Love Inspired Historical January 2015 Box Set: Wolf Creek Father\Cowboy Seeks a Bride\Falling for the Enemy\Accidental Fiancee (69 page)

Chapter Eighteen

“W
hy isn't she waking up?” Gregory repositioned the wet cloth he held against Danielle's forehead and stared down at her pale cheeks. “Because she walked too far earlier? I told her not to walk.”

“Mayhap. Or it could be the pain from her side, loss of blood.” Her father kept his gaze locked on Danielle's side as he poured water on her wound. “How much did she bleed when she was shot?”

The vision of his coat soaked with Danielle's blood flashed across his mind, and he pressed his lips together.

“Too much.” Serge came up behind Belanger with a shallow bowl in hand. “Here's the water you asked for.”

Belanger set the bowl he was using aside and reached for the steaming liquid, dipping a rag in it before cleansing his daughter's side once more. “Today was the first time you let her walk by herself?”

“She insisted.” But the excuse felt paltry on Gregory's tongue. He should have carried her from the moment they left camp that morn, even if he had to bind her hands and feet and toss her over his shoulder.

Serge plopped down beside his father, the boy's attention on the ugly wound in his sister's side. “You know how she can be,
Papa
. She had it in her mind that she was well enough to walk, so she nigh fainted before she let Halston carry her.”

Belanger's eyes met his over Danielle's body. “The
lord
carried my daughter, did he?”

Gregory nearly cringed at the use of his title. How was it this French family could make what all of England honored into something that sounded reprehensible? “It seemed only fair. She was protecting me when she got shot. I'm the reason she...she's...” He dropped his gaze back to Danielle's colorless face.

“She was protecting you? That's a story I should probably hear,” Belanger growled.

“Shouldn't we try to rouse her first?” Serge reached for her hand lying motionless on her stomach and squeezed. “She's been out an awfully long time.”

“We need to stitch her.” Belanger's jaw remained hard. “Which should have been done after the gunshot and is likely why the wound reopened.”

“Oh.” Serge bit the side of his lip. “I probably should have known that.”

Belanger raised an eyebrow at his son.

“If you stitch it now, will she heal?” Gregory asked, perhaps a bit too quickly since Belanger stared at him in that odd manner again.

“She should, though she'll likely bear a scar.” Her father trailed a gentle finger around the wound. “Serge, go fetch my bag.”

The boy scampered off and was back in an instant, rummaging through the sack to produce a needle and thread.

Belanger took the supplies in hand. “While I sew, Lord Halston is going to tell me exactly how he got my daughter shot.”

Gregory worked a finger beneath his collar and loosened the suddenly tight fabric. “I...ah—”

“There wasn't much to it.” Serge raised his shoulder and let it drop. “We'd gotten into a scuffle with some deserters and were being looked for. Two farmers happened upon Dani and Halston, then fired at Dani. Halston should tell you about the first time they met instead. It's much more interesting.”

Serge's voice was entirely too cheerful, and Gregory scowled. “Just a mom—”

“Dani here tackled Halston's valet and held a knife to his throat,” Serge volunteered. “Which somehow made Halston decide she would do a good job of getting them to the coast. So then he kidnapped us, even tied Dani up for a bit until she agreed to help on her own.”

“You tied my daughter up?” Belanger's shout likely alerted half the countryside to their presence

Gregory shoved a second finger beneath his collar and tugged harder. Danielle was right about her brother. The boy never knew when to close his mouth. “I, ah...couldn't exactly have her running to the nearest gendarmerie post and accusing us of being spies.”

The worn lines around Belanger's eyes crinkled while he worked on Dani's side. “I see you've been introduced to her full charm.”

Her full charm?
Yes, he'd been introduced to all of it. The fierce way she'd fought against them at first, then for them once she'd decided to help. The tireless manner in which she'd cared for Westerfield, the quick rebukes she'd spit at Kessler.

The passionate way she'd kissed him.

