Protection

Chapter One

He drove her mad.

 He stood behind her, his face void of any emotion whatsoever. Alayna closed her eyes as the priest led them all in a prayer, one he said in Latin. She knew she should have listened, but she could think only of those dark hours behind that stack of crates on the terror-filled voyage to Dover. How strange England had seemed to her, especially since she had just surfaced from a war torn country.

   "Amen," the heavy, cold voice behind her repeated. She had not said it herself, but stood there silently and thought endlessly for a very long time. She stared at the fresh, rich mound of soil that buried her very dearest friend. The only father she had known for five years.

   "The carriage is waiting, Madam'selle."

 She glanced at him dismissively over her shoulder, then locked her eyes once again on the newly dug grave. Where would she be had it not been for the kindness of James Pembroke? Would she have ended in the same shameful predicament other girls had? Her cheeks reddened at the thought, and once again, she thanked the Lord that James had gotten to her first.

     In Dover, plenty of wealthy men had passed by her, eyeing her, some winked, but none stopped to help. She smiled bitterly, playing with the thought of their impressions. Her mama would have dropped in a cold, dead faint.  But only one stopped, compassionate determination written openly on his face. He offered her a warm place to sleep, good food to eat, pretty clothes, and a friend when she needed one. It did not take long for her to see the gentle old man's intentions were entirly noble. He had never expected anything in return.

      "Madam'selle, allow me to escort you?" He offered his arm to her courteously. But his disposition was cool. She read it in his dark eyes; he was only being kind to her because it was an obligation. There was no compassion in the gesture. He was acting on expectation. And a kindness was only a kindness if it was done out of the goodness of one's heart.

   It is proper to take a man's arm when offered, Alayna. To refuse is considered impertinent and rude. She heard her mama's voice in her mind, and took his arm reluctantly. His strides were longer than hers, much longer, because he was much taller. She huffed to herself. The brute, he was! He thought only of himself.

   And yet, despite her dislike, he reminded her of someone very dear to her that had been stolen away.

   Alexander gritted his teeth at the way she looked at him.

 As if he was a bloody nuisance! She was the bother, if anyone asked him. Taking care of her would be exactly like pampering a spoiled little child. And she was French at that. Every French woman he had ever encountered had been snooty and proud. She was exactly like them.

    She spoke little, as if he was not worth her time. And she mourned as if she had more reason to weep than he did. All day long, she had kept to her chambers, where he supposed she had cried herself to sleep.

    On the drive home from the funeral, she had stared at the window, and refused to speak. He had explained to her that his home in Liverpool was a summer home, and that he lived in London the remainder of the year. He told her loosely that if she was going to stay with him, she would have to go to London. He hoped she would go to London. Then, he could pawn her off on one of his single, lonely, "lucky'' friends.

    As if any of them would be up for the challenge. Most of them were content with just their sweet little freckled Englanders.

   Alex occupied his father's study, and was quite childishly going through the desk drawers. He had always been a snoop. It had gotten him into trouble more than once as a boy. But now there was no one there to tan his behind, so he decided he would go on an expedition. It all belonged to him anyway.