Lady Alexandra's Excellent Adventure: A Summersby Tale (5 page)

C
HAPTER
F
OUR

T
he following morning, Alexandra was surprised to find both Ryan and Michael waiting for her on the quay. They did not look well though. “I thought you two would still be asleep,” she said with a smirk.

“And we probably would be if it hadn’t been for those god-awful seagulls squawking so loudly—I almost felt compelled to shoot one of them,” Ryan grumbled.

“I couldn’t agree more,” Michael moaned, pressing his hand against his forehead in an attempt to ward off an apparent headache. “The world would be well served indeed if those evil birds would become extinct. I should be more than happy to assist.”

Alexandra hid a grin. Although they only had themselves to blame, she couldn’t help but feel sorry for them. It was going to be a very long day indeed for Ryan and Michael. “We need horses. You can wait here while I make some inquiries at the tavern over there.” She nodded toward a rundown building on the other side of the road. A crooked sign above the door claimed it to be L
E
V
IEUX
D
OUELLE
.

It was late morning, so the place was mostly empty, except for a handful of customers still lingering over a late breakfast. Alexandra paused in the doorway and pushed back her hood. She then pulled down her scarf. She’d decided that her feminine wiles might serve her better in this instance than the disguise she wore for Michael’s benefit alone.

Looking around the murky place, she quickly spotted a man who fit the bill of innkeeper—an older, portly fellow with a grizzly beard and rolled-up shirt sleeves who was drying off some freshly washed glasses with a dish towel.

Alexandra straightened her back and strode toward him. “
Excusez moi, monsieur
,” she said in flawless French—the result of a very determined tutor.

The man glanced up at her, one eyebrow slightly rising as he took in her overall appearance. He paused at his task, and then set the glass he’d been holding down on the bar counter. He said nothing, though the corners of his mouth began to twist themselves into a mocking smile.

Alexandra chose to ignore it. “I was hoping you might be able to help me.”

“Oui?”

“My companions and I are in need of transportation. Do you have three horses available for purchase?”

“As it happens, I do have a few horses in my stables. But they are champions and will not come cheap.” The man leaned toward her until she could smell the wine on his breath. “How well are you prepared to pay for them?” His eyes wandered over her, then came to rest upon her chest. There was no misinterpreting his meaning.

Alexandra flinched in spite of herself, a faint taste of bile rising in her throat. “I’m terribly sorry,” she told him between gritted teeth. “I believe I may have come to the wrong place.” She wasn’t looking for trouble, and the mere act of allowing this awful man to look at her was making her feel sullied enough to want to poke his eyes out. She turned to leave, only to find herself face to face with a skinnier man who, if his eyes were to be believed, was having the exact same notion as the innkeeper. Alexandra pasted a haughty expression onto her face. “May I help you with something?” she asked as she placed both hands on her hips and gave him a look of disgust.

Perhaps not the correct thing to say, she realized a moment too late when the skinny man’s face broke into a rather disturbing smile. Given the chance, she would have taken a step backward, but in this case, that would have landed her straight in the arms of the innkeeper. She threw up her hands instead. “I have no desire to cause any trouble,” she said in a voice far calmer than she felt.

She’d always considered herself to be on equal footing with her brothers and had never considered that other men might treat her differently. It was true that she was skilled at handling weaponry, but this situation turned her stomach. Somehow, it had never occurred to her that she might have to fight to protect her innocence. It was not at all what she had expected and the possibility of losing was most assuredly a fate far worse than that of dying in battle.

“Oh, it won’t be any trouble at all,” she heard the innkeeper say.

A moment later, she felt his grubby hand upon her backside. Instinct overruled any lack of confidence that the situation might have stirred in her. Without so much as turning her head, Alexandra jabbed her elbow backward and up into the innkeeper’s neck. She then ducked to avoid the blow she knew would follow from his friend. The skinny man’s punch flew over her head and made contact with the innkeeper’s nose.

“Putain!”
the innkeeper wheezed.

Taking quick advantage of the situation, Alexandra sprang to her full height, drew her sword and rammed the hilt of it down until it made contact with the back of the skinny man’s head. He uttered a loud groan before sagging to the floor in a sorry heap of unconsciousness.

Swirling around in one fluid motion, she pinned the angry innkeeper with her sword, her glare speaking volumes about her feelings toward him.

