“Will you insist I marry you, even if I don’t want to?” There was pain in her eyes now and it told of an inner turmoil so arduous that Michael’s heart wept for her.
“No,” he said simply. It was an honest answer, but the look of relief that flooded her every feature at the sound of that one word was like a punch to his stomach. With nothing more left to be said, he turned around and walked away, his heart struggling against the pain.
He wasn’t giving up though—far from it. He was just as stubborn as she was by nature, if not more so. He’d already decided that she was the woman he wanted by his side for the rest of his life and nothing was going to change that. She’d just made it more difficult for him to accomplish it, but hey, he’d always loved a good challenge.
It was too bad that all his efforts had been for nothing. He’d been so certain of himself, so confident. He grinned as he recognized in himself her greatest fault—cockiness. Well, perhaps it wasn’t entirely for nothing. He’d laid the groundwork, now he just had to set about tearing down that damn wall she was so adamant about building around her heart. But more than that, he had to make her face the way she truly felt about him. He knew she cared for him and that she desired him . . . now, if only he could make her love him.
He needed help, he realized, and he knew just who to ask. Well, there really wasn’t anyone else, but as it happened they were perfectly suited for the job. “Ryan, William.” Both men looked up at him as he came toward them. They were sitting on the terrace, each with his own glass of beer. “I’d like to speak with you for a minute.”
William eyed him momentarily before a grin spread its way across his face. “Is this about our idiot sister?”
“Oh, this is going to be fun,” Ryan chimed in as he pulled a chair out for Michael to sit on.
“She’s not an idiot,” Michael admonished half-heartedly while he took the proffered chair and sat down.
“Yes, she is,” William insisted. “She’s lying to herself and if we can all see it as clear as day, then why the hell is she unable to?”
“Do you know why she’s acting this way?” Michael asked, ignoring William’s question. He placed his elbows on the table and rested his chin against his folded hands. “At one point when we talked, I got the distinct feeling she’s terrified of something—something relating to your mother’s death.”
William looked suddenly wary. “Look, it’s just a theory, that’s all.”
“Please tell me,” Michael said. “I need all the help I can get.”
“Has she bolted?” William asked. When Michael nodded, he let out a long sigh. “How did she do it?”
“She just asked if I’d force her to marry me. I wouldn’t have it in me to do that to her, in spite of the duel. I couldn’t lie about it, so I imagine the wedding’s off.”
William seemed to consider this turn of events for a moment. “Let her go,” he finally suggested. “Give her the freedom she wants and keep your distance. Refrain from talking to her if at all possible. Give her the illusion that you’ve completely retreated, and then wait for the right moment to strike.”
“She might think that he’s lost all interest if he does that,” Ryan said.
“Yes, but showing interest will be worse. I think Alexandra’s terrified of falling in love. She recognized the possibility for it with you, Michael, so she cut all emotional ties to you before it was too late. I’m not sure why she’s so afraid exactly, though I do believe it’s related to Mama’s death, just as you have suggested.” William leaned forward in his chair, his arms folded before him on the table. “You have to understand—things have been very difficult on the home front since she passed, especially for Alex, I would imagine. Papa was a wreck for a long time after, and while Ryan and I were able to escape back to school, Alex remained behind with a father who barely had enough energy to get himself out of bed in the mornings. As unfortunate as it is, she was neglected at a time when she should have been introduced to society.”
“He should have made more of an effort,” Michael said, suddenly quite angry at how Bryce had ignored his daughter.
“He sees that now,” William said, with a sad look in his eyes. “And he blames himself for it every day. At least he’s making a real effort to make it up to her though.”
“And he’s doing this by allowing her to go on this mission?” Michael sounded appalled.
“You know her character,” Ryan put in. “Papa wouldn’t have stood a chance of putting her into a ball gown, much less of actually dragging her to a ball. Instead he focused on mending their relationship. When this situation arose, he probably saw an opportunity to indulge a longtime dream of hers.”
“By sending her into harm’s way?” Michael’s voice was dubious to say the least.
“She’s the best, and our father recognizes that,” Ryan paused for a moment. “He’s a good man, Michael, but even good men make mistakes.”
“Ryan and I are on your side,” William said. “We’ll do what we can to help, but it will have to wait until we return to England. Let her realize how much she already cares for you. I can’t promise anything, but knowing our sister and how willful she can be, I believe it’s your best shot. Until then, just keep out of her way. She needs space.”
With that in mind, Michael refrained from seeking Alexandra’s company. He agreed with her brothers’ reasoning, so he did his best to set his mind to the task at hand. He’d just never considered how impossibly difficult such a feat would be.
When they reached Thuin on the fifteenth of June, right on the heels of Bonaparte and his army, they were forced to acknowledge that the French general’s plans weren’t at all what they’d thought them to be. Instead of heading toward Mons, he was now gunning for Charleroi.
