Wielding a sword was nowhere near as easy as Al made it look. M. C. discovered that while trying to mimic his graceful moves with her stick. To her credit, she only whacked him upside the head twice, but he had a bright red welt to show for it. Still, he’d kept his patience, and she thought she’d mastered a move or two by the time they finished.
“Now,” Al said, gently closing his hand on the hilt of her branch and taking it from her. “Try it with a real sword.”
She was breathless, and she had no doubt her face was bright red from exertion—while he stood there as relaxed as if he’d just been napping. No doubt about it, the guy was in great shape. She, on the other hand, definitely needed to do more aerobics. Or something.
He dropped the stick to the ground and pressed his gleaming sword into her hand. “Like this,” he said, guiding her fingers around the grip, then covering them with his own. “Ready?”
She nodded. Al stepped away from her...a good three feet away, and that made her grin. “How can I fight without an opponent?”
He smiled back at her, and it made her heart skip. “For now, your opponent is going to have to be make believe, ma belle. Imagine Monsieur de Rocci standing before you.”
M. C. narrowed her eyes. “That should help immensely. Can I castrate him?”
Al frowned. “You are more bloodthirsty than I realized.”
“Only for de Rocci,” she said, and she lifted the sword as he’d shown her. “It’s heavier than the stick,” she said, then she brought it down in a sweeping arc.
“Bon. Now thrust! Parry! Dodge! Block!” As he shouted commands, she obeyed, and she couldn’t deny she felt incredibly powerful wielding the weapon—though not exactly graceful, nearly tripping over her feet once. Still, when she finished, he nodded in approval. “You are an excellent student, Mary Catherine. You learn quickly.”
She nodded, smiling, breathless. “I only wish you were going to be around longer.” Then she bit her lip. She hadn’t thought about his leaving lately, but now the idea made her inexplicably sad. And not just because he wouldn’t be around to give her lessons.
She actually liked the guy. Amazing.
“I wish it, too,” he said softly.
“What was your life like before I stole you away from it. Al?” Her voice was softer than usual, she realized.
“Ah, my life before.” Did he sound wistful? “It was a grand adventure, Mary Catherine. To be a Musketeer is every Frenchman’s dream...or it is in my time. I am respected and admired, even envied, by everyone I meet.”
A man of stature, she mused. Successful and in love with his work. “Did you have any family?”
He lowered his eyes. “I was my parents’ only child. They died of a fever when I was still young, so I was reared by my uncle, who had served with the Musketeers before he finally married and settled down. He is gone now too. I have no family. But then, a Musketeer is better off without one. My life is my work, you see.”
“And love?”
Shrugging his broad shoulders, Alexandre smiled. “When love comes, it will become my life. For true love alone, would I lay down my sword. Until that day comes I am happy to fight for right and the honor of the king. Each day brings a new challenge, a new adventure.”
“A new woman...?”
His smile changed to one filled with mischief. “Sometimes. A warrior never knows which day will be his last, so he tends to make the most of his nights. But sex is not love, my Lady Hammer. Those moonlight trysts meant nothing, neither to me nor to the ladies involved. And I think you are wise enough to know this.”
She wondered if it would mean anything if she were “the lady involved.” Then told herself it didn’t matter. He stepped closer, brushing a damp tendril of hair from her face. “You are tired now, and it has grown late. We should rest.”
Her throat went dry. “All right.”
Al stoked the fire, then laid the saddles on the ground to use as pillows. He put them very close together, she noticed. Then he picked up his long coat. Stretching out on the ground, he pulled the coat over him, then held one side up and looked at her. “Come, Mary Catherine. You know you’ve nothing to fear.”
“I know,” she said, maybe a tad defensively. “I’m not afraid.” Or if she was, it wasn’t for the reasons he was thinking. Lying so close to him all night long—and not touching him—was going to be a challenge. It wasn’t Al she was worried about, it was herself. Did women come on to men in his time? What would he think of her if she—
What was she thinking? He was the one obsessed with sex, not her. And since he’d vowed not to touch her until his role as protector was fulfilled, she didn’t have a thing to worry about.
Did she?
“Mary Catherine?”
His brows were arched as he lay there waiting for her, looking like a centerfold—except that he had his clothes on. M. C. sighed and went to him, slid underneath the coat, and laid her head on the saddle.
“Good night, my lady. Sleep well.”
“ ‘Night, Al,” she said, but she didn’t think she was going to sleep.
She did. Must have, because when she woke up, her head was no longer pillowed by the saddle, but by something far warmer, soft and firm at the same time, and with a much nicer smell.
She opened her eyes to the brilliance of dawn, and realized what it was. Al’s chest. And his arms were wrapped around her, one hand buried in her hair. One of her legs had decided to rest atop both of his, and her arms were twined around his waist.
He smelled good. God, he did, and he was so warm and hard underneath her. She lifted her head, wondering if she could slip away before he woke. But when she looked at his eyes, she found them open, staring into hers, a fire burning in their depths.
“Mon Dieu,” he whispered. “You are...so beautiful.”
His lips were only inches from hers, and pulling her closer, like magnets. Drawing her. She didn’t fight it. She let her mouth be tugged to his until their lips touched. And then Al’s arms tightened around her, and he kissed her. His mouth pushed at hers until she opened to him, then his tongue slid inside to lick and caress. She’d never known her mouth could be such an erogenous zone. She’d never been kissed like this. Tenderness and passion at once. She wanted him. It hit her like a bullet between the eyes. She wanted to make love to this man. Here. Now.
