wondering why it pained him more than anything ever had to see her balled up under the covers, shuddering when she silently cried.
Simply taking care of her was so far beyond his realm of experience, it was staggering. Much less that he was caring for a woman who blamed him for her brother's death.
In less than three days under his protection, she'd been marked for death by a fanatical order of assassins and shot. He'd known he was shadowed in life, could bring ruin to those he cared for, but this was ridiculous. Still, a selfish part of him thought, Better than married to Pascal.
Today as they rode, closing in on the posting house, he reasoned that this was not the curse raining down on him. He'd made a decision that affected her badly. Nothing metaphysical or mystical about it. Besides, he didn't care for her—he took care of her, and only temporarily. Just to get her to safety.
He stopped to wait until she caught up with him. She sat very still in the saddle, staring blankly ahead, looking small in her bright dress and wrapper. This couldn't go on any longer. She needed to stay close to him because they weren't out of danger by any means. He reined his horse around to tell her she needed to buck up—
He turned, saw movement from the corner of his eye, and spotted a cross tattoo.
A Rechazado attacked her from the brush.
'You can't just leave me here,' Olivia snapped, her face red with fury, her full lips thinned.
She'd demanded he stop at an inn for food—Aleix hadn't been hungry, wouldn't be until he found his sister and got her away from the Scot. Things became clear.
He knew better than to try to reason with her, but still said, 'I will return for you, but right now finding Annalía is my primary concern.'
She leaned forward over the table they'd taken, planting her elbows between plates. 'Dealing with Annalía will take longer. Best to complete the bargain with me.'
He leaned forward as well, catching her gaze. 'Not a chance. That's not the order.'
'So you won't honor our deal until you find her?'
'Correct.'
'Then obviously I must expedite the search.'
He gave her a short, harsh laugh. 'I'm going on alone. We're already at least a week behind them.'
She crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair. 'You need me. This MacCarrick is a villain. I am a villain. I know how he'll think.'
He had to hear this. 'Please, share your wisdom.'
'Our leads indicate he's alone with Annalía. Highlanders are clannish people. He'll be quick to meet up with his men.'
'Very good. Any notion of where that will be?'
'They'll have a predetermined meeting place. Somewhere rural where a group like them won't attract so much attention, but close to a large city where they can find ammunition.'
His eyes narrowed. 'Toulouse?'
'Is the first possibility.'
Aleix had suspected she had more information about the Highlanders than she was presenting, and now his suspicion grew. She was cunning, and knowing her, she would deal it out piecemeal, using it as leverage.
Damn it, he'd have to keep her with him. But only until she no longer proved useful. 'We've got to ride faster.'
She stood and gave him a bored look. 'I'm waiting on you.'
The assassin dragged Annalía down with little effort. Court spurred his mount—she wasn't fighting. Why the hell—
His horse's head was wrenched to the side. Court took his eyes from Annalía to find another Rechazado had snatched the harness and trained a pistol on him. Court stared down at the hollow black barrel, a chilling sight he'd hoped never to see this close again. If it hadn't been a foot away, he would've chanced it—the other was pulling Annalía into the bushes.
He'd never forget what happened next. She screamed. She screamed, and he didn't care if he got shot. To hell with it. Court kicked out, catching the Rechazado's arm just as the sound distracted him. Luck was with him, and the gun flew to the side. Court dove from the saddle at him.
As they wrestled, the man drew a smaller pistol. They grappled for control.
Before his injuries, Court would've been stronger, but now…now the man could win. And if he did…Court yelled with rage—suddenly felt as strong as he'd been before. A shot rang out.
The man stared up, eyes growing blank, blood steeping his shirt in an even circle from his heart.
Court snagged the other pistol, sprinted for Annalía, then forced himself to slow, to surprise the one who had her. He looked past the bushes and found a scene he'd never expected—Annalía standing with the Rechazado unconscious at her feet and a bloody rock by his head.
Most likely one she'd been saving for Court. That's why she hadn't fought. She hadn't wanted to drop it.
Stunned, he watched her kick the man in the gut, then scan the woods, no doubt deciding where to run from Court.
'Annalía, stay,' he ordered, though he was scarcely able to keep the disbelief out of his voice. She turned to him and rolled her eyes, but she didn't run.
When he reached her, he clasped her good arm, 'Are you unhurt? Is your arm all right?'
She shrugged.
'Did the shot frighten you?'
'No. I saw him tussling with you over the pistol.'
He dropped her arm abruptly. 'I'm glad you dinna wait around to see if I would live.' In truth, he was glad she'd planned to get away, no matter how riled he sounded.
She squinted at him as if she didn't recognize him. 'Tell me again why I should care about that outcome?'
He scowled until she asked, 'Is he one of Pascal's men?'
'Aye.'
'Did I kill him?'
Court saw his chest rise and shook his head. When she bent to pick up her rock again, he strode over and took it from her hands. 'You doona want to kill him.' Court would do that. Retribution for touching her.
'I really do.'
'No, Anna.' When she continued reaching for it, he added, 'It'll do things to you. No' worth it.'
She informed him crisply, 'I—need—that—anyway.'
He held it high from her. 'For me?'
She nodded without shame.
Clever, brave woman. His brows drew together as he remembered the way he'd reacted to the thought of her being hurt. The way he'd decided a bullet between his eyes was incidental to the need to save her.
He swore under his breath.
'What was that?'
'Nothing. Why don't we wake up this son of a bitch and find out how many more are coming?' Her eyes widened, and he could tell she hadn't thought about that prospect. She looked alive for the first time in days. He heaved the rock away, then bent down to slap the man, but whipped his head back around. 'Annalía, doona think of hitting me again.'
'Two with one stone,' she said waspishly.
'Be smart. They'll keep coming. You must prefer me over them?'
'I prefer none of you.'
'They will no' kill you at first.'
Her face paled, and she finally said, 'Very well.'
He recognized the man before him. He was called Ruiz the Scarred. Court only remembered him because the moniker fit so well. When the assassin roused, he spit blood.
Court had always been heartless in battle, emotionless with the enemy. Now he felt rage building once more, making him hide his clenched fists from Annalía. This was a man who wanted to murder a defenseless
