Page 75 of A Bluestocking’s Secret Courtship

Jonathan exhaled, trying to relax. If he and Evangeline remained calm, perhaps they wouldn’t be seen as a threat, and the warriors would let them go. Since she was doing a fine job of keeping them safe thus far, he let Evangeline do the talking.

“Is your man good?” the leader asked.

She tipped her head and studied Jonathan. Her expression was trusting, sincere. “Yes, I believe he is.”

Jonathan dropped his gaze. When she learned the truth about him, she would never look at him the same.

“My uncle is also performing at the wedding,” she said.

Jonathan’s head shot up. Her eyebrows arched ever so slightly. Asking him to trust her?

“He left before us,” she said. “Perhaps you met him, too? He demonstrates kicks and twirls. He calls it Wing Chun.”

The leader’s eyes narrowed, and Jonathan tensed again.

“Oh! And he throws knives,” she said. “But he isn’t very good. I wouldn’t want to be his assistant.”

The older warrior smiled. When he repeated the story to the others, they laughed heartily.

“I know him,” he said at last. “Old like me.”

Evangeline shook her head, returning his smile. “Interesting like you. Can you tell me how many days ahead he is? We were hoping to catch up to him.”

“You come to camp. Draw wife.”

“Not without me,” Jonathan said, straining against the warrior holding him back. “Husbands and wives stay together.”

The leader sighed and nodded. “You play drums at camp.”

He spoke to the man holding Jonathan, and the warrior released him. Evangeline rushed into Jonathan’s arms, collapsing against him.

“We can do this,” she whispered. “And I love you, too.”

Twenty-eight

Jonathan’s head felt like it floated above his body as he and Evangeline packed their belongings. She heard him last night. She loved him too. Everything he had longed for these past few years was in his grasp, and it would be destroyed the moment her uncle saw him. Nausea built at the back of his throat. He swallowed against it and forced himself to breathe.

Perhaps not judging them to be threats, they were allowed to walk together. And truthfully, with three warriors walking ahead on the narrow path and three behind, Jonathan and Evangeline were at their mercy. The half-hour journey was silent. When they stopped on a ridge, the camp was spread out across the valley. Tents, fires, and warriors were everywhere. They must have numbered a hundred at least.

“Heavens,” Evangeline muttered.

The leader grabbed a shepherd’s hook that was stuck in the ground. A piece of colorful cloth was tied to the end as a makeshift flag, and he waved it overhead. An answering deep-throated ba-lu came from a horn Jonathan couldn’t identify.

They followed the hunting party down a steep rocky path. Jonathan held Evangeline’s hand tightly for fear of losing her over the edge. As they reached the valley, a troop of soldiers approached. They exchanged words with the hunting party’s leader and he turned to Evangeline.

“You and husband go see Khevan-resh.”

“Khevan-resh?”

“Chief speak with you.”

Evangeline took a cleansing breath and followed the soldiers. Men, women, and children stopped to stare as they walked the dusty path leading to a larger tent at the center of the camp.

Jonathan scanned each tent as they passed, searching for Charles Wedmore, but there was no sign of him. His fingers tightened into fists at his sides. Every sound made him jump. They had been lured here by the hope of finding Evangeline’s uncle.

Compliant prisoners.

Now he was even less optimistic about them making it out alive.