When Lightning Strikes (29 page)

Navarre was a living, breathing, movie-quality psycho and back in this century people like that walked around loose wreaking havoc unless they somehow got caught and locked in a dungeon somewhere. Sometimes, even that wasn’t enough to stop them.

“I believe what you say.” She sighed heavily and folded
her hands nervously together. “So then – what are we going to do? Should we just keep running to the border?”

“Yes,” he said flatly. “If he catches up to us, I will kill him and all his men if necessary.”

“And what if they outnumber us? I mean what if there are like a hundred of them?”

He sighed. “I suppose I will worry about that when the time comes. I will not allow him to take you though – even if he kills me. I will see to it that a plan is in place to get you safely away before he can take you.”

“And how will you propose to do that? I’m NOT leaving you! I’m staying here…I can fight.”

He smiled at her and shook his head. “You will not, Sarah. You would be no match for a trained swordsman.”

“Why? I am strong! You have seen how strong I am when you wrestled me down the hill the morning after you found me. You are an expert with knives. Can’t you teach me?”

He stared at her. She was right. But she still would not be able to hold her own against a trained soldier. Besides, there was no time to teach her while they were out here on the move. Perhaps a few knife tricks, but not swordsmanship.

“Sarah.” He sighed. “It is impossible. There is no time. It would take you a few seasons of practice to get good enough to fight, even if you had the strength. It is very noble of you to want to stay at my side though.”

“I’m not leaving you. I don’t care what you say. I’ll die first. If they killed you – I don’t have any reason to keep living anyway.” Her eyes welled up with tears.

“For now you must sleep so you have the strength when the time comes if need be.”

He pulled her close and held her to him. There was no arguing with this woman. He would just have to give Marco instructions of what to do in the event he needed to get her out of here fast. In the meantime, he supposed there was no harm in giving her a dagger for protection. Later, after they crossed the border he would teach her a few knife tricks and some sword skills. Perhaps she could learn quickly and it could save her life
someday, whether he was around or not. After all she had indeed proven herself to be strong and sound-minded enough to have escaped from Navarre.

He kissed Sarah’s forehead and covered her as she lay down on the wagon bed. She was asleep almost instantly despite her protests of not being tired anymore. He had seen the deep lines of fatigue under her eyes.

He tied his long hair back with a thin leather string as stretched his tired muscles and stepped out of the wagon, heading back to his horse. They needed to get moving again. He and Marco could take turns resting later after they reached Normandy.

His thoughts traveled again to the knowledge that he now held that he – Dominic du Barbaronne was the true and only son of Thomas de Lyonne. With that knowledge
came the certainty that running to another country was not going to stop Navarre from trying to find him.

He also knew with the same certainty, that come hell or fire he was going to get his wife and his people to safety and then he would go alone to face his enemy, well armed and well prepared.

He pictured his pretty wife lying there asleep in the wagon. She looked just as she had when he found her lying under the tree with her golden hair fanned out around her and it reminded him of how his life had been turned upside down these past days. Hell, come to think of it, his life had always been that way in some way or another. This however, had been the senior ordeal of his entire existence so far. And yet, it had been well worth every second.

And, at least everything made sense now. The pieces all fit together as one…why Navarre hated him with such venom for so many years even though he and Mara had stayed far, far out of reach and why he had stolen Sarah away when he got the chance. It was not just to drive him mad with fury but also to cover up the fact he had murdered his wife! Sarah had through misfortune, shown up at the exact time the event took place and apparently she was an almost identical twin of Lady Melissande.

Moreover, he now also understood all too well why he had taunted Sarah with the threat of being imprisoned for impersonating a noble if she refused to go with him. He was indeed the one passing himself off as nobility!

Dominic’s features took on the look of calm assuredness of the leader he was. He smiled to himself secure in his knowledge that the accuser was soon to become the accused and there would be no lands and title to protect him. It was all just a matter of time and he hoped that time would be on their side.

Chapter Thirty-Three

After three long hours of riding, patiently following the trail of the gypsies, Navarre’s mood was growing fouler by the minute. His arm had yet to stop throbbing, his head was pounding and his eyes felt dry and glassy. No matter. They were gaining on the vagabonds and he knew it. The slow, bulky gypsy wagons riding along the dusty roads and open fields would soon be their undoing and the pain, the fever and the damnable patience it was taking to keep his control would all be worth it.

He knew now though, that in order to have as much strength as he could muster, he needed to stop for a short break to drink some water to cool his body and perhaps wash and re-bind his wounded arm. The bleeding had slowed to a trickle now because he had tied the binding so tight, but he had lost a considerable amount of blood. He was feeling weak – but he wasn’t going to admit it nor succumb to it! Not when he was so close to the moment he had so long awaited.

He slowed his horse and turned to the men. “We must stop for a short rest. I need water and I need to tend to my wound.” He dismounted and walked for a few moments feeling drained and weak.

One of the soldiers came forward.

“My lord, are you alright? You look pallid and you have bled quite badly.”