His mouth turned dry at the sudden memory— memories, as there had been two kisses. His gaze drifted to her lips, a dull, chapped pink on a face devoid of color. What would they feel like if he touched his mouth to hers now? Cold like the rest of her face? Soft despite their chapped state? Or perchance a kiss would wake her as it had the princess in the story of Sleeping Beauty.

Belanger's throat cleared, and Gregory glanced up, heat flooding the back of his neck.

“Care to state your thoughts?”

“Ah...your daughter is...well...”

Belanger shifted back and crossed his arms, revealing that Danielle's side was tightly sewn together. When had Belanger finished?

Likely sometime while he'd been staring at her lips.

Exactly how long had he stared?

And how long had her father watched him?

“You were saying?”

“I...” He looked back toward camp and pushed to his feet. “Perhaps I should check on the others.”

“I think not. Sit down, Halston, and let Serge see to the others. I've a story to tell you.”

Gregory turned back to the older man. A story? He could well imagine what the story might be—a tale of a man who fell in love with the wrong woman and then ended up in prison for the rest of his life. Nevertheless, Gregory sank into the dirt beside Danielle's freshly wrapped side while her father moved to probe the knot on her head.

“Before I ever met Danielle, when she was a mere child of three and ten, she'd sneaked into my house and stolen the knife from above my mantel. She'd also taken a chicken from the coop, but she knew not how to grip a knife or kill a chicken. So she dragged the thing, half dead, to the woods lining one of my fields, and when I came upon her, she had that knife raised like a warrior above her prey, ready for the kill strike.”

Danielle gave a little gasp, and her hand opened before fisting tightly on her belly.

“Dani?” Gregory took her hand and glanced at Belanger, his fingers still probing her injury. “Dani, are you awake? Can you hear me? You swooned, darling. We think it's because your wound started bleeding again.”

Her eyelids flickered open, and her gaze landed on his for half a moment before her eyes closed again.

Belanger cleared his throat and shifted, staring at him yet again before turning his attention back to Dani. “As I was saying, I approached, and she whirled. She still clutched the knife as though she planned to use it on me should I take another step.”

“No more.” Danielle mumbled, though her eyes remained closed. “Not this story.”

“Hush, daughter, don't strain yourself. We need to see you well.” Belanger removed his hands from her hair and stroked an errant lock off her forehead. “You'd tell me nothing about how you'd come by the knife or who your parents were or where I could find them. Do you remember? And I couldn't help but love you from the first—and determine to teach you the proper use of a knife.”

Gregory ran his thumb over the knuckles on Danielle's hand. “You must have found her family, seeing how you married her mother.”

The glazed look of memories left Belanger's eyes. “
Oui
. I found her mother and two little brothers, and I discovered Danielle stole my chicken because they had naught but pulse to eat and her mother was sick with fever.”

“So you helped them.”

Belanger's strong jaw worked back and forth. “I helped. They needed quite a bit of it.”

Just as his own party had needed quite a bit of help from Danielle and Serge. He gave Dani's hand a final squeeze and released it, her eyes still closed, her breathing even and steady as though she'd fallen asleep. “Will you help us, as well? Will you take us to the coast?”

The breath stilled in his lungs as he watched the harsh man who could cart them off to prison at any time. Belanger searched Gregory's face and eyes and body, every inch of him, though he could hardly guess what Belanger looked for. Footsteps thudded the earth from somewhere in the camp and a squirrel scampered through the nearby trees, but silence lingered between them.

“
Oui
. I'll help.”

Relief swept through Gregory at the simple words. “Thank y—”

“But my daughter is going home. I'll carry her tomorrow, but once we reach Abbeville, she and Serge will stay home while I take you to the coast. I'll not risk her anymore. I know not how you've planned to cross the channel, but I've a son in Saint-Valery who can ferry you across as easily as anyone else. 'Tis only a two-day walk from here.”

Two days? That was all? Going up to Berck would require more than a half week of travel, and here Belanger could see them off in two days' time.

