Chapter 25
Chapter Twenty-Five
Alex had been having the laziest day of her life.
She’d spent most of the morning in bed dozing on and off.
Her head hurt, along with her stupid heart, and she had no motivation to do anything.
At about noon, she got up with no idea about where to go.
She felt a little better but wouldn’t ride today, at least not until she could get a meal down.
How did the men do this so well? She decided she would never ever drink again.
She had roamed the town market and wandered the stalls.
Many were still closed, but a few had wares out, and she was thankful for the distraction.
She ended up at a bakery where she bought a hunk of bread.
She took it to the main square and nibbled on it while she watched the people go about their business.
Her job was done, and she had no immediate prospects.
She had been hired to lead a party into the caves, locate the rebels and help create a map of the area.
When she woke up to find the company had moved on without her, she realized she had outlived her value and that she was once again alone.
She’d heard the rumors, too, about the horrific message in the night.
Ah, Maurice, Maurice. She dropped her head into her hands in mourning.
He didn’t deserve this fate, she thought, a sob of remorse coming up her chest. Had she contributed to it by being impaired the night before?
If only she had stayed alert, perhaps she could have teased out an indication of this danger.
She knew that Philippe had no choice but to lead the men out in the night as he had done.
She had let herself lose focus, and it had cost her the chance to be of service to the mission.
She had let her crew down. She had let the Duke and Duchess down. She let Maurice down. She felt ashamed.
Philippe’s letter also caused grief to sit in her heart.
Whatever had happened between them the night before had been something special.
But, of course, she hadn’t been clear-headed so the connection she thought had been there was probably an illusion.
He had asked her to wait for him. It seemed sincere, but how many years of her life had she spent waiting for this man to return?
How many times had he come back into her life as she had grown and ignored her?
She had spent her life trying to overcome her insecurities tied up in him.
And with this last encounter, she learned decisively, she couldn’t. Her only option was to go far away.
She tossed the last few pieces of bread to the birds causing them to flutter around her.
She decided her next move would be back to Chevalerie, to collect her payment and to see the Duke and Duchess one last time.
Then, she would need to get very far from Chevalerie and Philippe, because he made her act carelessly, to the detriment of those around her.
She would leave Provence, maybe France altogether.
She could go past the Alps and make a new life for herself, one where no one knew her.
She’d find a town where she could live out her days blissfully ignorant of Philippe’s doings and far away from anything that would remind her of him, the place she once called home, and all the ways that she had failed.
For a moment, it struck her hard that she would not see him again, but she buried the pain.
It was better this way. Even though she had decided she would like to indulge in knowing his body, if they had come together on this trip, either last night or another, it may have haunted her for the rest of her days.
No, she was lucky to have escaped that torture.
She would leave Ponce as soon as she felt able.
As soon as the headache went away and she could ride.
She imagined it couldn’t last for too long.
She’d seen enough hungover men to know that they came around after a day or so.
The sun dipped behind the buildings around the square and a shadow reached across her.
She watched the birds aimlessly as they pecked at crumbs before being startled by a passing man and flying off into the skies.
Perhaps later that afternoon she would go, or the next morning. Just as soon as she felt better.
At the same moment, in the deep western regions of Provence, Philippe’s obstinacy had paid off.
He had located the rebels. From his vantage point, he had caught sight of their movement.
The birds told the story, and for a large part of the afternoon, he’d watched plumes of feathers take off into the sky in a directed path of disturbance.
Then, just as the sun was drooping to kiss the canopy of the forest, Philippe’s patience was rewarded with the smoke of a distant fire curling into the sky.
The men, by then ready for his signal, were riding again in minutes, and it took less than a half hour to discover the rebels’ trail once more.
It was feeble at first, their targets still taking cautious steps at that point.
But soon the trail spread out, relaxed and ambled in an apparent sigh of liberation.
Philippe and his men moved confidently, over knotted hills and craggy streams, towards their target.
A few hours later, the night had yawned across the forest, but the fire gave the rebels away.
As soon as Philippe saw the glow, a mile or so out, he stopped all verbal communication.
They canvassed the area, built a base for the horses, and circled around to the southern side of the rebel camp.
It put them downwind and on a slight incline.
Geographically they were closer to Aliette than Ponce, having traveled quite a ways since the night before, but the rebels had chosen an obscure location with no major landmarks.
Surely, they wouldn’t be expecting any intruders this deep into the woods.
Philippe and his men made their own camp in total silence and with careful precision.
They wouldn’t know exactly what they were dealing with until the morning, but for now, Philippe was confident that they were in a safe place to survey their enemies.
His first instinct was to charge in while they slumbered, but that still would not give information about their leader, in addition to being foolhardy and dangerous.
Instead, he would hope that the leader would soon join his crew.
Either that or Giroux would leave to meet him, and Philippe would be there to follow.
For now, it was time to wait.
There would be no fire that night and very little communication.
They had a sad dinner of cold cheese and bread before stretching out to go to sleep.
Luc offered the first watch, which was a good thing because, as Philippe laid his head down, he realized he had not slept since dozing beside Alex in her bed.
His gut clenched with remorse as he thought about leaving her in Ponce.
It had been the worst possible moment to leave her, but he needed to go and do the job he had come to do.
Part of him believed she would understand and miraculously he would find her, but another, stronger part felt she was already gone.
All he had was hope. She had promised Emily she would attend the Marquis’ ball, so perhaps, even if she believed him to be the worst of scoundrels, a sense of duty would keep her there.
No matter what happened in the upcoming days, he would be at that ball like he promised in his letter.
If he could find her there, he would no longer hold back.
He would take that woman and make her his once and for all.
If she was gone, he would spend eternity searching for her.
Exhaustion had won by then, and he felt his consciousness slipping away.
As he lay there, he fought off the moment of sleep just to imagine her beautiful face and the way her body had felt in his arms for a little bit longer.
He stared into the infinite sky, his heart heavy with a mixture of longing and anxiety.
Just before he lost the battle with sleep, he could have sworn that he found her name written in the stars.