She was practically on top of him now, and as he continued kissing her, she moved the rest of the way. Her legs straddled his, and she felt his arousal pressing hard between them. But then his hands came to her shoulders, and gently, he lifted her away.
“Never,” he whispered, “has temptation been so difficult to resist.”
“For me, either.” She leaned forward to kiss him again, but he held her away.
“Yet resist I must.” He closed his eyes, as if in pain. “But if desire can kill a man, I’ll not live much longer.”
“Al, don’t...”
“We mustn’t. It was my vow, long ago—the code by which I’ve lived. I am your protector until you are safe. And only that.”
M. C. went stiff, staring down at him in disbelief. “You’re kidding, aren’t you?”
“If I make love to you now, Mary Catherine, my thoughts will be of nothing else for days to come. I will be distracted, even weakened by a desire this fierce, the memory of a pleasure sweeter than any I’ve known. No...I cannot.”
M. C. rolled off him and got to her feet. “Fine. That’s just fine with me, Al. I didn’t want to anyway!”
“I have hurt you.” He rose and came to stand behind her, his hands massaging her shoulders. “Make no mistake, ma chérie, were it not for my vow, for honor’s sake, I—”
“Oh, to hell with you and your damned honor.”
She pulled away, busied herself dousing the dwindling fire, scooping dirt over the coals.
“You do not mean that.”
“Let’s just get out of here, okay? Let’s just find a phone, call the D.A., and set up the appointment.”
He stood where he was. “This is as difficult for me as for you, Mary Catherine.”
She ignored him, embarrassed, downright stung by his rejection. “We’ll have to find a car. Can’t use Aunt Kate’s even if no one’s found it by now. The cops have probably called her by now—they’d have traced the plate number and—”
Mary Catherine stopped talking and bit her lip. “Oh my God.”
Al was beside her in a second, his hands gripping her shoulders again. “What it is?”
“The license plate. Oh, God, why didn’t I think of this last night? Al, Guido saw that plate. He can probably track down the car’s owner as easily as the police can!”
“Your aunt?” he asked, looking worried.
“She could be in danger. We have to call her, Al, tell her to get out of the house and lay low for a while.” She looked into his eyes, shook her head as a ball of dread formed in the pit of her stomach. “And we’d better do it fast.”
*
The woman was a bundle of contradictions. First she denied wanting him, a habit which had begun to make him doubt himself for the first time in recent memory. Then she’d made it all too clear that she did want him. And then she’d become angry, unable, or perhaps—as stubborn as she was—unwilling to understand his reasons. But all of that had fallen by the wayside when she’d realized she might have inadvertently put her aunt in danger.
As they rode side by side, he watched her. The way her eyes took on such intensity when she was worried. The way the wind tossed her dark hair and the morning sun made it gleam.
He’d wanted many women, had most of them. But never had he felt anything like what he was feeling now. It wasn’t just stronger, it was different. An entirely new brand of desire he’d never felt before. And it left him with the odd sense that everything he’d experienced before had been only a faint foreshadowing of this...this new and powerful feeling.
Would it fade once they’d given in to its demand and made love together? That was the way it usually worked for Alexandre. But he had a feeling it wouldn’t be the same this time. Nothing seemed the same this time.
When they finally arrived back at the farm, the farmer greeted them with a smile and a wave from his front porch. Mary Catherine was off her mount almost before it came to a stop, and heading up the steps. “Please,” she said breathlessly, “I need to use your phone. I’ll pay you for the call, but—”
“Sure, sure. Come on inside. So how was your ride? The horses look none the worse for wear.”
Mary Catherine didn’t answer, just hurried past him and into the house. Alexandre watched as the farmer leaned through the door and pointed, then turned to face him again, grinning expectantly.
Alexandre dismounted and took another gold coin from his pocket, handing it to the man.
“Thank you kindly,” the older man said, smiling.
Al nodded and turned to remove the saddles.
“Oh, now, don’t you bother with that.”
“The animals are hot,” Al said. “They need to be rubbed down.”
“And Tony will take care of it,” the farmer insisted. Then he cupped his hands and yelled, and a young man emerged from the barn. As he hurried across the lawn toward the house, the farmer said, “See, I took them coins you gave me yesterday into town this morning and had ‘em appraised. When I found out what they were worth, I figured I could afford to hire me a hand around here.”
Alexandre frowned. Perhaps Mary Catherine had been right about the coins’ value.
Tony arrived, looked at the horses, then at the farmer. “These are the ones? When’s the last time they were groomed, anyway?”
“Been a while,” the farmer said, chuckling. “Tony here is real experienced with horses. He’ll have ‘em in tip-top shape in no time.”
Alexandre saw the way the boy’s hands were already moving over the animals’ coats. It was obvious he not only knew about horses, but cared about them. At least one good thing had come of his visit here.
Then the bang of the door drew his gaze, and he saw Mary Catherine standing there, looking pale and wide-eyed.
“What is it, chérie! Did you reach your aunt with the telephone device?”
She nodded, closed her eyes. “Guido de Rocci answered the phone.”
Alexandre shook his head, not certain he understood.
“He’s there, at her house, Al,” she went on. “He has her, and he won’t let her go unless we give him the tape.”