Michael had pulled his horse to a stop when he’d heard the air splitting screams. He could only pray that it didn’t belong to someone he knew. There was a bend in the road behind him, so he couldn’t see—he could only hear. Horses were coming toward him and again he prayed. If those were the French approaching, then everything he loved and cared about in this world would be lost. He had no power to move as he sat there upon his horse, his eyes fixed on the bend while he held his breath.
“Did you see her?” Ryan yelled, rounding the corner with William close behind him.
Michael shook his head, his throat tightening.
Where is Alex?
He couldn’t seem to get the question out. All he could do was sit there and stare as Ryan and William slowed their horses, bringing them to a walk.
“She was magnificent,” Ryan said, his voice filled with excitement as he related Alexandra’s unbelievable feat to Michael.
“She what?” Michael shouted, suddenly finding his voice. “She could have been killed. Speaking of which . . . Where the hell is she?”
No sooner had he asked the question, than he spotted her coming toward them at an almost sedated gait. Her shoulders were slumped and her head hung forward, lolling to the beat of her mare’s walk. A whoosh of air escaped Michael’s lungs as he let out a deep sigh of relief. But as Alexandra came closer, his stomach clenched itself into a knot and his heart ached at the sight of her pain. Gone was the strong and fearless hoyden he knew. Before him sat a trembling woman, her face wracked with anguish as tears poured freely down her cheeks.
“Thank you,” William whispered as he reached out to grab her horse’s reins. “Had it not been for you . . . thank you.”
All Alexandra could do was nod. She was too overcome by the enormity of her own actions to be able to speak. She’d taken life without a second thought—just like that, as if it had meant nothing. Yet somewhere, each of those men had a set of parents, a wife, perhaps even children, all of whom loved them and worried for them. And in the blink of an eye, she’d altered the lives of all those people—people who were just now going about everyday things without a care in the world, until news of their son’s, husband’s, or father’s death would finally reach them. Then they would know grief, and the knowledge of having delivered such pain to the doorsteps of people she did not even know, was more than Alexandra could bear.
She felt an arm close about her waist and before she knew what was happening, she was being hauled onto another horse. Looking up, she saw Michael. The closeness of him, and the tenderness that shone in his eyes was enough to make her cry all the more. He hugged her against him, apparently not caring about her disheveled state or the blood staining her shirt. “You had no choice,” he whispered in her ear. “They would have killed your brothers. You did what you had to do, and you did it brilliantly.”
His words of praise brought on yet another wave of shaky tears, but in her heart, Alexandra knew that he was right.
Easing his horse into a slow trot, Michael started forward just as a loud crack split the air. Alexandra jerked against Michael’s chest when a second shot followed to the sound of whinnying horses. The frightened animals skittered about while their riders pulled frantically on the reins to steady them.
“What happened?” Alexandra yelled, looking about for the source of the sound.
“It seems one of Bonaparte’s men survived, Alex. Somehow he managed to stagger after us. He fired a shot, but it must have missed,” William told her as he looked toward the soldier who was now sprawled out upon the ground with his pistol still in his hand. “Ryan and I are both unharmed. How about you?”
“I’m fine,” she replied. “I—”
“Hold still!” Ryan yelled, turning his mount about and hurrying to her side. He reached Alexandra’s, side just in time to stop Michael from falling from the saddle.
“What the—” Alexandra gasped with horror when she turned to see Michael’s face, completely ashen, staring back at her.
“I’ll be fine,” he muttered, bracing himself against Ryan for support. “It’s merely a flesh wound, I’m sure.”
“You’ll be riding with me, Ashford,” William told him sternly. “Alex can ride with Ryan.”
“I said I’ll be fine. It barely even hurts. I’m sure it’s just a graze.”
“You were hit?” Alexandra’s voice came in a small whisper of disbelief.
“No need to trouble yourself about it, my dear. All things considered, there’s really . . . no reason for you to concern yourself about me now, just because I happen to be slightly injured.” He shot her a cheeky smile before turning his attention to William. “Come along then and give me a hand. I’m not sure if I can dismount gracefully without your assistance.”
Alexandra was simply stunned. She couldn’t quite believe that even though he’d just been struck by a bullet, Michael put her in her place. She felt as if she’d just been smacked.
As he slid from the horse with William’s and Ryan’s help, Alexandra finally caught sight of the blood. It was pooling beneath his shirt at the very top edge of his shoulder. Perhaps the bullet had just grazed him like he’d said. Still, there did seem to be an awful lot of blood. “Shouldn’t we tend to him before we do anything else?” she asked. She had no experience with this sort of thing. All she knew was that it looked really bad.
