, he finally turned his attention back to Octavia. His eyes were narrowed, and she noted they were flooded not with the gentle compassion he had just displayed with the children but some other emotion—something, she imagined, between anger and exasperation.

“Hell’s teeth! What did you think you were doing?” he demanded, through gritted teeth.

“My reticule,” she stammered. “My pistol was in my reticule.”

“Good Lord, what did you think you were going to do with it? With your aim, only the trees would have been in danger.”

Her chin came up a fraction. “Well, you had no weapon yourself. I had to do something.”

“You did quite enough by braving those bullets to drag Nicholas to safety.” His tone had softened somewhat. “In the future, kindly leave any sort of dealings with firearms to me.”

She turned visibly paler at his words.

Alex took hold of her shoulders, none too gently. “Are you all right?”

She nodded, averting her eyes from his. “What of … him?” she whispered, catching sight of the unconscious assailant.

“He’ll have a long walk back to the road during which to reflect whether to choose a new line of work.” His breath came out in a harried sigh. “The children have had quite a shock. They need to recover with a rest and perhaps something hot to drink. But not here. Are you sure you can manage?”

She could have used a hug or murmured words of encouragement herself, but she merely set her jaw and nodded an assent.

“Then up you go.” He boosted her up behind Nicholas. “And Octavia,” he added softly.

She looked at him expectantly. Perhaps now he might say something kind. After all, she thought, she had received just as big a shock as the children.

“Don’t ever do anything as damn foolish as that again,” he growled.

So much for being cuddly and irresistible.

Hell’s teeth, repeated Alex to himself as he watched Octavia’s head duck to avoid another drooping pine bough. His heart had nearly stopped on seeing the pistol aimed at her breast. Good Lord, she had nearly been killed because of her gritty courage! Why couldn’t she be like other females and faint … or at least collapse in a fit of vapors, so he could protect her without having to resort to such melodramatic efforts?

He gave a slight shake of his head. Really, this was beginning to outdo even the worst sort of horrid novel. Perhaps he should take up pen and paper himself—the tale he could write would have the ladies of the ton swooning in droves, allowing him to supplement his quarterly allowance quite nicely.

The only trouble was, any sensible person would dismiss the plot as ridiculous beyond belief.

The ghost of a smile quickly disappeared as his thoughts turned back to what had just occurred. The children and Octavia were depending on him, and he had nearly brought them all to grief because he hadn’t sensed the danger. He tried to take a deep breath but suddenly his chest felt as if it were encircled by an iron band, slowly, inexorably twisting tighter and tighter.

What if he had failed once again to save those he cared for?

His eyes pressed closed, and the realization washed over him that if such a thing had happened, he might well go ahead and blow out his own brains because he wouldn’t be able to live with himself. He stifled a groan as a wave of black despair threatened to engulf him, like it had so many other times?—

“Alex?” A small voice cut through the darkness.

He forced his lids open. Emma had turned to regard him, her eyes wide in awestruck admiration. “That was the bravest thing I have ever seen, the way you knocked that horrible man down before he could hurt Miss Hadley.”

His jaw dropped slightly.

“And then, how you laid him out without so much as batting your eye,“ she went on, in a reverent tone. “So you could blast that other villain to the devil. Why, you are quite the best hero in the whole world.”

Octavia had reined in her horse at the crest of a small ridge so that the last of Emma’s words drifted up to her and Nicholas. The boy was quick to add his own effusive praise.

Alex found his throat was so tight he could barely draw a breath.

“Hmm, “she murmured , her voice rich with a sly humor. “Yes, I suppose we must give him the edge over Valancourt.”

A rumble of a chuckle started in his throat as he found he could suddenly breathe again.

“You were, you know,” she added softly, her voice no longer teasing.

When his brow rose in question, she went on. “Wonderful, that is. Quite wonderful.”

He swallowed hard as one bedraggled governess and two dirt streaked twelve-year-olds, leaves and pine needles clinging to their garments, regarded him with glowing smiles. Here they were, as good as lost in a vast wilderness, stuck in a foreign country with a murderous uncle on their trail and the entire French army not far behind.

So why was he feeling like the luckiest man in the world?

“But Alex?—”

He looked up up.

Octavia did her best to imitate his growl. “Don’t ever do anything as damn foolish as that again.”

He had to choke down a burble of laughter as she gave him a wink and then set her mount into a brisk trot.