Navarre waved him off. “I am well. Begone.”

The soldier nodded though his eyes spoke of his disagreement. “As you wish, milord. We are not far behind them. Shall we use immediate force? Shoot on site?” The man bent over to stretch his own tired legs and back as he awaited his orders.

Navarre’s pale face looked like a mask of stone.

“No. Bring them to a halt and I will instruct you from there. But no matter what you do, du Barbaronne is mine alone. See to it that Melissande is taken from him immediately but do not take her directly home, just keep her out of harm’s reach. She will ride back with me.”

The soldier nodded and walked off.

He smiled to himself. Yes, indeed. He wanted to make sure that the wench watched as he killed her gypsy lover so she would have no hope of him rescuing her again. Perhaps then she would be more amenable to joining in this little charade.

He sat down on the ground taking several huge gulps of water from his skin. Carefully he removed his tunic and his shirt and began
unwrapping the bandage that held the deeply torn flesh of his arm together. The bandage had stuck to the wound and it immediately began to bleed as he pulled it away.

Pain shot up and down his entire arm and into his shoulder and he grimaced with it. Angry red lines had begun to appear around the wound and he knew it meant infection was setting in. He had seen this sort of thing all too many times on the battle field and most died from it. He, however, was not going to allow himself to die now, much less from a wound inflicted by the wretched cur du Barbaronne!

He stood up and walked over to his horse pulling forth a small flask from his saddlebag. He walked back to the place where he had been sitting and bit down hard on the rolled up sleeve of his shirt as he opened the little bottle and poured the strong fermented drink into his wound. He blanched and nearly passed out from the pain of it. It felt like every fire Satan himself could have built! He poured a bit more on, the pain being less the second time around.

He had picked up a substantial stock of the stuff – several casks, while on one of his travels in Ireland several months earlier. They had called it Uisce Beatha…
the water of life
and some other name. What was it? Oh, yes…whiskey.

Bloody hell! In this moment it felt like the water of death. Oh, he had drunk his share of it and gotten fool-headed and foul-mouthed enjoying every moment of it, but right about now he wished he had never purchased the damnable concoction. Then again, he knew that it had properties of purifying wounds as well as making one much drunker than any ale or wine. Perhaps it would cure him. He looked at the bottle and took a long drink and then another. He tore the bottom of his shirt before slipping it
back over his head and wrapped it tightly around his arm.

He gathered his things, watered his horse and mounted up motioning for his men to follow suit. They began their ride again following the trail.

A few minutes later he began to feel better. He was much more relaxed and his pain seemed to be less as well. Yes. He was ready now to finish this.

They picked up their pace as the sun began to peek its golden head above the horizon. They were not far from the Normandy border.

Within the hour they could see men on horses and three wagons moving along the dusty road.  Navarre smiled to himself. His moment had come. He kicked his horse into a full gallop and motioned for his men to do the same.

The
hair on the back of Dominic’s neck stood on end as he heard the sound he had known would inevitably come. He turned and looked behind him and saw the billowing clouds of dust still far off in the distance but growing ever near as Navarre and his men descended upon them in the first light of morning.

So.
They weren’t going to make it to the border after all. And obviously his sire had either not received the book safely in his hands as Margery had promised or more likely, he had deserted him in the same manner he had so many years before and left him to his fate.

No matter. He would survive and he would see to it that Sarah escaped this and survived as well. Marco had been given his instructions. He was to see Sarah out of the side of one of the wagons and onto one of his fastest horses. They would head toward the border and await him there. He would remain here and deal Navarre the fate that was long overdue.

Marco turned his horse around and untied Dominic’s fastest black steed from the side of the wagon. He rode along side the wagon guiding the horse and leapt down from his own parting the canvas in one motion.

“Sarah! We must leave with great haste.”

Her eyes popped open. She was slightly disoriented and her vision was still blurry.

“I’m sorry. Did you just say something?”

“Sarah, we must go now! Navarre and his men are not far behind. We can see them on the horizon and they are riding fast. Nico has given me my orders. We will go now.” He held out his hand to her.

“I told him I am NOT leaving him again, Marco. That is final.” She sat stubbornly where she was.

“Sarah du Barbaronne, if you do not come with me willingly I will have to throw you over my shoulder, just has Nico has done many times before me. Sil vous plais.
Please
. Do not force my hand.”

“I am
not
going. Please listen to me. I can help you here. I can fight. I’m strong if you will just give me the chance!” Her eyes took on a pleading look as she spoke. “And what about Indiri and Fala and Shaia. And the few other women?”

Marco sighed deeply. He understood her feelings completely. But he also knew that Dominic would skin him alive if he failed to get Sarah away from here where there was no chance of Navarre getting to her
.. He had to make her see her foolishness.

