Miss Burton Unmasks a Prince (25 page)

Rodrigo released the weapon and slumped to the ground. His stomach churned, and he shook as the realization of what had just taken place crashed over him.

His mind began to go numb, and ice spread from his core. To say that he was shaken was a gross understatement. He did not feel heroic and strong. Instead he was horrified and thought he’d be ill.

He looked toward Meg, afraid of seeing the fear in her eyes directed at him. Would she think him a monster? Before he had a chance of more than a glance at her expression, Meg flung herself at him. She wrapped her arms around him, pressing her face into his chest. The noises she made were a strange combination of laughter and weeping, and irrationally, the sound calmed Rodrigo.

“You are safe now,” he heard himself say, as he patted her back.

Meg lifted her head. Trails of tears streaked down her cheeks, shining in the darkness as she knelt in front of him. “
I
am safe?” She pressed her palms on his cheeks, leaning her forehead against his. “You silly prince. I am not concerned one fig about my own safety, not when—” Her eyes darted toward the man on the ground. “I have never been so terrified.” She moved backward and examined Rodrigo. Her eyes narrowed as she lifted his arms, studied the cuts, and then poked her fingers into his slashed waistcoat. “I do not think you’re seriously injured,” she said. “But we should find a surgeon to wrap your wounds.”

She stood and offered her hands to help him to rise. Rodrigo shook his head, a tired smile playing over his mouth. How did this little woman lend him such strength? He stood and angled himself to block Meg’s view of the dead soldier. He didn’t want to pull his blade from where it protruded out of the man’s body, finding it easier to take the weapon from the soldier’s hand. Luckily the sword appeared to be standard issue and fit into the scabbard at Rodrigo’s waist. He found that he could not look at the man’s face and turned back toward Meg.

Her hand slipped into his. Rodrigo glanced down at her. Her hair was untidy. Most of the curls had come loose and hung over her shoulders. She wore a fisherman’s rough clothing and Rodrigo’s oversized jacket. Her eyes were swollen, and her shoulders drooped in fatigue. Rodrigo could not imagine any sight more lovely.

Rodrigo glanced back toward the cottage. The men could escape and pursue them at any moment, but he was too exhausted to do more than walk down the road. Luckily they were near the copse of trees, and soon the cottage was blocked from their view.

“I thought I had lost you,” Meg said softly. “I do not want to ever feel that way again.”

Rodrigo stopped and pulled on their joined hands until she stepped toward him. He wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her close. Lifting her chin, he skimmed his fingers over her forehead, brushing the loose hair from her face. “You will never lose me, Margarita. No matter what may happen.

Meg closed her eyes, and her face relaxed.

It was the perfect scenario. What else could Rodrigo do but kiss her? He swept his lips over hers, eliciting a small feminine sigh that propelled a flash of heat through his veins. He pushed his fingers into her soft curls, cradling her head, and pulled her close until her lips were a breath away.

He jerked at the sudden sound of hoofbeats and pulled Meg into the cover of the trees. They crouched behind a bushy undergrowth and waited for the horses to approach, whether from the cottage or the other direction, he could not tell. Had the soldiers escaped already? Were French reinforcements approaching? How could he possibly defend them if they were discovered? Remaining hidden was their only hope. “Do not move,” he whispered, certain that the banging of his heartbeat would reveal them.

Meg hid her face against his shoulder; her hands were clamped painfully around his arm.

The riders approached, not from the cottage, but from the main road, and once they were near enough to perceive, Rodrigo nearly laughed aloud as his tensed muscles slacked. He moved to stand, but Meg’s iron grip pulled him back.

“We are saved,” he said, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Come, Margarita.” He pulled her to her feet, and they stepped from the tree cover to hail the horsemen.

A large detachment of Spanish and British soldiers stopped at his call. His eyes moved over the group, and the relief that poured over him nearly caused him to slump to the ground.

Colonel Stackhouse was off his horse and at their side in an instant, and Rodrigo didn’t think he had ever been so glad to see anyone in his entire life. The colonel’s gaze took in the situation immediately, calling for someone to tend to Rodrigo’s wounds. His eye settled on Meg, and a smile bent his lips. “I see we have the source of the pearl trail. Ingenious, Miss Burton, though I’d have expected nothing less.”