He looked like a rabid dog, eager to attack. Alexandra paid him no heed. She was now in full control of the situation—her momentary lapse in confidence completely evaporated without a trace. “One should never underestimate an opponent . . . or a potential victim, as I believe you intended me to be.” She was conscious of being watched by the few guests present as they’d abandoned their food in order to take in the whole scene. Nobody moved a muscle. The room was shrouded in silence.

“Only a woman with no morals would dress like that.” The innkeeper almost spat the words at her. “Indeed, you are no lady, and you should be treated accordingly.”

Alexandra merely cocked an eyebrow. She would not allow this sorry apology of a man to see just how offended she was. Instead, she pressed the tip of her sword against his chest, drawing what little gratification she could out of watching him flinch. “I was willing to pay handsomely for those horses of yours—though I now believe you ought to give them to me as some form of . . . shall we say compensation?”

The innkeeper’s eyes darkened with rage. Alexandra merely smiled at him as she needled the tip of her sword a little closer. A single drop of scarlet blood beaded around the tip before trickling down the frightened man’s chest. He winced before nodding vigorously, his eyes quickly flooding with fear.

“Excellent,” she said, easing back a little. “Now then, would you be kind enough to show me the stables?”

T
en minutes later, Ryan and Michael spotted Alexandra racing toward them, leading two large stallions and one smaller mare along by their bridles. “Hurry up,” she yelled, her voice conveying the urgency of the situation at hand. “We’ve no time to lose. Hell will be on our heels before you know it.”

“What the blazes?” Michael muttered. He still looked pretty groggy.

“I suggest you do as she says,” Ryan said, jumping to his feet with enormous effort as he grabbed his bag. He took Alexandra’s too and tossed it to her. “I see an innkeeper who looks quite displeased. He has a pistol, Ashford.”

That got Michael’s legs working. Picking his own bag up off the ground, he hurried after Ryan, taking the reins of one of the stallions from Alexandra. “What the devil have you been playing at, Summersby?” he asked as he swung himself into the saddle.

“I don’t like to be insulted,” Alex called out over her shoulder, her mare already carrying her off down the road. “I suggest you keep that in mind.”

For a split second, Michael couldn’t help but stare at the disappearing back of the reckless youth.

Bloody hell!

With a quick kick to his horse’s flanks, he raced after the two siblings, just as gunfire rang out behind him.

The lad is going to get us all killed before we even reach Paris.

C
HAPTER
F
IVE

I
t was six thirty in the evening by the time they reached Rouen. They’d ridden hard, pushing their horses to the limit and were all extremely exhausted. To top it off, it had begun to rain—a steady downpour that had them soaked to the skin within minutes.

Forced to slow to a more measured pace as they entered the city, they clopped along the streets, heading toward the cathedral that rose like a beacon from the town center.

Rounding the corner, Alexandra drew a sharp breath as she took in the magnificence of it—the spires, beautifully adorned in lacy stonework and the flying buttresses a testament to the skill of the craftsmen who had once made them. “Isn’t it incredible?” Michael asked as he drew up beside her.

“It is indeed,” Ryan remarked.

“Remarkable,” Alexandra muttered.

Michael grinned. “Just wait until you see the one in Paris. It’s far grander.” He looked about and then nodded toward a hotel on the opposite side of the square. “Come along . . . let’s get out of this miserable weather.”

Water trickled down Alexandra’s forehead as she dismounted—her boots splashing a puddle as she hit the ground, wetting her breeches even further. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and glanced around the darkened town. A couple of lone figures roamed between the gaslights, lighting them as they went—the yellow glow of each lantern casting a shimmering glare upon the wet cobbles.

Leaving their horses with one of the grooms, they went inside, their clothes dripping and their boots squelching as they walked across to the front desk.

“Shall we meet downstairs for dinner in say . . . half an hour?” Michael asked a short while later while they headed upstairs in search of their rooms.

“Certainly,” Ryan said. “Though I do believe I’d like to make an early night of it. In truth, I don’t believe I’ve ever felt this rotten in my life.”

“More so than when you and William emptied Papa’s case of champagne last Christmas?” Alexandra asked.

“I suppose not. There’s still much that I don’t recall about that incident, except that I was practically bed-ridden for a full week after.”

“Hm . . . I must admit my heart went out to the poor maids who had to clean up after you two,” she said. “
That
cannot have been a pleasant job.”

They reached the landing and as they waited for the porter to show them to their rooms, Alexandra turned to Michael. “I will take my dinner elsewhere.”

