Chapter 34
Chapter Thirty-Four
Philippe had stood brooding by a small stream since after Alex had left.
Laurent and Henri were paused uncertainly up the way, waiting for him to make a move, but Philippe was stuck, kicking rocks into the water.
What in the world had just happened, he wondered.
How had she gone so quickly from his arms to the road leading away from him?
He felt like she was still punishing him for what had happened so long ago, though he had tried and tried to make it clear that he could never want anyone else.
He took a stick and chucked it as far as he could.
It ricocheted an echo across the mouth of the canyon.
She was so damn stubborn that she wouldn’t even listen to him.
He folded his arms and looked down the stream, deeper into the canyon.
Well, he supposed, he hadn’t actually said anything to her.
But couldn’t she tell how he felt by his actions?
He’d given himself completely to her, and he knew she had done the same.
Yet here they were again. Would it really matter if he spoke the words to her and told her that he loved her?
This was absurd. Why was he letting her get away?
Maybe he hadn’t paid his penance yet and won back her trust, but he would not give up.
What mattered in this life if he could not spend it with this ornery, difficult, crazy woman in pants that he was so in love with it hurt?
If need be, he would spend his days proving to her that he was worthy of her attention.
“Men,” he said, returning to the spot where they rested. “I am going to retrieve our guide.”
Laurent grinned. Henri smirked. “Aye, hurry up then,” he said, conceding a smile.
“Head to Aliette,” Philippe said. “I hope to meet you there soon.”
With that he was off. He hoped she had run straight and not left any difficulties in her trail, but if she escaped the Earth, he would trail her across the stars.
He raced his horse hard, imagining what he would say to her.
He would make her listen. He would make her understand.
He would tell her that he loved her and that he would give her anything to stay by his side.
How could she think that he could want another woman after everything that had happened between them?
She was all he wanted and certainly more than he could handle.
He tracked her back across the road and deeper into the woods.
With every moment and every step of his horse, he was more fevered, more desperate, more determined to tell her all the things he hadn’t said.
As he came upon one of the trails which led towards Ponce, he had to pause.
He looked around. Something was strange.
He moved the horse a few steps ahead, scanning the scene.
There were no birds chirping. There were no insects buzzing.
He hopped off his horse and looked to the ground.
It was muddled and kicked about. He looked to the side and saw trampled vegetation, crushed stalks and leaves in the dirt.
There had been a struggle here. There was hoof print and the tread of man as well.
His heart began to pound. He stomped across the ground, following the progression of footsteps. She’d been gravely outnumbered.
Then he saw it—blood—splattered across a tree trunk.
He touched it, still wet. He couldn’t imagine a more helpless feeling than the one that settled in his chest. He looked down the path, rubbing the streak of blood between his fingers.
They didn’t try to cover anything up, which meant they expected no trouble, or they hoped to be followed.
Either way, they would have a nightmare coming after them.
This was his fault. His fault for so many reasons. He hadn’t done his job because he was lovesick. He’d let the Marquis think he’d gotten away with his crimes in order to trap him at a later date, but he’d misjudged the situation, and he’d let her go off into danger, completely alone.
Philippe mounted his horse and took off down the path, a demon screaming inside of him.