Page 35 of When the Duke Met His Match

What had been a peaceful rest changed quickly, however. Odette twitched in her sleep, mumbling in protest. When she thrashed, surely having a nightmare, he draped an arm across the front of her.

He shushed her quietly, watching as her twisted expression relaxed again, and her small cries ebbed away. Luckily, the rain was loud enough to conceal her sounds.

Content that she was soothed enough to ease back into her quiet slumber, he pulled his arm away and watched as she slept.

Seeing her so uncomfortable and distressed was difficult, but he knew they both needed to hold on a bit longer until they reached Calais. Then, they could plan their new lives with less fear and worry.

They could be free and happy even if he weren’t quite sure what that looked like for them.

As the minutes bled into hours, Theophilus fought against the lowering of his eyelids. With his head against the wall and Odette’s body to warm him, the comfort of sleep was tempting. His body relaxed more and more at the idea, hardly able to keep his eyes open.

A few minutes couldn’t hurt, he thought to himself, giving in to that blissful haze.

The carriage rolled on, and he didn't mind fighting the rest he desperately needed.

* * *

The carriage abruptly stopped, and Theophilus jerked to attention, banishing the sleep from his body at once. Realizing they weren’t moving, he reached over and gently shook Odette awake.

She mumbled her protest, sucking in a deep breath. She peered at him through tired eyes, looking more exhausted after her troubled sleep. When she went to part her lips to speak, he gently covered her mouth with a hand.

Her brows furrowed, but she didn’t fight him.

The sound of boots against wood caught his attention, then the crunch of rocks beneath them made his heart clench.

Glancing through the small window to his left, he tried to keep his composure. They were stopped on the side of the road. They weren’t home free yet.

He stopped breathing while silence filled the space around them. That familiar scent of meat wasn’t the reason his stomach turned.

A dreadful moment passed before the rear door was yanked open, and light poured inside. The barrel of a gun stared them down.

Theophilus’ heart was in his throat then, but he swallowed it back down. He heard Odette’s gasp, followed by the rapid beat of her heart.

The coachman took a step back and scowled at them. “The one thing I hate are trespassers,” he muttered, motioning for them to come out. “Climb down and explain yourselves before I blow you away.”

Not taking his eyes away from the man or his gun, he carefully exited the carriage and helped Odette get down. As they emerged onto the worked trail, dry from the apparent pause of rain, they both raised their hands in surrender.

The man kept his gun raised, alternating his aim while he eyed them suspiciously.

He wasn’t necessarily big by any means and didn’t seem like a skilled fighter. Theophilus knew he could take the man on if he had the chance, but the gun was his main worry. He couldn’t risk getting hit by it or letting a stray bullet hit Odette. He needed to be cautious.

But the guilt stopped him from charging the man. He was only doing his job, and they were the ones interrupting that. He couldn’t harm the coachman for merely trying to deliver his merchandise.

“The last time I checked, you two weren’t on the transport list,” the coachman said ironically, his gaze shifting between them. “In fact, there was meant to be nothing alive back there.”

Prepared to speak, he stopped the moment Odette beat him to it. She took a step forward, hands still up. “We are truly sorry, sir. We don’t want any trouble.”

“What are you, thieves? Outlaws?” he questioned, his tone sharp with anger. He raised his gun as a threat. “Whatever it is, I want no part in it.”

“We only wish to get to Dover. That’s all,” Theophilus blurted despite his attempt to remain collected.

If the coachman desired to, he could hand them over to the appropriate authorities and have them out of his hair. If there wasn’t one already, a warrant for their arrest would be in place, and they’d be marched back to London without a second thought. All their effort would be for nothing; he couldn’t allow that to happen.

The man slowly backed away with his gun pointed between them, mouth fixed in a scowl. “To hell with what you want.”

Glancing down at Odette, he saw the panic that was etched on her face, and he didn’t want to let her down. He didn’t want them to waste away on the side of the road, hoping for someone to pick them up.

The coachman meant to abandon them without leaving anything to help them. While he couldn’t blame him, it wasn’t ideal.