A puzzled expression came over his face as if he were putting a great deal of effort into figuring out
why
she would choose to eat alone. “I will have to remove my scarf,” she continued, in answer to his unspoken question. “I doubt that the lighting will be dim enough to conceal my features, and I would hate to be the cause of someone losing their appetite.”

Michael visibly balked at that. “Surely it’s not that bad,” he said. “And your brother and I won’t mind—that goes without saying. If some of the other guests have an issue however, then to hell with them.”

Alexandra wanted to creep away under the carpet and die. Why the devil did he have to be so damned pleasant about it? It just compounded how awful she felt for all the lies she kept dishing out at him. She felt rotten to the core—especially because she’d begun to acknowledge that he wasn’t quite as bad as she’d hoped he’d be. How easy it would have been if he’d truly been the monster she’d conjured in her head. Instead, he was kind toward those who were less fortunate. He probably took in stray puppies and donated money to the homeless. She groaned inwardly, because once he discovered that she’d tricked him and lied to him over and over and over again . . . he’d probably despise her for the remainder of her days.

“I insist,” she told him as she stepped inside her room. “I shall see you both in the morning. Bright and early.” The door closed.

Too bad.

Michael sighed in frustration. He’d taken a liking to Alex, and it bothered him that the lad still feared showing his face in front of him.

“My brother’s a bit self-conscious about his appearance,” Ryan said, offering Michael an apologetic smile.

“He need not be,” Michael muttered. “I wouldn’t think any less of him for the way he looks.”

After a quick dinner, Michael headed out. He needed some fresh air, if for no other reason than to ease the headache that still bothered him. Besides, he was too agitated to be able to sleep. Something about Alex Summersby troubled him. He couldn’t put his finger on what it was, but instinct told him to stay on alert. It seemed as if Alex was keeping something from him. He shook his head to rid it of the uneasiness that plagued it. Perhaps it was nothing. And with Alex’s condition, having a face he dared not show in public, it was probably natural for him to be unsure, awkward, and skittish. Still, Michael decided that it would be wise to keep an eye on him—just in case.

A
lexandra marched along the rain drenched street, water splashing about her booted feet as she went. She was in a furious temper. When she’d gotten out of bed yesterday morning, she’d
known
that she would dislike Michael Ashford. She hadn’t doubted it for a second.

But then he’d come riding along, knocking the stable little planet she’d been living on right off its axis—with nothing more than the features that a very generous mother nature had bestowed upon him. It was enough to make her sick to her stomach. And the lies! God help her, but she’d never told such outrageous tales in all her life. She’d only planned to pass herself off as a young man, yet somewhere along the line, that had been greatly elaborated upon. Now it seemed that she, who was an innocent virgin, born without a single blemish upon her flesh, was pretending to be not only horribly malformed but also to have a voracious appetite for sex.

Good grief!

However, he would soon discover the truth, and once he did, their relationship would very likely take a drastic turn. In truth, she’d be lucky if he didn’t tear her limb from limb.

She picked up her pace to clear her head.

Before all else comes duty—
her father had always said—
toward one’s family and toward one’s country.
Hers lay toward her family, while Ashford’s lay toward their country. She could not allow something as trivial as her growing attraction for him to come in the way of either of their responsibilities.

Alexandra was just passing by the Veuve Lorraine when the front doors to the place sprang open, and two men tumbled out, knocking her sideways. Before she had a chance to get her bearings, more men joined in the fight, while somebody else pushed her forcefully into the midst of the ensuing melee. Unsure of how it had all come about, she suddenly found herself dodging punches and doing the best she could to stand her ground. This was, she conceded, one of those rare occasions when men held the clear advantage. Her punches just didn’t carry enough weight behind them to make a difference.

Spotting an opening in the scuffle, she edged toward it. She was just about ready to make a run for it, when a large hand gripped hold of her ankle and pulled.

Alexandra’s heart leapt with the knowledge that she was about to fall.

Her cheek hit the pavement with a loud crack that sent shockwaves through her jaw. A sharp pain followed as she fumbled about, doing her best to gather her wits about her. This was not the time to be lying sprawled out on the ground while a hoard of buffoons were getting ready to trample all over her.

There was only one way for her to protect herself in this case.

Deciding that she wasn’t going to be stampeded for one more second, she sprang to her feet, coolheaded, and seemingly annoyed. She then drew a dagger from her left boot in one swift motion while unsheathing her sword at the same time.