“Yes,” he croaked. “It should work perfectly.” Gregory glanced at Danielle, her beautiful face pale, her usually vibrant form so still. “And she'll be safe.”

Which mattered more to him than he dare admit aloud.

* * *

The Englishmen.

Danielle woke with a start, pushing herself up quickly to survey the camp. The men were still there, as was her father, all up and about the camp in the dim morning light. At least he hadn't taken them to Captain Montfort in Abbeville yet. She raised herself from her bedding, ignoring the pain in her side and the throbbing in her head.

“You should be resting.” Her father barreled toward her, his jaw set at a formidable angle.

“You didn't leave,” she countered.

“I'll help with your bedding.” He bent and scooped up the blankets with his massive arms, wadding them into a ball that would never fit into their small sacks of supplies. “Just don't aggravate your injuries.”

She pressed a hand to her still-tender side. “I pushed myself too hard yesterday, but I'll not make the same mistake today. You've little need to worry.”

“You've spent the past fortnight helping spies.” He looked about the campsite, his gaze pausing on where Gregory, Kessler and Westerfield clustered together while Farnsworth busied himself beside the fire. “That's plenty of reason to worry. You'll not be walking today. I'll carry you until we're within a kilometer or two of home before sending you and Serge on while I take these men to the coast.”

He'd been bent on taking the English to Captain Montfort, and now he'd decided to help? She gripped her father's arm, her fingers digging into the thick wool of his coat. “Did I change your mind last night?”

“Something of the sort.” He slanted anther glance toward Gregory. “Now go rest by that tree yonder. I need you well, not weak and sickly.”

She didn't need rest. She felt perfectly fine—well, except for the pain. But she wasn't about to walk docilely home while
Papa
led the men to safety. “I intend to see them to the coast.”

Her father sighed, untold weariness behind the exhalation of breath. “Danielle, don't make things more difficult. I've already decided to involve Julien in passage across the channel rather than take the men farther up to Berck. I refuse to risk you and Serge any more than necessary.”

Julien! Why hadn't she thought of him? It was perfect. “'Tis a wonderful plan, especially since we know not if the gendarmes and smugglers have set a trap for them in Berck.”

“
Oui
. And Julien can keep a secret.”

That he could. Her older brother might well carry the secrets of half northern France and one would never know it. “Since it's only two days' journey rather than a week's you should have no trouble with me going along.”

“Non.”
The curt word rang through the camp.

“
Papa
, you've already—”

“Must you fight with every word that issues from my mouth? First you try convincing me to help a bunch of spies rather than see them imprisoned, and once I give you that, you demand to continue traveling with them. I forbid it.”

She sucked in a breath through her nose, nice and long and slow. It did nothing to calm the blood burning hot through her veins. “Did you listen to nothing I said last night? They're not spies!”

Papa
scowled. “Why they're here makes little difference seeing how they're English and we're at war.”

“And yet you're not delivering them to Captain Montfort.”

“Enough.”

“It's not enough. Don't you understand?” Tears scalded the backs of her eyes, hot and mortifying. “I have to go with them, and not just to the coast, but all the way to England to ensure they get there safely. I've come too far to back away now.”

Papa
shifted his bulky weight from one foot to the other. “You don't need to add a trip across the channel to everything you've endured. You don't even need to add a trip
to
the channel. I promise to deliver the men safely.”

But her father's promise wasn't enough. Not anymore. There had been a time when it would have sufficed. Had been a time when she'd hung on his every word and cherished them like her own sack of gold napoleons. But somewhere along this journey, things had changed. It wasn't that she didn't believe her father. She believed him as much as was possible for one person to believe another. But that trust no longer negated her own need to see the man she loved safely to his homeland.

“I have to go.”

“Of all the people I envisioned claiming your heart, it was never a British aristocrat.” His voice, though soft and tender, cut as sharply as the blade strapped to her ankle.

The breath stilled in her lungs, and the air grew thick around them. “How did you know?”