Falling for the Enemy

He paused, and Westerfield coughed again from where he lay. As beautiful and earnest as she might seem, he couldn’t risk his brother, risk them all, based on the word of a woman who’d already proved herself untrustworthy.

He knelt behind her. “Put your hands behind your back.”

She kept her fists anchored firmly by her sides and looked away but couldn’t hide the slight tremble in her jaw.

He tugged her hands behind her back, her skin far too soft for one who seemed so fierce.

Blast! He was letting her charms play tricks on his mind. So she was beautiful. He’d seen many a beautiful woman before, all dressed in finer clothes than Danielle Belanger, with jewels dangling from their necks and fingers and coiffures. Simpering, delicate creatures who wouldn’t have lasted five minutes in the woods, let alone know how to use a knife or attempt to escape a band of strange men.

But Danielle didn’t fight him now. She didn’t speak, didn’t even look at him as he began to tie.

Why wasn’t she begging, pleading, attempting to struggle?

A faint bead of moisture slipped down her cheek to glisten in the firelight, and she sucked in a long, quivering breath. Perfect. Instead of fighting him like the woman two hours ago would have done, she now struggled against tears.

Yet another thing Eton and Cambridge hadn’t taught him. How to tie up a captive woman so she couldn’t escape. Or what to do with one when she cried.

Useless schools, the both of them.

He tightened the knot as much as he dared against her tender wrists, then stood, tossing another length of rope to Serge. “Tie your sister’s ankles.”

“Non.” Hatred radiated from the boy’s eyes.

“Either you tie her legs, or I will. But in the end, her ankles will still be bound.”

Serge reached for the remainder of rope, and Gregory dug the heel of his boot into the dirt as he watched. He was making a muck of everything. Serge hadn’t despised him until now. Sure, Danielle had wanted naught to do with them from the first, but the boy had been much more amicable, helpful even.

Gregory couldn’t let them escape and call in gendarmes, yet neither could they travel to the coast with two guides who hated them. He had to find some way to make amends and change their minds about helping, or this was going to be the longest, most miserable journey in the history of Europe.

But how exactly could he convince a humiliated woman and her angry brother to help him? Somehow, he didn’t think a nice little apology was going to repair things.

* * *

Danielle lay back on her makeshift pallet, her hands bound behind her back and her ankles tied tightly together while hot tears of mortification welled behind her eyes. She had no one to blame but herself for this situation, she supposed. She was too rash, always too rash. Papa and Maman had told her so numerous times over the years, but what did she do over and over again? Run headlong into a situation, waiting until she had herself well and truly tangled before she stopped to think that maybe, just maybe, she should have slowed down enough to mull things over before she’d acted.

’Twas probably the reason no decent man wished to wed her. Who wanted to be bound for life to a woman who always created trouble?

Like tonight, she should have agreed to guide Halston and his friends. Why had she not thought it through first? She could have guided them straight to a gendarmerie post and no one would have been the wiser until it was too late. Instead, she’d proudly defied them.

Why, oh, why hadn’t she just pretended to be a simple girl from the provinces, eager to do anything for a bit of coin?

Maybe because she was neither simple nor willing to do anything for coin. Her parents had instilled principles into her far too well. Plus, she was a terrible liar and likely would have given herself away.

Even so, no one had ever warned her having principles and staying fixed on doing what was right could lead her here. To being tied up while a bunch of Englishmen milled around. To being forced into acting as a guide when she should be running through the woods toward a gendarmerie post.

“Don’t cry, Dani.” Serge plopped down beside her, chewing yet another piece of salt pork as he faced her on the blankets. “Everything will be all right.”

“Easy for you to say...” She pressed her eyes shut. How could she even look at her brother while she lay trussed up like some animal? “You’re not the one being made into a spectacle.”

He sighed, long and heavy. “Dani, if you don’t want to be a spectacle, then don’t act like one.”

“I wasn’t trying...oh, forget it.” She moistened her parched lips and glanced at Kessler and Halston sitting beside the sickbed arguing over something or other. “At least they didn’t tie you, too. That should make our escape easy enough.”

Serge cast a quick glance toward the darkened woods. “Figured we’d wait until everyone was asleep, and then I’d untie you.”

Untie her. Like she was some captive animal rather than a person. A fresh wave of humiliation welled inside her chest. “Lie down here and get some sleep. The sooner we go to bed, the sooner everyone else will.”

Serge scrambled down onto the blankets beside her. “Are you going to pretend sleep? If we both truly sleep, we might miss our chance.”

She winced as rope bit into her wrists. Of course, if she stopped trying to loosen her bindings, they probably wouldn’t bite so much. Serge would be freeing her in a few hours, so she could stop struggling and simply wait. But truly, how was she to sit docilely and not attempt to loosen the ropes even a little?

“Danielle?” Serge blinked up at her. “Are you going to stay awake, then?”

“Don’t worry, even if I doze off, I won’t be able to sleep long with these ropes cutting into my skin.”

His eyes turned soft as he watched her. “I’m sorry, Dani. Really, I am. The Englishmen seemed nice enough, and they’ve got that sick man on the other side of the fire. I didn’t think they’d hurt us.”

“Of course they’ll hurt us. Have you forgotten we’re at war with them?”

“But they’re people just the same. And if one of us was sick and needed help, I’d like to think...” His words trailed off as another grotesque cough filled the air.

“That doesn’t mean we need to be nice to them,” she snapped. “Or that they need to be nice to us. Now lie down and sleep. You’ll need all your strength if you’re going to keep up with me tonight.”

“All right.” He rolled over, presenting his back to her as he snuggled in for slumber.

On the other side of the fire, Halston pushed his tall form up from where he sat and approached. In his hands he held a blanket torn into strips and then knotted together formed a makeshift rope. Were they planning to gag her as well?

“Non.” Danielle scooted herself back on the pallet as best she could with both her hands and feet tied.

“It’s not for you but your brother.”

“For me?” Serge pushed himself up to a sitting position.

“You can’t tie him. He hasn’t—” She clamped her mouth shut. She was going to give their escape plan away if she panicked again.

Halston quirked an arrogant, dark eyebrow at her. “You were saying?”

“Nothing.”

“Put your hands behind your back, Serge,” he commanded.

Her brother’s gaze shot fiery little arrows toward the Englishman. “I didn’t do anything.”

“It’s whether you plan to do anything once the rest of us are asleep that I question.”

“So you’re going to tie me with a blanket?” he scoffed.

“We’re out of rope. It will have to do.”