Enough is enough.

“Sword!” someone bellowed.

As if by magic, all action came to an abrupt halt as darting eyes hurried to locate the piece of weaponry. A moment later, Alexandra found herself the center of attention.

“Quest ce que tu fait?”
a loud voice yelled.

“I have no desire to hurt anyone,” Alexandra began. “Just let me go. This is not my fight, so I’d rather not suffer any further injury because of it.”

“Would you look at that?” a burly fellow snorted with much disdain in his voice. “A little chit in men’s clothing.” They all caught a good look at her face before she could manage to rearrange the scarf that had come loose during the scuffle.

“Aye, I wouldn’t mind givin’ her a tumble,” another said.

Grins broke out as the men, suddenly united in a different cause—their previous skirmish completely forgotten—turned on Alexandra. She rolled her eyes. This really wasn’t going the way she’d planned it at all.

Holding her sword at arm’s length to keep the men at bay, she tried to back away from them, but with little success. All were now grinning from ear to ear, likening the spectacle no doubt, to that of seeing a bear dance about the town square.

“Come now,
mademoiselle
. . . What exactly do you hope to accomplish with
that?”
one man asked, pointing to her sword.

“Stole it from her brother most like,” another commented. “Or a poor sod who was fool enough to fall asleep after a healthy bout of lovemaking!” a toothless fellow chimed in.

Roars of laughter filled the air.

“You a virgin then?” the first man asked as he ogled Alexandra from head to toe with eyes that seemed ready to leap from their sockets.

Alexandra swallowed hard, a soft prickle scurrying over her entire body. She suddenly felt more filthy being victim to these men’s rude remarks than if she’d been mucking out a pigsty. Well, she wouldn’t have it, not by any stretch of their pathetic imaginations. Squaring her shoulders, a sudden urge for recklessness washing over her, she stared straight back at them and held her ground. “Are any of you dimwits fortunate enough to own a weapon equal to mine?”

The challenge was unmistakable. There was a murmur among the crowd before a tall rather thinly shaped man with angular features and a sharp pointy nose stepped forward, brandishing his own sword.
“Oui!”
he exclaimed.

His companions immediately raised a cheer of encouragement for him.

“Very well then,” Alexandra remarked, the feeling of control back in her hands. A familiar need for danger filled her as she looked back at the expectant crowd. She was holding them captive in the palm of her hand, and she loved it. “I shall allow any one of you fools to have your way with me without offering a single complaint in return—if your friend here can beat me in a fair fight.”

After a moment’s silence, the exact amount of time that it took for everyone present to digest such a shocking proposition, the small group burst into cheers and began wishing their friend the best of luck, patting him enthusiastically on the back and shaking his hand.

“If, however, I win,” Alexandra continued. “You will give me free passage. You will not stand in my way, and you will not follow me.”

A roar of laughter filled the air and the terms were agreed upon with a quick handshake.

Looking about, Alexandra knew that none of them doubted the outcome of the upcoming fight—except, perhaps, the fellow holding the sword. If Alexandra weren’t entirely mistaken, he was beginning to look far less confident than he had done a moment earlier. His friend’s on the other hand seemed quite convinced that their victory was already in hand.

Returning her knife to her boot, Alexandra took an en garde stance, her saber held firmly in her right hand. “Let us begin,” she suggested. She then cocked an expectant eyebrow and beckoned for her opponent to engage her.

R
ounding a corner, Michael stopped short as he took in the scene before him.

What the devil?

It seemed as if a duel was taking place right there in the middle of the street, though in the dim lighting it was impossible for him to make out the participants.

Highly unusual, especially since dueling was just as illegal in France as it was in England. His curiosity piqued, yet with no desire to get himself embroiled in the battle, he stayed within the shadows of the buildings and moved hesitantly forward in order to get a closer look. Two men were having a go at each other, though one appeared to be handling his weapon far more proficiently than the other.

What on earth could have brought this on?

Whatever their differences, a duel still seemed a bit . . .
theatrical
, for lack of a better word.

It took a while for him to get a clear look at what was happening. The large crowd of onlookers concealed most of the action from Michael, until one of the duelers was suddenly forced backward by the other and out into the street. Michael took in the sight with growing interest. One of the men was well over a head taller than the other, which ought to have given him a clear advantage, yet the smaller of the two held his ground with expert footing, giving as good, if not better than he got.