He turned back and strode toward the wagon. He would put his coat on too. After finding a spot where she could take care of all that needed to be done, they could make their way slowly back to the barn, looking for flowers. She would enjoy that, and so would he.
Just as he reached the wagon, a scream pierced the air. He spun back around. A man had Adèle in his arms and was running away. Aldric bolted after her.
“Tonton Aldric!” Her screams of sheer terror pierced him as he struggled to catch the man who’d snatched her.
He was trying to make up ground, but the kidnapper was swift.
“Tonton Aldric!” She was fighting, twisting, and wriggling. Her captor struggled to keep hold of her.
Aldric was closing the distance. He swiped a hand forward. Almost close enough. Adèle’s arm reached back toward him, fear filling her eyes.
He reached out again and grabbed hold of the collar of the man’s coat. Either out of instinct or cruelty, the man threw Adèle to the ground. Her cry changed to one of pain. The man was fighting, throwing elbows, no doubt wanting to get loose of Aldric’s grasp. Aldric might be able to hold him off, throw a few punches and elbows of his own, but Adèle was crawling back toward him and would soon be close enough to be snatched again or hurt further.
In his distraction, Aldric didn’t see the fist coming until a moment before it connected. He was able to turn enough away to take the fist to his shoulder instead of his face. But it sent him reeling backward. And the man slipped loose.
Aldric spun fast and tossed himself over Adèle, creating a barrier, making it impossible for the assailant to grab her again.
He didn’t even try. He simply ran, disappearing into the nearby stand of trees.
Adèle was sobbing, and the sound was torture. Aldric scooped her up and held her close, reminding himself not to squeeze too hard, not wanting to cause her pain or add to her fear but needing to know that she truly was there, that the man hadn’t succeeded in stealing her away.
He pulled back enough to look her over. “Are you hurt,ma petite douce? Are you hurt?”
“He was taking me away.” She threw her arms around him again and cried. He stood, cradling her close, out of breath, his chest tight with the fear that was washing over him.
She’d almost been abducted. He’d left her alone for a blink, for a mere moment, and she’d been snatched away. The threats they’d been running from had caught up with them.
And Céleste had been left alone.
Merciful heavens.
He moved as quickly as he could without jarring Adèle too much. He still didn’t know what injuries she might have sustained when the man had tossed her down.
But he didn’t have to get all the way to the barn before being reassured Céleste was still there. She stood just outside the missing doors, looking at him with a haunted expression. She had no doubt heard Adèle screaming.
He moved with swift steps, mind spinning, heart racing, angry at himself, worried about Adèle. It was too much to think about all at once, and in the midst of that was the knowledge that they needed to get away. They had to get out of France far faster than they had anticipated. The game their pursuers had been playing in letting them know they were near but giving no indication what they meant to do had changed in an instant.
“What happened?” Céleste asked when he was near enough to hear her.
“They’re too close.” He spoke swiftly, pushing past her and directly into the barn. He set Adèle on the wagon bench and gave her a quick look over. An angry green stain from the grass marred the side of her nightdress. She had a bit of a scrape on her face. He touched it gently. “I’m sorry,ma petite douce. I’m so sorry.”
She was sobbing and terrified, and it was all his fault.
“Who was that?” Céleste asked from beside him. “How did he—? What was—?”
“I don’t know,” Aldric said gruffly. “It was either the man from the inn last night or the one who left the note the night before or any number of people intent on making mischief.”
“But how did he get so close without us knowing?”
“I don’t know.” He grabbed his coat and pulled it on. “We need to leave as soon as possible.” He began walking toward the horse but turned back. “Adèle woke up because she needed relief. If you can help her see to thatwithout going far”—he emphasized the last bit—“we’ll cover more ground before having to stop.”
He needed to get the horse hitched and get them on the road as soon as possible. They were at least two days from Le Tréport, maybe three at the rate they’d been going. It was far too much time with those levying threats growing as bold as they had that morning. He’d almost lost Adèle. Something could easily have happened to Céleste. His ladies were depending on him, and he’d failed them.
I promised Henri I’d keep them both safe. And I failed.
Just as I failed my mother.
And Stanley.
