Page 75 of The Rebellious Countess
The lady disappeared from the establishment with the privateer. It remains unclear if this was Mr. Drake’s first mate, or a member of the crew from another ship docked that day named the Confiance. That ship is known to help French citizens in need of asylum. The Confiance should have arrived at Pembroke Dock by the time you receive this missive. I have dispatched a colleague to determine if MissMáira returned on that voyage. I am hopeful that she has indeed returned and is currently under your protection.
I have also learned that Alexandre Baptiste Reynard Beaumont, Comte Legrand, and Napoleon’s Hussar General and leader of the Hellish Brigade, is on his way to execute the Earl of Astley. Hag was desperate to keep Legrand from leaving, and did everything in her power to keep him in Le Conquet. As I await more news on Miss Máira, I will attempt to learn about the earl.
Your faithful servant,
Mr. Johnathan Payne
—A letter from Bow Street Runner, Mr. Johnathan Payne, hired to locate Máira Blair, to Nashford Harding, Duke of Ross
Elias glared at the man who dared to threaten his wife. The Circassian shashka blade causing blood to leak from her neck was almost as famous as the hussar who held it. The saber was known for its ability to cut a man in two with its finely made steel. The slightly curved blade was as long as any saber, but the craftsmanship surpassed anything most of the Continent had ever seen. More deadly than Elias had ever seen, until now.
“It seems I’m at a disadvantage. You know who I am, but I have yet to make your acquaintance.” Despite the politeness of his words, his tone held all of the anger he felt for the man holding the shashka to Máira’s delicate neck.
The hussar laughed, his voice full of the joy he was known to display in battle. “Ahhh, your mother has not shared the identity of the man who inhabits her bed. I must thank her for her discretion.”
“There have been many men who’ve shared my mother’s bed after my father died.” It was a lie. Only one man had. The general of the hussars, the leader of the infamous Hellish Brigade. Hagmay not have shared this man’s identity, but Tomás had. This man was dangerous, and he worked for Napoleon alongside his grandfather.
“From my understanding, your father was murdered by your grandfather for being a spy.”
Máira gasped, but Elias didn’t flinch. He’d moved beyond the pain his grandfather had inflicted.
“Forgive me. That was rude of me to bring up such a painful memory. I am Alexandre Baptiste Reynard Beaumont, Comte Legrand. At your service.”
Elias nodded but showed no recognition of the beloved hero of France. Only Murat and Napoleon himself were more popular than this general, who loved women like he loved his liquor—in quantity. Hag was lucky she hadn’t acquired the pox.
“Remove the blade from my wife’s neck, Legrand.” Elias could taste the blood on his lips. It was his own, but the rage inside him demanded he taste another’s. Specifically—the blood of his mother’s lover. He had warned Hag about playing with that particular fire.
“Not before your lovely wife removes her knife fromle capitaine’sflesh. It seems to be drawing blood. Or is that her blood. It’s hard to tell at this angle.”
“Sébastien, go back to our baggage.” The saber resting against Máira’s skin cut into her flesh with every word. Each causing another drip of blood to drop as she spoke. Yet despite the obvious pain the saber caused, she did not flinch in the least as she looked at the boy hanging onto Elias’s back like a monkey.
“But—”
“Do as she says,” Elias ground out, in as vicious a tone as he had ever used on another living soul. “Do you not see the blood dripping down her neck?”
The boy was gone in an instant, scrambling off his back.
“If you would be so kind as to remove your person off my hussar, I would be ever so grateful.”
“Only if your saber follows my withdrawal. If it does not, she will cut through his neck as if it were a holiday feast until she reaches the bone of his spine.” He willed her to show no fear, and in that moment, it was as if she read his thought, for as he concentrated on her, she lifted her defiant gaze up to the man who threatened her life.
“My husband is correct. I have always wanted to carve a pig.” She turned her sneer on the man beneath him and for the first time, he saw uncertainty in the hussar’s eyes. Every hussar had a certain death wish to die in battle, but to die at the hands of a beautiful young woman as small as Máira, well…that was not the death of honour any soldier had envisioned for himself.
The man lording his power over all of them laughed, his face full of joy at the scene before him. He was an oddity Elias wasn’t certain he could trust. He winked at Máira as if this was just a joke between friends, and with a slight bow of his head said, “I believe your husband and I have struck an accord, madame.”
“Not quite,” Elias interjected. “I want your word, as a gentleman, that no one will harm her or the boy.”
Once more the man bowed his head, but like the first time, his eyes never left Elias. “On my honour, monsieur.”
“Now, we have an accord.” Elias slowly sat up, his hands still gripping the hussar’s jacket, then he pushed to his feet and released it as the saber left Máira’s neck to rest on his own. He backed away slowly, not wanting to give the hussar on the ground room to turn the tables on Máira.
“Máira, remove your knife.” He hoped his voice sounded calm and rational and revealed none of the pleading his gaze relayed to her.
Máira stepped away, her hair falling from under her cap to cascade down her shoulders and hide the blood that marred herpale skin. Before she could get clear of the hussar, however, he grabbed her ankle and pulled her foot out from underneath her. Elias moved in her direction, but the shashka bit into his neck, stilling him to his spot, to watch in horror as his wife’s body fell backward, her head hitting the stone piazza with a thickening whack that made his stomach roll and his anger burn. Máira’s knife flew from her grasp and clattered across the piazza.
The hussar was on her instantly. Straddling her with his trunk-sized legs and holding her arms with his knees on her biceps. He laughed in her dazed face as she shook her head to clear the fog.
“Do not move,” Legrand growled, his blade dug into Elias’s neck, then disappeared as it whistled through the darkness with a speed faster than imaginable. The shashka returned to Elias’s neck before he could surge forward. Máira gagged, his heart stopped, the hussar on ground froze, then his head dropped to the ground, a wet slap before it rolled away. Máira pushed the man’s body from her own and was up off the ground in an instant. She wobbled. She didn’t scream. Didn’t drop in a fit of hysterics. She did nothing but sway and blink rapidly at Legrand, as Elias released the breath he didn’t know he’d held.