“What do you suppose Bonaparte’s up to?” Alexandra asked while her mare tossed her head in an eager show of impatience. They’d found a grove of elm trees upon a hillock from which they had a clear view of the French as they busily went about setting up camp.
“It looks as though he might be aiming for a more centralized position between the two opposing armies,” William muttered, before adding hastily, “There’s no time to lose. We have to inform Wellington right away. If he expects an attack to come from Mons, just as we did, then his troops will be gathered in completely the wrong place.”
Fully aware of the already darkening sky, they turned their horses about, hoping to make it to Brussels by nightfall. They didn’t get far, however, before the sound of approaching hooves was upon them. Someone had seen them and the alarm had been sounded. There were now five French soldiers barreling after them at top speed, dirt churning beneath their horses’ hooves.
Their intent was unmistakable.
“Yah!” Alexandra cried, spurring her mare into a faster gallop. She sensed another horse coming up beside her and knew without looking that it was Michael. But where were Ryan and William? With a quick glance over her shoulder, she spotted them. Their horses had been slower to start and the French were rapidly closing in on them. Rather than flee, they were now pulling on their reins and turning their mounts around, drawing their swords and preparing to do battle.
“They need our help,” Michael called, clearly as aware of the brothers’ precarious situation as Alexandra was. He pulled roughly on his own reins with the apparent intention of turning back so he could assist them. “Ride on, Alex.”
And what? Ride to safety while you three get yourselves killed? Not bloody likely.
Burying her heels in her horse’s sides, she pulled on the reins with all her might until she felt the mare skid to a halt. Turning about, her heart began a frantic gallop at the sight that greeted her. Horses and men seemed to thrash about, swords flashing, slicing the air before clanging together as metal touched metal.
“I thought I told you to ride on,” Michael yelled in annoyance when Alexandra joined in.
They’d been three against five only a moment earlier, but her arrival had evened the score. “You can’t seriously have thought I might listen to such a ridiculous command.” She dove forward, slashing at the Frenchman in front of her. A wide gash appeared in the sleeve of his jacket.
“Our primary objective is to reach the duke,” William called out as he parried a blow from his opponent. “All will be lost if we get ourselves killed.”
“What do you suggest we do?” Ryan asked. He was fighting two men at once and was rapidly beginning to tire.
“Group together on Michael’s side—when I give the command, we’ll have to make a run for it,” William replied.
It was a dangerous plan indeed, for the French were quick to react. If they happened to grow suspicious, they’d kill them all with ease before they managed to get away safely. Alexandra maneuvered her way over to Michael, her sword still engaged with the same Frenchman, though he’d now lost a few brass buttons on his jacket as well.
And then William gave his command. Alexandra didn’t hesitate one second. Spurring her horse onward, she flew forward. A second later, she sensed another rider at her side. It was Michael. But then a shot sounded, and then another. Realization dawned. Her brothers didn’t stand a chance. They were too far behind and were losing ground fast. She had to help them. “Take the lead,” she yelled at Michael. “My horse will follow.”
As soon as he was in front of her, Alexandra slowed her horse to a steadier pace. Then, with practiced ease, she wound the reins around her hand to tighten the grip and hold the mare steady. Grabbing onto the front of the saddle, she swung herself around, her knees braced hard against her horse’s flanks for support. She could see the look of horror on her brother’s faces as they saw what she was up to, but she ignored them. This was a matter of life and death—common sense didn’t factor in.
Drawing her pistol, she took steady aim and fired, her shot felling a soldier who’d closed in on Ryan. But it was a single shot pistol and she would have to reload. Not only did that take time but it was also a difficult task to accomplish while riding backward.
She had an idea.
“Hand me your pistols,” she shouted across at her brothers as they came up beside her.
“What the hell are you thinking, Alex?” William yelled, though he wasted no time on doing what she asked.
There was no time left to talk. The French were upon them and they were mad as hell now that one of their own had been hit. Two were getting ready to fire, so Alex aimed, and took her best shots, felling both of them. Two remained.
Unwilling to risk her life to reload, Alexandra judged the distance between herself and the oncoming soldiers. She might just be able to do it if she dared. No time to think.
Swinging back around, she ground her heels against her horse’s sides and hauled with all her might on the reins, bringing her about to face their attackers head on. At little more than a moment’s notice, Alexandra reached for her sword and dagger, holding one in each hand and thrusting them out at the oncoming men as momentum carried them forward. She saw the fear in their eyes the second before her blades touched them. They knew what came next and then it happened—blood splattered across her as each man was sliced open, their screams of despair dying in a horrific gurgle of bubbling liquid. Alexandra closed her eyes and dropped her weapons—she could not bear to have a reminder of such an awful moment, but at least it was over. Ryan and William were safe.