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“I take it back,” Honoria told him. “You are not overreacting.”
He sighed as though beleaguered. “I rarely do. Are you prepared to jump?”
“No.” She pushed her cap lower on her head to hold it in place. “But I am less prepared to face the Conciergerie.” She reached for the door handle. “When do we go?”
His hand covered hers. “Patience, my sweet. I’ll wait until he slows and jump first. You follow.”
She nodded, afraid to speak lest her voice shake as much as her hands. She tucked them under her legs to hide them.
He stared out the window at the approaching stalls, looking quite calm and unperturbed. How did he manage that? Her mind was a jumble, her thoughts an endless repetition ofNonononononono...
“And after we jump?” she whispered.
He pulled one of her hands free and kissed it. “We run. Ready, mademoiselle?”
“No.”
“Follow me anyway!” And he threw the door open. The cobblestones rushed under them, far too quickly. With a roar, the marquis jumped.
***
LAURENT HAD FALLENfrom horses when he’d been learning to ride. He knew how to fall to prevent the worst sort of injuries, but jumping from a moving carriage on a Paris street proved quite a bit different from falling from a rearing horse on dirt or grass. He tried to roll to distribute the impact of the landing, but it hurt like hell when his shoulder slammed into the cobblestones, followed by his back and then his other shoulder.
Gritting his teeth against the pain, he forced himself not to lie still, as his body wanted, but to lever himself on his elbow. All around him people were crying out in alarm, but he ignored them. The carriage was speeding away now. Had the Englishwoman jumped or was she still inside? A second later he had his answer when he caught a flash of her red cap.
“Jump, damn you,” he muttered.
The carriage was almost past the last of the stalls, and people scrambled out of its way because the driver was taking no chances. He would not slow further.
A moment more and the driver would whip the horses to a frenzy, and she’d be lost to him forever. “Jump,” he muttered.“Jump.”
He closed his fist in frustration. A minute more and it would be too late. But Laurent knew it didn’t matter. She wouldn’t jump. She was too afraid. He should have made her jump first. He should have held her hand so they might jump in tandem.
And then, at the last possible second, the door swung open again, and she reached one foot out, stepping into nothing. He couldn’t help but close his eyes. If the cobblestones hadn’t smashed her to pieces, she’d surely injured herself against one of the stalls or by colliding with one of the shoppers.
“Honoria!” he called and struggled to his feet.
“Now wait just a moment!” someone yelled from behind him, but Laurent had no intention of waiting for anything. His shoulder hurt enough to make him curse, but his legs held his weight. He gained his feet and started to run. People moved out of his way, their gazes shifting from his face to whatever or whoever pursued him. It was a bad sign, but Laurent didn’t need any more bad signs. He didn’t look behind him, merely pushed people out of his path, trying to reach Honoria.
When he came to the stall where she’d jumped, he called for her again, looking frantically at the ground for blood or her broken body. A bright splash of red made his heart lurch. He ran for it, realizing at the last moment it was only her cap. “Honoria!”
“Here!” He followed her voice and spotted her leaning against the wall of a building just beyond the stalls. A small crowd of people was gathering, watching her with interest. “Citoyen, hurry!” She pointed behind him.
Still resisting the urge to look over his shoulder, he arrowed for her, stopping before her and putting his hands on her shoulders. “Are you hurt?”
“Just a few scratches.” She held up her hands, which were bloody with scrapes. Unfortunately, not only had she lost her cap when she’d jumped, her hair had come undone. It streamed over her shoulders, framing that startlingly beautiful face.
Around him he could hear people whispering. “It’s a woman.”
“You?” she asked him, her gaze moving up and down him quickly.
“I’m fine.” His shoulder hurt like Lucifer was burning it with hellfire, but that was a problem for another time. He’d finally turned to look behind him.
It looked as though half the National Guard was after them.
“Can you run?” he asked, taking her wrist.
“Do we have a choice?”
