Chapter 6
“Are you sure you won’t mind if we stay here, Estelle? I admit it’s a lovely morning to go riding, but Adam and I, well…”
Linette faltered, blushing so prettily from just inside the door that Estelle could but smile at her sister.
“Of course I don’t mind. Get some rest, both of you.”
Linette nodded, her lovely face still bright pink, and glanced over her shoulder at something Adam said from deeper in the room.
Probably waiting for her to return to their bed, Estelle thought unabashedly, grateful for the deep love Adam exhibited for her sister.
She didn’t begrudge them time alone one bit.
She hadn’t seen Linette look so happy and healthy in months, Estelle so grateful, too, that Corie had suggested them for her chaperones.
“Adam said to enjoy yourself, but to stay close to the other riders. You’re not familiar with the countryside here—”
“I’ll be fine, don’t worry about me.” Estelle gave her sister a quick hug and then hurried to rejoin the footman waiting in front of her room to escort her to where the horses were saddled and waiting.
Breathless excitement swept over her to see Valentin again, even though she knew she must share him with his other guests…
including three very charming ones. Yet what did it matter?
Within a few days, he would announce their upcoming marriage, this immense castle—Bratavia, for that matter! —soon to become her new home.
“Miss Easton.”
Mattie had appeared at the door, a blush burning her freckled cheeks as she held something out to Estelle in her hand.
“I found it on the floor just now while I was tidying up, miss.”
Estelle felt her own face grow flame hot at the polished brass button in Mattie’s outstretched palm.
One of Valentin’s buttons from the military coat he wore last night. Oh, Lord, what must her lady’s maid be thinking? She wouldn’t know it was Valentin’s, but clearly some gentleman’s button…
Estelle had no clue what to say, so instead she nodded and took the button, clenching it in her hand. The footman stood several feet away, looking somewhat self-consciously at the floor, which made her face burn even hotter though she lifted her chin.
All she could do was pretend that nothing was amiss, and indeed, what did it matter?
Finding some comfort again that within days, Valentin would proclaim his intention to marry her, Estelle tucked the button into the pocket of her olive green riding habit and hurried after the footman.
Valentin glanced over his shoulder, chafing that Estelle rode so far behind him with a dozen or so courtiers and accompanying soldiers.
Meanwhile his other guests—namely Princess Ophelia of Luxembourg, Lady Ingrid of Bavaria, and Countess Alicia of Castile—maneuvered their mounts close to his prancing black stallion as if they had conspired to prevent Estelle from coming any nearer.
He did his best to appear unperturbed—but dammit, this charade was grating more fiercely upon him with each passing moment!
“Your Highness, such a lovely day for a ride,” enthused Lady Ingrid, a petite blond woman who expertly managed her frisky mare. “You were so gracious to suggest an outing for us—”
“Yes, so gracious,” Countess Alicia broke in much to Lady Ingrid’s evident annoyance.
A black-haired Castilian beauty with flashing dark eyes, the countess flicked her whip so that her horse trotted even closer to Valentin.
“I’ve heard you have the most exquisite gardens at Chateau de Chevalier. I would so love to see them—”
“Oh, yes, so would I!” interrupted Princess Ophelia, the most beautiful of the three women with her glossy red hair and flawless complexion, and the one most blatantly determined to ride right next to Valentin.
God help him, what he needed at that moment was a sudden thunderstorm to blacken the sky and bring this interminable excursion to an abrupt end!
Instead, the brilliant sunshine and endless expanse of blue seemed to mock him, offering him no escape in sight. He thought to pull up on the reins and fall back to ride closer to Estelle, but he didn’t want to incite a feminine riot.
With a low curse, he kicked his stallion into a gallop across a rolling meadow flanked on two sides by thick forest. The trio of prospective candidates hoping to become his bride squealed with surprise and followed him in lively pursuit.
Another glance over his shoulder told him that Estelle followed, too, leaning expertly over her sidesaddle as her mount, a powerful gelding, forged after them.
Glad to see that she didn’t appear daunted by the rude behavior of his other guests, Valentin cursed again as he thought of Hortense’s blatant move to exclude Estelle last night at dinner.
How he wished the coronation was tomorrow instead of three days away! The memory of her lithe form in his arms last night, the sweet taste of her lips, her tender touch was maddening to him, sleep proving almost impossible.
Even more unforgettable…the look in her luminous brown eyes when she’d agreed to become his wife, his chest feeling as if it might explode with joy and relief.
She hadn’t yet said the words, but he sensed with every fiber of his being that she loved him as much as he loved her.
That such intense emotion could have been forged from the moment he’d pulled her safely from the crashing waves, to grow only stronger over months of misery was a miracle to him…
and made him all the more impatient to make Estelle his bride.
He had only to endure another few days, Valentin told himself as he urged his lunging stallion onward with a sharp dig of his boot heels even as he heard alarmed shouting behind him.
Intuition gripped him, though he could not say why.
All he knew was that when he looked over his shoulder to see the courtiers and soldiers much further back, reining in their mounts and circling in confusion, his heart plummeted.
Where was Estelle?
“Oh, God, hang on, hang on!” Estelle cried out as she clung to her mount’s thick mane, the reins having slipped from her hands.
She hadn’t seen the rabbit dart in front of her until too late, the creature barely dodging out of the way as the gelding veered in surprise toward the trees, almost unseating her.