“He knows what he is doing and this is one fight in which he needs no distractions. He needs not worry of your safety while he is fighting for his life…and yours. As for the others, Fala and Shaia are highly skilled with knives and they know
exactly
how to distract a man just long enough for him to be taken unawares and lose his life, if you know what I mean. Even if they were taken, they would survive by their wits and the plying of their lovely wares until they could escape. And escape, they would – those two, believe me.

Indiri would not leave if I begged her. She is old, yes, but she is wise and unafraid of death. She is as stubborn as an ass sometimes and I will not heft her poor old body over my shoulder as I would you! And before we left, Gilda came and escorted the others, their sisters and the one baby among us to the village to wait in hiding. They will be safe.”

His eyes took on a serious cast. “Navarre is not after any of them. He is after you. And
Dominic
.”

Sarah knew that he was right but a part of her was screaming to deny him and refuse to go. But her better judgment took over. She did need to get away from here for more reasons than one. She didn’t want to risk him not having all of his wits and agility about him because he was worried what was happening to her. Weak and sniveling as it made her feel, she didn’t think she could stand to watch him die if he lost.

Her thoughts were broken as Marco grabbed her by the arm and ushered her out of the wagon. Dominic rode over with his eyes boring into her own like steel. He didn’t say a word as he dismounted quickly and walked over to her.

She opened her mouth to speak.

He silenced her with his lips as he brought them down on her own and pulled her to him.

“Sarah. Do not say it because I will come to you when this is finished. Now, go. Get away from here and wait for me.” He picked her up and put her on the back of the horse that Marco had brought over. He kissed her hand one last time before lightly slapping the horse’s flank and sending them off.

Marco nodded to his friend before kicking his own horse into a gallop. He knew his instructions. He wished he could be here at the onset of this, but it was more important to get Sarah to safety in the hills above the forest a few miles from here.

Sarah looked back several times with her heart aching – longing to turn around and go back, but there seemed to be nothing left for her to do but go along with his wishes and pray.

They rode hard and fast for a short time, until they reached the edge of the woods where they slowed their horses to a light trot. She looked at the forest looming around her.

The sweet smell of the towering pines overwhelmed her senses. It was pristine and serene. And yet it couldn’t erase the memory of her last little trip out into the wilderness with no fire, no blanket, and no food when she had run from Dominic. Of course, it had ended with him coming to her aid and of all things, marrying her. The memory warmed her heart and she wished the
circumstances were such that she could enjoy the memory instead of fearing it would be all she had to hold on to. She turned to Marco and broke the silence.

“Marco, what if he….”

He didn’t let her finish the sentence. “We have already been through this. Do not speak of it. He will come for you.” His eyes were like stone.

“Dammit! Stop telling me not to say such things! You sound just like him! The fact is you both could get yourselves killed and I will be left out here to get eaten by the wolves. I suppose it won’t matter anyway, because if he dies I won’t want to live anymore.”

Marco looked over at her. “He will not die. There are some things in this world that are stronger than evil. Love is one of them. And he loves you. You came to us under most unusual circumstance as if fate declared it was to be so. I believe it was the will of God himself. And I believe God’s will is much stronger than Navarre’s. You shall see.”

She sighed. “I suppose if those words were coming from Indiri, I would be more apt to believe they were set in stone.”

He smiled. “Yes, I suppose you would. But I
am
her son. And even were I not, any fool could easily see that what you have is no ordinary love.”

Sarah laughed sarcastically out loud. “Is any love ever ordinary to the person experiencing it?”

He shook his head. “Touche! But you are quite right. That is as I feel toward my Gilda. She is quite something to me, you know.”

Sarah smiled back at him knowingly before her eyes took on a distant look again.

Marco slowed his horse before he spoke again. “Sarah, you must believe he will come for you. If he does not, then
I will
. I swear it as his closest friend…his brother not by birth but by heart. I know as well that Dominic will make sure the troupe has orders to send someone for you in the event that we are both killed.”

Sarah just looked at him. “Marco, your people would no
doubt celebrate my death. I know everyone said they would stand by their leader, but I am, after all, the cause of their leader dragging them all over the country with some maniac chasing them down. I am sure there would be no love lost if I just disappeared. And furthermore, how do you know all of you won’t be hauled off to a dungeon somewhere?”

He ignored her last question. “Maniac…what does this word mean?” His brows knit together.

She sighed. “Never mind.”

His puzzled expression was driving her nuts.

“It means an insane person. You know? Someone who is berserk and tries to kill people or harm others.”

He shook his head in understanding.

“Sarah, they love him more than you know. They loved his mama more than you can imagine. They may have been angry at first, but they do not hold on to such things. Our life is too short and we must find what joy there is while we have time. I think that they would come to your aid simply because he loved you. That is how much they love
him
. Believe it.”

She stared at him long and hard. He was right. Every quality in Dominic du Barbaronne was as fair and noble and just as they come. He was a real noble in fact…and yet he lived as a pauper. Money, wealth and the pompous life meant virtually nothing to him. His people and their welfare, knowledge, healing arts, music and artistic pursuit and all the important things were what did. She could definitely see why they loved him as they did.