Rodrigo put his arm around her shoulder and squeezed, fiercely proud of Meg’s cleverness.

A soldier brought a rag and a canteen and began to clean the slashes on Rodrigo’s arms. He winced and finally shook the man off.

“But how did you know to search for us?” Meg asked. “We thought it would be hours before anyone noticed we were missing.”

The duke approached from the group of horses and men. He laid a hand on Rodrigo’s shoulder. “Your sister was quite distressed when the two of you did not turn up for the waltz,” he said. “She was certain something criminal was afoot, and I know better than to mistrust my wife’s instincts.” He pulled a booklet from his pocket and handed it to Meg. “Your dance card was found when we searched the grounds.”

“Meg?”

They all turned toward the speaker as he approached.

“Daniel.” Meg rushed into her brother’s arms, and he led her away from the group. Rodrigo watched as they spoke softly, and after a moment, Daniel wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into an embrace and kissing the top of her head. A pang of jealousy shot through Rodrigo, but he stifled it. He hoped he’d have plenty of opportunities to hold and comfort Meg.

The captain of the Spanish guard approached and bowed.

Rodrigo nodded, giving the man permission to speak.

“Your Highness, I cannot begin to apologize for our error. It is completely inexcusable, and I take full responsibility—”

Rodrigo held up his hands, cutting off the man’s words. “We haven’t time for apologies, Capitán Fernández. I need you to listen.” He told the group everything that had happened from the moment the soldiers stepped out of the woods behind the greenhouse. Colonel Stackhouse, the duke, and the capitán attended intently as he related the soldiers’ conversation.

“Pierrefonds? The chateau?” Colonel Stackhouse said when Rodrigo had finished. “I had heard that the Emperor purchased it, but it’s little more than a ruin.”

“A well-guarded ruin if Napoleon is truly detaining prisoners there,” Capitán Fernández said. “We shall formulate a rescue mission at once, Your Highness.”

Rodrigo rubbed the back of his neck. “I worry that we might be too late. If they are transferred or . . .” He didn’t voice his fear aloud, trusting the men to understand his concern. “If these soldiers are in reality traveling to the location where my parents are being held, perhaps—”

“You think to join them,” Colonel Stackhouse said.

“No, Your Highness. It is too dangerous,” the duke and Capitán Fernández both said at the same time but in different languages.

Rodrigo folded his arms across his chest, wincing at the stinging of the cuts on his forearms. “I understand the risk, but I feel as though this may be our only chance. It is the closest we have come after months of searching, and we still have the advantage. They will not expect that the prison’s location has been compromised or that you follow. If I do not go with them, they could relocate my parents, and we will be as ignorant as before.”

Colonel Stackhouse tapped his finger on his chin, looking toward the trees as he spoke. “The chateau is more than one hundred miles from Calais and near to Paris, which makes it a gamble. But if a company were to enter by way of Belgium . . .” He squinted his eye and turned his gaze to Rodrigo. “But I fear, Your Highness, such an operation could take the better part of a month at least. And that does not consider
after
your parents, and you, are rescued—if the operation is successful, that is. We’ll need to plan for not only an escape from the chateau, but from the very center of our enemy’s territory.”

“But do you believe it to be worth the danger if there is even a slight possibility?” Rodrigo asked.

Colonel Stackhouse nodded his head. “Aside from the sheer folly of placing oneself willingly in the hands of the enemy and the inherent risk of traveling as a prisoner behind enemy lines, Your Highness. I can see that this is a viable plan. Risky, to be sure, but it may be the only opportunity we have. And the value of having a man on the inside, that in and of itself greatly increases the chances of success.”

“I must try,” Rodrigo said as his gaze slipped in Meg’s direction. His chest was tight, and a sour taste arose in his mouth when he realized the consequences of his decision.

The colonel placed his hand upon Rodrigo’s shoulder, which, from the colonel, was the equivalent of an effusive embrace. “I fear there is also the matter of your sister’s anger to contend with. I don’t want to be the one to deliver the news to her.”

“Nor I,” muttered the duke.

Rodrigo’s heart sank further. He would be leaving behind the two people he cared for more than any other. Could Meg and Serena possibly understand?

