Page 11 of The Duke's Price
He built up the fire and put a pan over it, into which he poured oil from a flask out of his pack. A string of onions hanging by the fireside sacrificed one of their number to be chopped and added into the oil, then he found several crusty Spanish rolls in his pack, broke them into small pieces and dropped them into the frying pan, too.
His pack produced a long sausage of the type they called chorizo. Sliced, this too went into the mix, and finally, he dropped several eggs on top. Perry idly wondered how he had managed to carry eggs in his pack without breaking them, but the smell of the dish took priority over such idle curiosity.
It tasted as good as it looked, too, served though it was in an odd miscellany of chipped plates, bowls, and even a mug.
The horses were still safe inside their enclosure when dawn arrived. Perry had had a vague notion of a steed like those he normally rode—a noble creature with a lineage longer than Perry’s own, and his could be traced back to the Conqueror. These were not those horses. These animals were a tough mountain breed—short, stocky, intelligent, and nimble-footed.
Perry kept his opinion of their unprepossessing appearance to himself and concentrated on making friends with the one Fernando said would be his for the ride. “Malhumorado is the biggest fellow we have, English, and you are a big man,” he said. “He is an obstinate beast, though.”
Malhumoradotranslated as bad-tempered, which was not encouraging.
“His Grace can handle him,” said Walter, stoutly. “His Grace can ride anything.”
That put Perry on his mettle. If he was thrown, he would dent his valet’s pride as well as his own. Besides, the beast’s name amused him. Death would show he could ride Malhumorado.
Walter’s form of address reminded him of something else that needed to be agreed before they made their way down into France. “Monsieur De-Ath,” he announced, pronouncing both syllables in the Belgian fashion and pointing to himself. “Quentin De-Ath, merchant from Belgium, holidaying in France with his wife and daughter. My second wife,” he pointed to Miss Henwood. “Madame De-Ath.” The princess was next. “My daughter by my first wife, who was, shall we say, Spanish? Mademoiselle De-Ath.”
Miss Henwood nodded her agreement. The princess glared at him. Obviously, Miss Henwood had shared with her pupil what he expected in return for his help in their rescue, and the girl was not amused. She would just have to get used to it.
Fernando bowed. “Senor and Senora De-Ath. Senorita. We should be on the road. We do not know how long we have before they pursue us.
The horses agreed with that sentiment, clearly keen to put as much road as possible between them and the stockade in which they had been besieged. Since they were all competent riders, Fernando agreed to let the animals have their heads, at least for as long as the road was relatively smooth and flat.
Those conditions lasted until the pass opened out onto a steep mountainside and the road took a sharp turn. It must have been five or six miles from the stockade, and even Malhumorado was content to be reined into a walk.
After that, both riders and horses had to concentrate on picking a path up and down slopes and in between boulders, as the road narrowed to single file then widened again, curving with the mountain side and never the same from one stride to the next.
When their guide finally called a halt at a flat spot where they could see out into the plains, they had been riding for hours and were still negotiating the narrow windy road along the mountain range. “We will let the horses rest, while we have something to eat and perhaps a little siesta,” Fernando said.
Much though Perry wanted to hurry on to the plains, he had to agree. The horses had shown tremendous stamina, but they were tired. So was Perry, and if he was feeling the effects of the strenuous ride, Miss Henwood and the princess must be exhausted.
Perry’s plans to further Miss Henwood’s seduction would have to be delayed. The woman was exhausted to the bone and very likely aching from a long ride. When he did seduce her, he wanted her to be awake enough to enjoy it.
Fernandoand the horses left them in the mid-afternoon, just outside of a small village set among the foothills. Ruth dismounted with the others and walked a little to try to stop her muscles from seizing up. She had not ridden so far in years, and everything ached. In Las Estrellas, nothing was more than half a day’s ride from the castle.
Fernando said, “Follow the road. It is not far—perhaps a few minutes. There is an inn in the village, and you will be able to hire a carriage there.”
“How far by carriage to the nearest town?” the duke—De-Ath—asked.
“Two hours, perhaps?” Fernando answered. “But the ladies are tired, Senor.”
Ruth certainly was, but she also understood De-Ath’s reasoning. “Bella and I can continue,” she said. “If Don Carlos is chasing us—I hope he has gone after the good sisters instead, but if by some chance he has come after us—it will be easier to evade him in a town.”
De-Ath gave her an approving nod. “Exactly. If you feel you can manage it ladies, I think we should continue.”
Bella and De-Ath’s man, Walter, agreed, so that’s what they did. The carriage they were able to hire from the inn was a tired old thing, with worn springs, tattered upholstery, and an elderly postillion. But the horses were good enough, and they made it to Saint Gerard before dark.
Once there, De-Ath refused to stay at the inn to which the postillion took them. He shouldered his own bag and picked up Ruth’s, and Walter did the same for Bella. Once again, Ruth followed his reasoning. If Don Carlos asked at the village, this was the inn to which they’d be sent.
The innkeeper at the Le Vieux Moulin, which they found by dint of walking to the other end of the town, admitted to having rooms. De-Ath hired two, and asked for baths to be sent up to both.
“You will be sharing with Bella, dear wife,” he told her. “And I shall share with Walter. Lock your door, and let no one in unless it is either me or Walter.”
Oh. How considerate of him. Of course, Ruth was relieved that he did not intend to deflower her tonight. Annoyed, perhaps, that he was being considerate, for he was far easier to resist when he was being arrogant and demanding.
Not that he was easy to resist. Tired as she was, she kept thinking about that kiss. That amazing, absorbing, all-consuming kiss. Some part of her was disappointed she was not about to discover more. It was ridiculous, and she didn’t want to dwell on it. A bath, some dinner, and a good night’s sleep. That was all she wanted.
She should not be feeling as if she had been short-changed.
