Chapter 33
Chapter Thirty-Three
He was infuriating. Absolutely infuriating, she thought as she raced her horse away from him.
She darted through the woods at a quick clip, zipping through the trees as fast as the obstacles would allow her.
She needed distance, lots of distance. Her horse jumped a fallen log and she ducked a branch as she entered into denser coverings.
She’d tried. She’d tried to accompany the party and be of service in the final leg of the journey back to Chevalerie, but how could she deal with his pseudo-sweetness and her lingering feelings, feelings that were so much more profound than she had imagined they would be?
How dare he say that it had meant more to him; what game was he playing?
He’d gotten what he’d wanted. Why did he continue to play with her so cruelly?
He didn’t understand. He couldn’t. She had spent so many years hopelessly in love with that man, fighting with her emotions was like second nature to her now.
After last night, that amazing night they spent together, how in the world did he think she could watch him chase after other women?
It would be an agonizing death, worse than any slow bleed caused by a sword.
Instead, she would let the pain dull itself out to rebuild herself once more.
It wasn’t his fault. He wanted what he wanted.
Part of her was gratified that he at least would like to have her again, but she couldn’t be so close to him anymore.
When he had approached her just before and began speaking in his sugary tone, her breath had gotten stuck in her throat.
It was useless trying to fight her desire—the only solution was to be as far from him as possible.
The path ahead of her darkened with dense trees and brush, and she knew very well what was on the other end of it.
There would be work, she would travel, she would continue living a life in which she stuffed one appropriate dress into the bottom of her bag, below a stack of maps, her book on tactics, and some biscuits for the road.
It was a trifling and unfulfilling path.
How she was ready to be done with it all, but what else could she do?
She would not make a suitable wife to anyone, especially now, even if she could stomach getting close to another man. And what other options did she have?
Her horse galloped while she continued to mope.
Her mind flicked back to the night before, when he had stared so deeply into her eyes.
Was there any chance he truly wanted her and that she was being unreasonable?
She took a breath and tried to think about the situation as objectively as possible.
He’d had the opportunity to sleep with her the night she’d gotten drunk, but he hadn’t taken it.
That was an indication of his intentions, was it not?
He’d all but begged her to stay in Ponce when he left.
He’d come back from chasing their enemies to find her.
He went after her and left countless women behind to find her in her quarters the night before.
He had followed her wherever she went, actually.
She groaned and dropped her face into her hands, tugging on the reins of her horse.
He hadn’t been cruel to her. He’d been… really wonderful.
And it had felt like so much more than sex.
But what did she know? She’d had nothing to compare it to, only the stories she had heard from randy men on the road.
The bond she had felt the night before was indescribable and she could have died fulfilled in his arms, but she didn’t trust herself.
When it came to Philippe, her instincts were absolute shit.
She closed her eyes and tried to clear her head.
She slowed her horse and weaved through the thick trees.
Was it real, what had happened between them?
Did he want her, or was this a moment’s diversion?
Alex paused in the thought, wondering about Philippe and his intentions like she had a thousand times before.
This time, something was different. There was another feeling, swirling among all her questions and insecurities, like a firefly dancing through the mist. Alex clutched her hands against her chest, trying to draw it out.
The feeling was feeble at first, but there was power in it, and she knew that it carried something that she had been missing.
She squeezed her eyes shut and turned off her ears to the forest sounds around her, using all her senses and intuition and strength to call upon what was inside her.
The feeling began to grow, more fireflies sparking to life.
The light spread throughout her body and the thought buzzed in her ears.
Her mouth flooded with sweetness now that she was paying attention.
She took deep breaths to let it all settle, and she realized it was taking the form of Emily’s words.
They were telling her something—something she should have been saying to herself for a very long time:
This was not about what Philippe wanted.
For once in her goddamn life, it wasn’t about what Philippe wanted.
A lightning bolt exploded inside her and she finally understood.
In all this time, she had never asked herself what it was that she wanted.
Without shame or guilt or any of the other feelings that had prodded her along for so many years: what the hell did she want?
The realization opened her up like a blooming flower to a burst of sunshine, and her body flushed hot and cold all at once as she processed feelings that had, until that moment, never had anywhere to go.
She took a breath and asked herself, what did she want?
She knew it, immediately, and the answer was quite simple.
Alex wanted everything.
She wanted to forgive herself for ever feeling weak.
She wanted to be able to be vulnerable and scared.
She wanted safety. She wanted a home and to be welcome back in Chevalerie.
She wanted someone to rely on and for those she loved to be able to rely on her.
And, she could admit, she wanted Philippe.
All the wants and desires rippled through her in a wave of energy as though a dam had been broken.
And just like that she realized there was nothing stopping her from having all those things. She just had to let them happen.
She opened her eyes. The wind fluttered the leaves around her and suddenly everything looked different.
She had to get back. With a thrill inside her, she urged her horse around, full of purpose.
She would not wait another second to begin her life.
The horse neighed and raised its front feet as it responded to her jolt of energy.
Before Alex could get the beast up to speed, a familiar voice called out to her.
She turned and watched the hooded figure approach. “Hello dear,” he said. “Where is your company? It is dangerous to be out here alone.”
“Marquis?” she said, slowing to a stop and reaching forward to calm her horse. It was odd to see him there; it wasn’t right. “I have just stepped away,” she said. “But I shall rejoin them directly.”
“So, they are not far?”
“No,” she said, slowly reaching toward her blade. “Just down the way,” she lied. “What do you do out here by yourself? Surely the Marquis has an entourage to accompany him?”
“I do,” he said, lowering his hood. “They are with me now.”
One by one, she saw them. Giroux, along with, she assumed, the rest of the men Philippe had captured, now free from their imprisonment. She didn’t know why or how, but she knew she was in trouble.
“I’m sorry it had to happen like this,” said the Marquis. “I know how very fond my wife is of you. And for the record, she is quite unaware.”
The thought comforted Alex. She hoped her friend was spared any problems at the hand of this traitor, but how mad she was at herself for not seeing this sooner. Her mind had been far too clouded to recognize that he was a threat.
She unsheathed her blade. “It will not be easy to capture me, Marquis. I hope the outcome you desire is worth it.”
“Desperate men need little provocation,” he said.
Well, she thought, adrenaline charging her up like an electric storm; she would cause as many injuries as she could before going down.