“Yes,me,” I hiss. “Nowdo you regret not listening to me?”
“I listened—” He cuts himself short and motions for me to do the same.
“Where did he go?” a man says.
“Through a hedgerow, obviously. Unless he is truly a devil and vanished in a puff of sulfur.”
“I know he went through a hedgerow,” the first man snaps. “I mean, which side of the road.”
“You go that way. I’ll go this.”
Nicolas lets out a curse in French. I would love to ask the translation, if the world weren’t tilting, darkness edging in from all sides.
“Come,” he whispers. “We must get farther—”
He blinks at me. I follow his gaze to my blood-soaked sleeve.
“I was shot,” I say. “There is a third man. I do not believe it struck an artery, but I feel a bit light-headed.”
Nicolas lets out a string of curses now, some English, some French.
As he opens his mouth to say more, the clouds finally split, and the rain comes, pounding down, as if punishing us for its imprisonment. Nicolas speaks, but I hear only the rain and the wind, and even those become muffled and indistinct.
“I-I fear I feel rather unwell,” I say. “We should take shelter soon.”
I rise to a crouch. He reaches to pull me down again, gesturing at the road, and I frown. Why should I not stand if I am able? It is storming, and we really ought to take shelter.
Men. Guns.
I blink. However did I forget that?
Nicolas’s mouth is moving, but no words reach my ears.
“I really do feel quite odd,” I say. “Faint, even. I do hope I do not swoon. That would be terribly—”
I swoon, straight into his arms, and the world goes dark.
5
My eyelids flutter open. I did swoon, didn’t I? How terribly embarrassing. I turn to apologize to Nicolas, only to find I am in...
I am not certain where I am.
I’m lying down, for one thing. When I inhale, I smell hay and dried manure. I try to push up, and my hand comes down on straw. A coarse blanket covers me. I tug at it to discover it is a burlap sack, ripped open into a rough sheet. Rain pounds a wooden roof.
I squint upward to see a dove peering down at me from the rafters.
“Oh, bother,” I grumble. “Ididswoon, didn’t I? And then I needed to be carried and nursed back to health.”
“You sound quite annoyed at that. Most young ladies would swoon again at the very thought.”
I snort. “If you believe that, then you are acquainted with very few young ladies. There are many who would prefer to avoid the embarrassment of being rescued.”
“Even by a charming and notorious pirate?” His tone is light, teasing, as he walks from the shadows, an apple and knife in hand.
“I thought you weren’t a pirate?”
He shrugs. “Charming and notoriousprivateerdoes not sound quite the same, so I will allow myself the title of pirate, just this once.”