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She’d been right to dislike him. Why had she changed her mind? Why had she kissed him? She must have been, as he’d tactfully suggested, overwrought. But then he was overwrought as well because he’d kissed her back just as passionately. Even now the memory of that kiss made her toes curl and her cheeks heat.
Too much time to think, indeed. She should think about what she would say to the king and queen. She should devise an explanation to give to the palace guards when she arrived in a stained bodice and petticoats. She could only hope they would believe she was indeed the Comtesse d’Avignon. She could only hope she might persuade the king to take action against the men and women who had attacked her friends and burned her house. She must persuade the king that he must act now or risk losing his country.
And of course her thinking was nothing more than wishful. If the king would not listen to his ministers or his brothers, why would he listen to her? Why would anyone listen to her? After all, Daventry had tried to warn her, and she had ignored him and then tried to silence him. Why would the king or her friends and relatives be any different? Perhaps it was folly to stay in France. Perhaps she should have gone with Daventry.
As though her thoughts had conjured him, he stepped out from behind a tree in front of her. She gasped and her heart jumped. “Where did you come from?”
“I circled back around to find you.”
Angelette took a calming breath, uncertain whether her heart pounded at the surprise of seeing him or because he was such a handsome man that seeing him could not fail to produce a quickened heartbeat and shallow breaths in her. She could not help but think of their kiss.
That kiss.
Angelette closed her eyes and fumbled for control. “If you think to try again and talk me into traveling to Calais with you, you are wasting your time.”
“That’s not my purpose.” He started forward, and she forced her feet to stay rooted in place rather than shuffle back.
“What is your purpose?”
“I wouldn’t be much of a gentleman if I left you here in the woods. I’ll see you safely to the palace and then make a start for Calais.”
“Thank you, but I don’t want to keep you from leaving the country as soon as your cowardly legs will take you away.”
His hands went to his hips. “It’s not cowardice but practicality. I see the storm coming. Even the most foolish would take shelter when he saw the clouds overhead and heard the thunder in the distance.”
“So I’m a fool then?”
His hands dropped to his sides. “No. You’re loyal to your adopted country. That’s as it should be. I have no doubt I would feel much the same were we in England. I’ll take you to the king.”
He held out his hand, but she didn’t take it this time. It seemed more dangerous to touch him than to stumble over a rock. Better to make her own way and not rely on him. After all, she’d learned men were not to be trusted. They left, just when one needed them, and though Daventry had come back, in the end he would leave as well.
An hour later they reached the road. Angelette knew exactly where they were as she recognized the trees as well as a small brook just before the curve up ahead. As soon as she saw it her heart sank. For all the walking they had done the night before, they had not made much progress. The palace was still miles away. They were still very much in danger.
“I suggest we walk in the woods, keeping the road in sight, until we’re closer. We can hide among the trees. The road leaves us completely exposed.”
She nodded and followed him back into the shaded coolness of the woods. Now that she knew they had miles to go, the exhaustion she’d been trying to ignore crashed down on her. Her aching back and feet would find no relief any time soon. Daventry peered over his shoulder, giving her a questioning look, and she straightened immediately. If he suspected how tired she was, he would want to stop and give her time to rest. She knew they must continue walking. The luck they’d had since the night before wouldn’t hold out forever.
They paused at the brook to drink, and Angelette splashed water on her face, savoring the cool wetness on her overheated cheeks. When she rose, she found Daventry studying the brook.
“What’s the matter?” she asked.
“It’s too deep to cross, and too wide to jump. If we cross it, we’ll be walking the rest of the way in wet, cold clothing.”
“An unappealing option. What do you suggest?”
He gestured to the road. “We walk on the road until we’re past it and then duck back into the woods.”
“The problem is that the road curves on that section.” She gestured across the brook. “We won’t be able to see what’s coming or what lies ahead.”
He gave her an approving nod. “I hadn’t realized that.”
“We are left with the option of walking into what might be a trap or trying to make it the rest of the way with wet feet, which will surely blister and rub raw the further we go.”
“There’s a third choice.”
She raised her brows and motioned for him to continue. “We build a bridge across. If I can find a downed branch or limb long enough, we can lay it across the water and walk over that.”
Angelette looked about and saw nothing that would suit their purposes. “How long do you think that will take?”