“Not on my life,” Michael growled. He hoisted himself up onto William’s horse a little awkwardly, wincing, no doubt in response to the pain. “We’re not risking the chance of failure because of this. Not after everything we’ve all been through, and not with all the people who depend on us to succeed. Pull yourself together, woman, it’s not as bad as it looks.”
Alexandra blinked. Was she just imagining it or did Michael seem brusquer with her than usual? Very well then, she thought as she grabbed hold of Ryan’s waist and felt the horse move beneath her. If Michael Ashford wished to bleed to death, then why the hell would she care? It wasn’t as if she loved him or anything. Besides, if he wanted to be in pain, then that was his prerogative. Still, she couldn’t help herself from thinking him a complete ass for being so damn stubborn.
It was almost eleven by the time they entered Brussels. Only a few people were about at that hour, all of them local citizens who were unable to help in locating Wellington’s whereabouts. They rode from street to street, hoping for some sign of where he might be staying, but soon discovered the enormity of such a task. Michael was looking visibly worse, though he did his best not to show it, but they all knew better and Alexandra didn’t miss the look of concern on William’s face.
At eleven forty-five, they came across three young men, all dressed in military uniforms and heading back to their quarters for the night. They were finally able to point them in the right direction, no more than a few streets away. By the time they arrived at Wellington’s headquarters, it was midnight, though candles still flickered from within.
William banged loudly on the door, and they were soon admitted by a young man whom they guessed to be the duke’s valet. Once inside, they wasted no time in stating their purpose and were quickly brought before the very man they’d been seeking.
“Your Grace.” William’s greeting echoed through the room as he bowed before the Duke. Righting himself, he gestured toward his companions. “May I present Lady Alexandra Summersby, Mr. Ryan Summersby, and Lord Trenton?”
All three made a courteous bow, including Alexandra who found it odd to courtesy without a dress. She cast a nervous glance in Michael’s direction and was relieved to see him standing straight and surprisingly upright.
Wellington nodded politely at each of them, but he did not smile. “I understand you’ve brought some news for me.” He eyed Alexandra who knew she was looking more and more like something that had just been dragged behind a cart.
“Yes, Your Grace,” William said. “If you’ll forgive our appearances—we decided time was of the essence.”
“Quite right.” Wellington squinted as he took in Michael’s bloodied shirt. “Will Lord Trenton be requiring medical assistance?”
William turned a questioning gaze on Michael.
“It’s very kind of you to offer, Your Grace,” Michael replied. “But I think we would all prefer to be on our way as soon as William here has said his peace. I thank you though.”
Without further ado, William conveyed what they knew as quickly and concisely as he was able to. Wellington stared at him for a silent moment afterward, before turning on his heel and marching across to a large oak table to look at a map. He murmured a few words to another military man dressed in equally prominent attire, pointed to a couple of places on the map and then looked across at them once more and frowned. “I wasn’t sure I ought to believe it until now,” he admitted. “But you have just confirmed how wrong I’ve been.”
Alexandra’s mouth fell open in shock at the duke’s show of self-deprecation. She’d heard rumors about him of course, but she’d never suspected he’d so openly admit to a tactical blunder. She had no clue as to what that blunder might be of course, but she felt that she was about to find out.
“Earlier today, I issued orders for my troops to gather at Nivelle in order to head off any attack coming from Mons,” Wellington said.
“But that will . . .” the words were out before Alexandra could stop them. She clamped her mouth shut and shifted uneasily as Wellington’s gaze met hers. An uncomfortable silence followed.
“Yes,” Wellington agreed with quiet firmness. “That will open the road between here and Charleroi, just as Bonaparte undoubtedly planned it.” He let out an agitated sigh before turning toward his companion. The other man was surprisingly unmoved by the sudden turn of events, his face set in a mask of sternness. “General, have a dispatch sent this instant to Nivelle.” Wellington told him. “I want the troops moved to Quatre Bras without further delay.”
“Yes, Your Grace.” The general bowed, turned sharply on his heels and departed with swift steps that rang through the air.
“Thank you,” Wellington told them. “I suspect you plan to return to England now.”
“You’re quite right,” William replied. “I think we’re all a bit eager to get home.”
“Well then, I wish you a safe journey. Will you please give my best to Sir Percy? It seems I would have been quite lost without his assistance. He has the best men . . . and women”—he added as his eyes moved to Alexandra—“working for him. You may tell him from me that you four might just have saved the day. We’ll see tomorrow, and the day after that, but I want you to know how grateful I am for your efforts.”
“That’s very kind of you, Your Grace,” William said.
“Now, if you will excuse me, it does appear as if there’s a battle to be won.”