Colonel Stackhouse continued, “You’ll need to leave immediately. I do not believe you will find it difficult to be recaptured as the soldiers surely fear their commander’s reprimand at having lost their prisoners. Go now, and the capitán and I will see to the arrangements for your rescue. A ship will have to drop off a party secretly on a stretch of unpatrolled Belgian shoreline. But that’s what we’ve intelligence operatives for, is it not?”

Capitán Fernández nodded his head, though he did not look as though he agreed with the plan in the least.

Colonel Stackhouse gazed back at the trees. “It sounds like a grand operation, men. Sticking it to old Boney right beneath his Frenchy nose.” He sighed, and his expression appeared almost wistful. “I’m sorry to say I’ll not be able to accompany you. I am still not cleared for active duty, and there is the matter of . . .” The colonel cleared his throat uncomfortably.

“The matter of your forthcoming marriage to Lady Featherstone,” the duke said, winking. “Another lady I would not want angry with me.”

“Yes, well.” The colonel adjusted his cravat. “You have a bit of explaining to do yourself, Your Highness.” He nodded in Meg’s direction. “And then you must hasten.”

Rodrigo shook hands with the three men. He wished the colonel congratulations on his engagement and reassured Capitán Fernández that he was doing what was best for his parents and his country. Rodrigo’s throat tightened when he bid the duke farewell and sent his love to his sister. “Do not allow Lord Featherstone near Meg,” he said to the duke. “And please care for my horse.” The duke nodded his understanding, and Rodrigo departed.

His feet were heavy as he walked toward where Meg and Daniel stood. “Mr. Burton, with your permission, may I speak to your sister privately?”

Daniel bowed. “Of course, Your Highness.”

Rodrigo led Meg away from the group. When they had walked far enough to avoid being overheard, he stopped and turned her toward him.

Meg grasped his hands. “Rodrigo, we did it. We can go home now!” Her eyes shone in the moonlight, and his insides sank further. Into his boots.

He lifted her hand in his, brushing his knuckle over her cheek. “Meg, I cannot go back to the castle with you.”

Her joyful expression did not change except for a slight squinting of her eyes. “I do not understand. What do you mean?”

“I must go to France. My parents . . .We do not know if we will have another opportunity to find them.”

The crease appeared above Meg’s nose. Her carriage stiffened. “You would allow yourself to be recaptured? But you cannot do such a thing. The soldiers can find your parents.”

“I am the only one who can get inside the prison. It is the best chance of rescuing them.”

Meg took a step back and shook her hand from his. “No, this is a terrible idea. We just got away, and you would— It is
France
, Rodrigo.”

“I must.”

She looked up at him through her lashes. Pools of tears filled her eyes and spilled over, leaving trails down her cheeks. Meg brushed them away impatiently with her palms. “You said I would never lose you. We are
compañeros de aventura.
”

Hearing her voice hitch as she said the words with her drawling accent made Rodrigo’s throat scratchy. The ache in his chest grew so intense he didn’t know if he would be able to endure it. He framed her face with his hands. “Meg, if you ask me, I will stay.”

“Then stay. Please stay.” Her tears began to run over his hands.

Rodrigo touched his forehead to hers. He pressed his eyes shut but opened them when Meg placed her own palms against his cheeks.

She shook her head, the look of defiance in her eyes softened into defeat. She swallowed heavily, and her shoulders slumped. “I see that you must do this,” she whispered. “I will not ask you to stay.”

“I promise that I will return.”

“You know you cannot make such a promise.”

“But I will. I promise I will return to you, Margarita.” He covered her lips with his, pouring every ounce of himself into the kiss. His heart trembled with his need for her to understand the depths of his feelings for her. Rodrigo’s mind spun with memories of laughter, tears, poems, and adventures; Meg had brought back a joy for life after a cynical, proud man believed it to be gone.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, clinging to him as her breath hitched in a sob.

Rodrigo pulled away, gently loosening her arms. His throat was so tight that all he could manage was a whisper. “I promise.” He stroked her cheek once more and ran toward the cottage.

He glanced back once. The sight of Meg kneeling upon the ground with her brother holding her as she sobbed caused his eyes to blur with tears of his own. He drove himself forward gasping at the force of the pain in his heart. He must return to Meg. He must.