Page 76 of The Rebellious Countess
Mon Dieu, but she was magnificent. He wasn’t sure Hag could show as much ice in her veins at such a horrific sight. The sound of retching occurred behind him and Elias remembered Sébastien standing a mere fifteen feet away.
“My apologies to your wife and son, but Oudinot had always struggled with the concept of honour. I promised you, your wife would not be hurt. I keep my word.” His sincerity was genuine, Elias was certain. However, he still had an escape that must be executed before the tide rose any further and left them stranded in the exact same cell from which they had freed the earl.
“I appreciate your gesture, but the fact remains, your word was broken and for that I must call you out, Legrand.”
Legrand laughed, his bloody blade rocking against Elias’s throat. “You think that a gesture? To kill one of my finest hussars?”
He shrugged, ignoring the bite of the blade. “I think you believe it as well. Both of our honours yearn for satisfaction. Me—I demand it. My wife just experienced something no lady should.”
“Theladiesof France experienced far worse.”
“True, but we both know she is not French, and she has never treated the masses the way the French aristocracy has.”
Legrand’s grin grew, his laughter building as he swept his saber out and away from Elias with an elegant flourish. He bowed once more before addressing Máira. “Madame, your husband has challenged me to a duel. I would appreciate it if you would remove my hussar’s saber and give it to him, so that we may see this unpleasantness to an end.”
“No.” Máira’s voice still held ice, but was now somewhat brittle, the edges cracking.
Legrand quirked a brow. “No?”
“No. I will not let you kill my husband.”
Elias took a step in her direction, but Legrand’s saber pointed in his direction. Damn the man. He addressed his wife in a strong, yet calm tone, attempting to install as much iron in her backbone as possible. “Máira, he will not kill me. Have a little bit of faith in your husband. Please, my dear, get the saber. Focus on the task, not the body.”
Her lip trembled and he feared she would collapse. Yet once again, she steeled herself to the task at hand and retrieved the saber without hesitation. He smiled at her as she pressed it into his palm. The weapon was not the caliber of Legrand’s, but Elias was certain that despite his battered face, broken nose, and sore knuckles, he could and would defeat Legrand. He had way toomuch on the line not to—especially the woman standing in front of him.
He touched her face and gently kissed her precious lips. He would kiss her again, of that he was certain. Before Máira, he had never wanted a wife. Never desired to stay in one place, but for her, he would do anything and everything.
“A man should always have one final goodbye with his wife.”
Legrand’s words were meant to unravel, and for his wife, they did. Máira turned on him like a mother bear he had once seen protecting its cub. Elias grabbed her and kissed her hard. When he pulled away, he let his forehead rest upon hers. “Trust me in this. I will handle him. Go to Sébastien and the earl. When the fighting begins, head down the stairs. You’ll have to drag the earl, just keep his head from hitting.”
Máira clung to the lapels of his jacket. “No, I won’t leave you.”
“Máira, please. More soldiers will come. Trust me. I will join you.” He brushed his lips against hers and pushed her toward Sébastien without another glance. He had work to do. He had to have faith in her ability to make the decision to save herself, Sébastien, and Astley. If he died, he would die knowing he gave her a chance, but if he was the victor, no army could stop him from joining her.
“You have your mother’s confidence. It’s most appealing in a woman, is it not?” Legrand goated.
Elias refused to take the bait but instead waited for him to make the first move, and with a grin Legrand lunged. Elias shed the attack, blades clanging with impact as Legrand’s edge slid down his own. He immediately sloped to the left and parried, but Legrand was a true swordsman and deflected his blow with ease. Back and forth they fought, each deflecting blows, a test to their strength and stamina. Sweat poured down his brow and Elias swiped at it with his sleeve. Legrand was ten years his senior, butthe man was a seasoned soldier who loved the fight more than the victory.
Looking for an advantage, Elias retreated toward the abbey wall, taking advantage of the shadows to hide his expression. Legrand lunged, the tip of his blade slicing across Elias’s chest and scoring a point Elias could not afford to give. His borrowed jacket split. His shirt ripped. And his flesh tore.
He gritted through the burn as the wetness seeped into his clothing. Before he could launch an attack of his own, a long pipe swiped down upon Legrand’s arm, striking his wrist and wiping the grin from the general’s face.
Bone shattered with a deafening crack, the pipe struck the stone with its downward follow through. Legrand’s shashka clattered to the ground, his wrist shattered, his hand hanging down as if the only thing keeping it attached to his body was the casing of flesh.
Elias dropped and twisted around toward this new threat, wondering if it had missed its mark, or if Máira had ignored his instructions. The last person in the world he’d expected to see stood in front of him—his mother.
Hag stepped in front of him, raised her pipe again, but held it up in a defensive posture. He tried to push her aside, but she was having none of it despite her small stature. He had seen his mother fight, knew she could handle her own, but the men she confronted were normally her own size. Anyone larger faced Tomás and he was not there.
He tried reasoning with her. “Mother, step aside.”
“He will not raise his saber to me.”
“It’s not a saber,” Elias and Legrand replied as one.
He could hear the eye roll in his mother’s tone. “Leave it to men to argue while they’re both standing there injured.”
He stepped to the side of his mother and looked at the man standing before them, holding his arm and hand close to his chest.
