Page 53 of The Storybook Hero
“I should be happy to take her now,” offered Octavia, who had come up close behind them.
Alex turned to find her regarding him with an expression that caused his stomach to give a little lurch.. “I don’t mind,“ he replied rather shakily. “I shall take her back to the camp.”
The look of gratitude she gave him sent another sort of emotion coursing through him.
Damnation, he thought. It was getting cursed difficult to ignore the growing attraction he was feeling. But he must. There were too many other things to concern him at the moment than the state of his heart.
Like the state of their necks.
They hurried through the simple meal and began to ready their things for the journey. As Emma lugged her small bag out of the shelter and handed it over to Alex, a heavy item fell to theground. A guilty look pinched at her face “I … I know you said we must only bring essentials, but?—”
He gave her a surreptitious wink and slipped it back in with her other belongings. “But of courseThe Mysteries of Udolphois an essential for this trip. I, for one, can’t wait to who overcomes the greatest of perils—us or them.”
Octavia choseto walk rather than ride the plodding mount. Though the brambles and underbrush made progress difficult, it was better than being bounced like a sack of grain by the animal’s uneven gait. The sky had become even darker, forcing her to keep an eye on the horse ahead to keep from getting lost. Alex, too, had opted to go on foot, though his arm remained curled around Emma’s waist to steady her seat on the makeshift saddle. The girl seemed quite recovered from her mishap. From what snatches of conversation drifted back to her, it appeared that Emma was deep into explaining the latest threat to the hero and heroine in Mrs. Radcliffe’s novel from the dastardly Montoni.
That Alex tolerated such childish chatter without complaint made Octavia smile, despite their own travails. To think that only a few days ago she had thought him a rather shallow rake. A charming one to be sure, but not a man who gave much thought to anything other than his own desires. How wrong she had been!
Last night he had shown himself capable of feeling pain and remorse—and perhaps most touching of all, a fear of being alone in the world. In that, she mused, he was not so very different from Emma—or herself.
And just now, he had revealed a gentle, compassionate side of his character. Octavia hadn’t imagined that he would be so good with children, but the flash in his eyes as Emma had wound her thin arms around his neck had been unfeigned.
A sigh. If a man had looked at her in such a manner, she would have found her insides melting into mush! Perhaps it was best that such a thing was nigh on impossible. Even if she hadn’t warned him off in no uncertain terms, his mild flirtations were merely that—a game that men and women played in which both of them knew the rules, as well as the boundaries.
So why did her mind keep straying beyond those confines?
That he was devilishly attractive was undeniable. But it was more than his broad shoulders and chiseled features that had her emotions in a state of turmoil. Rather, it was the unexpected sensitivity, which along with a keen intelligence and quick wit had her … well, had her gushing like some flighty chit in a horrid novel.
Forcing a deep breath, she vowed to put such unsettling aside and concentrate on the problems at hand. It was well she did, for a hidden outcropping of rock nearly sent her sprawling.
Alex whipped around at the sound of her stumble, his expression of concern softening into a smile of encouragement on seeing she was still on her feet. In fact, Octavia thought she detected a wink before he turned back to guiding his tired horse through yet another thicket of densely knit boughs.
Despite her resolve, she couldn’t quite help wondering what it was he saw when he looked at her. An aging governess with the pinched features of a disapproving harridan? No, he had compared her with a tiger, and the comparison made her feel rather low. Was she really all roar and sharp claws? For once in her life she found herself wishing she were somehow more like a kitten—softer, cuddlier, sweeter. In other words, all the thingsshe abhorred in those of her sex. She might judge such qualities ridiculous, but men seemed to find them … irresistible.
It would be nice to be found irresistible?—
A loud crack, like the snapping of a branch, jarred her back to her senses.
Octavia looked up, just in time to feel the whoosh of air on her cheek as a bullet whistled by mere inches from her cheek. Alex bellowed a warning to get down as he grabbed Emma from atop her mount and thrust her into the cover of the underbrush. Heedless of her own safety, Octavia reached for Nicholas and jerked him from the makeshift saddle. Another shot rang out, causing the boy to cry out in terror.
The gnarled roots of an old Sitka spruce offered some small measure of protection. She dragged him down behind the twisted wood, pausing a moment to catch her breath. There was no sound, save for the pounding of her heart, but she had no allusions that the danger was past. She eyed their old horse, who was still standing where she had left him, flanks quivering, too tired to bolt. Her reticule! she thought. She needed her reticule! Inside it was the pistol, their only chance at fighting back.
“For God’s sake, Octavia, stay where you are,” cried Alex as she slithered away from the spruce and scrambled to her feet.
A dark shape exploded from shadows, coming straight for her. Even in the faint light, she caught the glint of steel as the rider raised his pistol to take dead aim.
“Damnation!” came the muffled shout. Alex was moving with even greater speed toward her and managed to catch their assailant’s shaggy stallion by its bridle and yanked its head to one side.
The spooked animal tried to rear, throwing the man in the saddle off balance. Another curse, this one in Russian, pierced the air. Their assailant tried to spur forward, but Alex hung on and lunged for the man’s hand. The shot aimed at Octavia wentjust wide. With a roar of anger, their assailant twisted and lashed out a vicious blow at Alex’s head with the butt of his pistol.
Alex ducked and with a quick punch knocked the weapon from the man’s hand. At the same time, he grabbed hold of the villain’s sleeve and started to drag him off his mount—but a flailing boot caught him square in the chest, knocking him to his knees. Still, his grip didn’t loosen and the two of them ended up locked in a furious struggle amid a churning of snow and pine needles on the frozen ground.
A second rider appeared among the trees. Octavia managed to shout a warning before she had to duck for cover. However, she saw that Alex had gained the upper hand in his battle. He drew back a fist and in a flash and landed a hard blow to their assailant’s jaw that snapped his head back and caused him to drop like a sack of stones. Then, mindful of the new danger, Alex rolled quickly to his right, just as a bullet sent up a spray of frozen dirt into the air.
The new attacker, recognizable as the leader of the band by his distinctive drooping mustache, brought his skittish mount under control in the tight space and maneuvered with practiced skill for a better angle of attack on Alex.
Octavia spotted something jutting out from the wool sash wound around the fallen assailant’s coat. “Alex! There’s a second pistol in your assailant’s coat!”
Alex dodged to one side, then flung himself at the prostrate body. In one motion he drew the weapon, rolled, and squeezed off a shot.