She could only hang on for dear life as her mount vaulted over a fallen log and surged into the forest at a breakneck pace.
The panicked animal careened around trees and snorted wildly while Estelle was certain she would tumble to the ground at any instant and be trampled to death. As her last hope, she entwined her gloved fingers in the gelding’s mane and yanked with all her might in a desperate attempt to control him.
Relief flooded her as the heaving animal finally began to slow down, but it was a piercing whistle that made the gelding buck his head and finally stop.
Stunned, Estelle couldn’t move for several moments and simply lay collapsed upon her mount’s lathered neck, struggling to catch her breath.
Only when she heard the cracking of a branch did she lift her head, her eyes widening in surprise at the young man reaching for the dangling reins who looked so much like Valentin.
Blond hair, tall, and with similar features, but with a hardness in his expression that strangely chilled her, though she couldn’t imagine why.
He was dressed so shabbily, too, she noticed now that she’d regained her composure, his coat threadbare with torn sleeves and streaked with dirt, his hair unkempt, and several days’ stubble shading his jaw.
Yet what drew her gaze was the pistol shoved into his belt as he eyed her shrewdly.
“Lost in the woods, miss?”
He’d spoken to her in French, and she shook her head, trying not to show the alarm rising inside her.
“My horse was startled by a rabbit. I’m sure my party is looking for me—”
“So you’re English.”
Estelle blinked at him, not surprised that her own imperfect French had given her away. She decided then and there it was best for this man to know exactly whom she was associated with so as to dissuade him from acting improperly toward her.
“Yes. I’m here for Valentin’s coronation—I mean, His Highness, Prince Valentin—”
“Valentin, is it?”
Spoken with an ugly sneer, Estelle felt cold fear suddenly clutch at her chest. Something in the manner in which he’d said Valentin’s name told her that the man must know him, but not in a good way at all. “Please, if you’ll just hand me the reins, I’d like to ride back toward the meadow.”
“Oh, I think not.”
He looked at her with such cruel appraisal that Estelle felt the blood drain from her face, though she fought to remain calm. “I-I don’t understand. I told you they’re surely looking for me—”
“Let them come. I’m sick of hiding in these damned woods and seeking bread and shelter from the few who don’t recognize me. You don’t know me either, do you?”
She shook her head, not liking at all that he’d drawn closer to her. “How could I? I only arrived from Cornwall a few days ago—”
“Cornwall. Just as I guessed. You’re the reason Valentin returned to Bratavia…you and your precious family. I can’t count the number of times he screamed your name when I used a hot poker to burn his skin—”
“Oh, God.” Convinced now that she was looking into the slate gray eyes of the devil, Estelle made a desperate lunge for the reins but he shoved her back atop the saddle, laughing.
An evil laugh as heartless as his gaze, his iron grip punishing on her arm.
“Such spirit, Estelle, I like it. Since we’re going to be spending so much time together, allow me to introduce myself. My father was Archduke Henri Chevalier, murdered by Valentin’s rescuers. I’m Gaston, his cousin.”
Estelle said nothing, her mind racing at what he’d just revealed, her stomach pitching.
Truly, she feared she was going to retch.
Yet she’d no more than swallowed against the sickening sensation when Gaston suddenly threw the reins over the gelding’s head and then hoisted himself into the saddle behind her.
“I haven’t seen Valentin since April. This meeting should be quite entertaining.”
With that, Gaston drew her forcefully against him with one arm while he steered the gelding in the direction of the meadow. He held her so tightly that Estelle couldn’t move, the stench of him overwhelming her. He must have seen her flinch because he laughed coldly.
“Yes, I stink. If not for Valentin’s constant patrols on Bratavia’s borders, I would have abandoned this wretched forest weeks ago. But with you accompanying me now, they’ll be only too happy to fall back unless they wish for me to slit your lovely throat right in front of them.”
Now Estelle did retch, lowering her head to one side while Gaston cursed vehemently behind her. He kicked the gelding into a trot even as the sound of raised voices carried to them, people anxiously crying out her name.
Heartsick, she was certain she heard Valentin calling out to her, too, his voice so strong and yet filled with apprehension.
She thought to cry out to him to warn him—dear God, what if Gaston had another evil intention in mind to harm Valentin?
—but the cold weight of a knife suddenly pressed to her neck made her stiffen with fear.
“That’s right, say nothing, do nothing, not if you wish to live.
I want to live, too, but I’ll die before Valentin throws me into the dungeon where he and his accursed father should have spent the last of their days.
One guard betrayed us—one guard with a weak stomach who opened the gates to Prince Renaud’s rabble! The wretched bastard!”
Gaston’s voice filled with hatred and near-crazed hysteria, Estelle squeezed her eyes shut and began desperately to pray as the shouting voices grew louder, closer.
Gaston kicked the gelding into a canter as if he was determined to burst upon Valentin and the rest of the search party and startle them all.
So he did, too. Astonished cries echoed in the forest, punctuated by a roar of such anguish that Estelle’s eyes flew open to the sight of Valentin riding straight toward them.
Until he saw the blade pressed to her throat.
Such a stricken look crossed his face that Estelle’s eyes blurred with tears. He jerked up on the reins, the stallion rearing on its hind legs and pawing at the air.