Exclamations, good wishes, and effusive thanks were shared all around, then with his hand at the back of her waist, Gareth steered her inexorably to the carriages. Finally reaching the door of the first, she turned and waved one last time to the assembled throng, then she took the hand he offered, felt his fingers close strong and warm about hers, and felt that little thrill of delight-of feminine possessiveness-streak through her again. Drawing in a calming breath, she allowed him to help her into the sleek carriage.
Gareth turned to the crowd, and with a genuine but faintly strained smile, bowed and, in more formal words, thanked them. Then he turned to the carriage and climbed up, pulled up the steps and shut the door.
Bister and the coachman were already on the box waiting. Dorcas sat opposite Emily. Gareth claimed the seat beside her as a whip snapped showily, the horses leaned into the traces, and their carriage lurched, then rumbled through the mews and out onto the side street.
Cheers and farewells echoed, then faded as the houses closed around them. He glanced back as they rounded a corner, confirming that the second carriage, carrying Arnia and Mooktu, Watson and Mullins, with Jimmy currently up with the driver, was following close behind.
“I assume we’ll need to go slowly through the town.”
He glanced at Emily, and saw she was peering out of the other window. “Yes-and it might be better to stay back from the windows.”
“Oh.” She drew back immediately. “The cultists are out there somewhere, aren’t they?”
He nodded. They’d been able to forget that over the last day and a half. The Juneaux youngsters had taken positions at both ends of the street, keeping watch for cultists. Bister and Jimmy had supervised, but for the time they’d been under the Juneaux’ protection, they’d felt a great deal safer than they had in weeks.
In Gareth’s case, since leaving the Turkey Cock in Bombay, scroll holder in hand.
Emily and Dorcas played spot the monument as the two carriages preserved a decorous pace through the busy morning streets. Letting their disconcertingly normal exclamations and chatter wash over him, Gareth allowed himself to do something he hadn’t until that point-he thought of the other three, wondered where they were, how they were faring.
All four had been through thick and thin together, ridden side by side into battles uncounted. Even though the last years as commanders had seen them spend more of their time in the saddle apart, it hadn’t lessened their connection-that link that had been forged in the heat of battles in the Peninsula more than a decade before.
By choice, none of them knew what route any of the other three was taking home. He didn’t even know who was carrying the vital original of the document they had to deliver to the Duke of Wolverstone to ensure the end of the Black Cobra’s reign-he only knew it wasn’t him. His was a decoy’s mission, the parchment in his scroll holder, identical to the other three, no more than a copy.
But the Black Cobra and the cultists didn’t know that. Given what was at stake, he had fully expected the Cobra to chase him regardless. In that, he hadn’t been disappointed, which was all to the good.
Yet on this last leg before England, his orders from the man who had for years been known only as Dalziel were specific. He and his party were to do all they could to draw as many of the enemy as possible, and to reduce their numbers as much as fate permitted.
He’d interpreted those orders as indicating that whoever was carrying the vital original would also pass through the Continent on their way to England. Whichever of his three friends was running that most dangerous of gauntlets, their safety in part depended on him-on how effectively he carried out his mission.
He’d set out from India with Bister, Mooktu, and Arnia, all of whom-even Arnia-could take care of themselves in a fight. With just those three in his train, he’d been free to engage the enemy whenever and wherever he could.
But now he had Emily, Dorcas, Jimmy, Mullins, and Watson as well. Mullins could hold his own, but the other four, no matter their resourcefulness, weren’t safe in a fight. All four needed protection, Emily most of all.
Especially Emily, especially now…now she’d come to mean so much to him.
So much more than he’d imagined was possible, than he’d known could possibly be.
As the horses trudged on, he gazed, unseeing, out of the window at the passing streetscapes, and wondered how he was going to carry out his orders while keeping her, and the others who were important to her-all now in his care-safe.
They’d passed through the town center and were ambling through the northern suburbs, already on the highway that would take them to Lyon and beyond, when he became aware of Emily’s gaze on his face.
The feminine commentary had ceased. One glance revealed that Dorcas was already nodding, her eyes closed.
Turning his head, he met Emily’s bright gaze.
Tilting her head, she smiled. “I was wondering…you told me you’re an only child, but do you have cousins, other family?”
They were to marry, so she needed to know. He shook his head. “No. There’s just me, now. My parents were only children, too. They married later in life, so were older when I was born. My father was a vicar, but he was one of those the archdiocese used to fill vacancies temporarily, so we constantly moved about the county.” He held her gaze. “So I have no family, and there really isn’t anywhere I call home.”
“Where were you born?”
“Thame, Oxfordshire. You?” Turnabout was fair, and he wanted to learn about her more than he wanted her to learn about him. There was so little to tell.
Happiness lit her face as she said, “I was born at Eldridge Hall, my parents’ house-it’s just outside Thornby, in Northamptonshire. That’s home-for me, and all my brothers and sisters. At least it was until they married-there’s only me and Rufus still left in the nest, as it were, but the others visit often.”
“You’re one of eight, as I recall. I take it you have lots of cousins, too?” That, he realized, explained her ease with the Juneaux, her facility in interacting with them-something he’d lacked. Not that he’d known he’d lacked, not until he’d seen her engage with the large family in a way he would never have thought to do…probably couldn’t have done even if he’d wished. He simply didn’t know how, didn’t know the ways.
“Yes, there’s quite a clan-a horde of uncles, aunts, and cousins on both sides.”
He didn’t need to ask how she got on with her family-the answer was there in her affectionate smile, in the light that glowed in her eyes.
He’d never shared that sort of connection with anyone, not when he was a child, not later…until he’d joined the Guards and, from the first, had fallen in with Del, Rafe, and Logan.
“I don’t have any siblings”-he met her eyes-“but you might say I have brothers-in-arms.”
She looked into his eyes, studied them. “Those three in the officers’ mess?”
He nodded. She didn’t ask, didn’t press, but as they rolled on up the highway and the northern outskirts of Marseilles fell behind, he told her how he’d met the other three-told her tales of their exploits and adventures. When she laughed, he asked about her brothers and sisters, and she reciprocated, opening his eyes to a love he’d never known. The closest thing to it was the camaraderie, the connection, he shared with the other three, yet even that fell short of the warmth, depth, and breadth of togetherness Emily described, that she’d experienced and embraced within her family.
The more she told him, the more he yearned for something he’d never known. When he married her…
The thought circled in his brain as he and she fell silent, and the carriage rumbled steadily on.
“He is like a cobra himself.” The eldest of the three cultists sent to watch the highway leading north out of Marseilles hawked and spat on the rocky ground. “I would not be angering Uncle for anything today. He was in such a mood after the others from the docks came yesterday to report that they hadn’t seen the major or his party.”
The three were perched among rocks and boulders on a shoulder overlooking the highway.
The youngest grinned slyly. “Those men were lucky. I heard Akbar say that Uncle has lost so many men already that he won’t discipline any-he needs every able-bodied man he has, at least for now.”
“Ah-that explains it.” The third man nodded. “I have never known Uncle to be so lenient before. Usually, one mistake, and-” He drew his finger across his throat. “The cult does not tolerate failure.”
“This is true.” The eldest nudged the youngest with the toe of his boot. “You will be wise to remember that if- as seems likely-the major manages to take this road north before the others can catch him in the town. If that happens, Uncle will gather most of us and head north in pursuit-and I know for a fact that the Black Cobra has
