Page 46 of Once Upon a Reckless Rogue

That was it then. She had made her decision, and he must abide by it. He went back upstairs and sat on the bed. Staring out the window. She was gone. Gone from his life. He knew it was coming, but he thought of it more as a waving him off from the shore with a kiss kind of farewell, not this.

His first instinct was to go after her, but if she had wanted to explain her decision, she would have waited for him. He needed to redirect his thoughts to making his way to Cadiz now. He had sent a message through Carlos to Stafford—spymaster—to let him know he was still alive and making his way back to England.

Thomas spent the rest of the night carefully packing only what he needed and ordered some bread and cheese and wine to take with him. For all intents and purposes, it looked like he was going after his wife, but in truth he was just getting on with his life. His heart was battered and bruised, and by God he was angry, but he knew that giving in to those emotions would serve him no purpose.

*

Elena’s feet were sore, her eyes were dry and red from crying, and her heart, well she felt lucky it was still beating. She thought about going back to Christina and her village even though her house was nothing but charred remains. To return there felt like failure. So on to Cadiz. It was a gamble, and being a woman on her own was dangerous, but something compelled her to go in that direction.

Now that she was on the road, she wished she had taken the donkey. Her father’s bag was heavy, and although she had only taken what she needed, her clothes bundle was still a huge burden to carry on her back. The heat of the day made the journey even harder.

She longed for a large shady tree under which to rest. When she nearly tripped and fell, she realized that her vision was blurred. Tears had stained her top, and before she knew it, she was in the arms of a stranger. When she looked up to thank the stranger, her heart stalled.

*

Thomas loaded up the donkey and headed out of town, passing Elena’s grandmother’s house. Why couldn’t she have taken it? At least she would have been safe. He could only hope she had headed back to Benalmadena and her neighbor Christina and not Cadiz. The day was already blazing hot, his arm pained less each day, and his hand had nearly completely healed. Almost back to normal, not quite whole but still in a lot better shape than he had been a month ago. And he owed it all to Elena. Just thinking of her made his steps feel heavy. The quicker he got to Cadiz and on a ship back to England, the better off he would be. He could put this whole thing behind him and concentrate on what he needed to do when he got home.

He stopped in another small village to let the donkey drink and rest. He went and bought an orange. Perhaps the last one he would have for a long time. Again, he pocketed the seeds.

Back on the road, every step took him farther from the woman he loved. He wished he had told her how much he had come to love her. He had hoped that she knew it, but if she did, and she still left him, then her heart was not the same as his.

He turned his mind towards home. His ward, Lucinda, would still be hidden away in that school for young ladies. He could only hope. If her whereabouts were to be known, she would be in grave danger. Only Stafford knew where she was, as stated in his death envelope. And after all these months, he could only assume they thought him dead. Stafford would keep her safe at least, and he had to hold on to that.

He regretted the fact that his mother and sister would be mourning him. At least the house could not be taken from them, but would his army commission and end-of-life pension from the Ring be enough to keep them in comfort? These thoughts just went to show how much he had thought himself invincible. How stupid he had been.

Perhaps when he returned home, he would cash out his commission and return to be a landed gentleman and work the family estate, or at least learn how to work it. It would be nice not to have to watch his back every minute of the day.

“Bonjour, Capitaine Markham.”

Thomas froze. He knew that voice. It came from the side of the road beyond the donkey, and he moved his head just enough to see the man in his peripheral vision. Dushard! And he had Elena!

“Let her go,” he said in a growl.

“Oh, I do not think so. Mademoiselle Diaz and I have had a lovely bavarder, haven’t we?”

“Get off me, you disgusting cerdo.”

Elena had called Dushard a pig, but he was much worse than that. The man had no moral code, no sense of fair play. He went by his own rules, and Thomas knew he would not give up on seeking his revenge for escaping. The thought of him being a few days ahead had given them a false sense of security. He had to get him to let Elena go.

“She only did what you bid her. She kept me alive. Let her go—your concern is with me after all.”

“She must feel something for you to drag you out of that room. How she did it I will not hazard to guess, but the fact that you stand before me is evidence enough.”

“Had she felt something for me, why were we traveling separately? She has nothing to do with our business.” He dared not look at the fury upon her face for he could feel the force of it through his skin just the same. Was he mistaken? She was the one who left after all.

“Have you not shared your secrets with her while you bedded her? For shame.”

“Dushard. I will give myself up willingly if you will let her be on her way.”

“Will you indeed? You see, I have unfinished business with her as well.”

“Whatever it is, it would not be as important as the business you have with me, surely.”

“Certainly, that is true, but you see, she made me look a fool in front of my men and, well, that is something I cannot condone. There must be punishment.”

“Come, Dushard, if you let her go I will go easy on you. Kill you fast.”

Dushard laughed as he knew he would, throwing his head back as he did. Thomas lunged and pulled Elena out of his grasp and pushed her behind him. Dushard yelled his displeasure at being so easily duped and charged at him. Thomas jumped out of the way, nearly missing the knife that Duchard now held in his hand.