23. In The Bois Again

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As the carriage jolted over the occasional rock in the road, I kept a firm hold on Erik's dagger, which I'd tucked safely away in the folds of my dress. Once or twice, Jeremy would draw breath to speak and I'd glance warily across at him. But every time, he lost his resolve and returned to looking out of the window, fidgeting with his hands.

As far as killing went, I'd seen better. Was he really planning to murder me? He was tense, biting his lip and staring blindly into the woodland, occasionally sneaking a glance at me. Not really a foreboding presence.

How would he do it? Erik strangled. Nadir had his old katana - not that I'd seen much of that lately. I knew my way around a dagger. But Jeremy? I had no idea. That was why it was so dangerous.

The nerves truly set in when he knocked on the panel. The carriage slowed to a halt. Jeremy opened the door and climbed out. I checked my skirts for the dagger, for reassurance more than anything. When I found I could pull it out at a moment's notice, my heart steadied.

Jeremy offered his hand, forcing a smile. I took it, keeping the other around my skirts. His warm hand helped me down to the ground. I swallowed; one of us wouldn't be walking away from the bois this afternoon, and I refused to be the victim of blind revenge.

A deep breath. I'd done this before. I could do it again.

We walked quite a distance, keeping to the tracks and paths worn down by hundreds of feet. Even with the sun trying to shine, the cold winds went right through me and I pulled my shawl tighter. Above our heads, within the barren tangles of branches, a choir of morning birds chirped to each other. I walked with my arm in Jeremy's, if only so I could feel his movements and counter anything he did. It also meant he didn't have a hand to spare, for in his left hand he carried a picnic basket.

"I'm sure you're wondering why I brought you here," he said as we approached the familiar little bridge in the clearing. I kept my eye on his hands when he let my arm go and knelt on the grass. He opened the basket and spread a green tartan blanket over the foliage, just beside the river bank.

So he was going to drown me? I sat on the far side of the blanket, folding my hands quite meticulously over the dagger hilt.

"The second of January is a rather odd date for a picnic," I said. He blushed, moving to unpack the basket and lying on the blanket little plates of pastries, crackers, cheese, glasses and a bottle of red wine from Toulouse. He set another plate of cream buns before me with a shy smile. Poison then. I shuffled slightly.

"I know they're your favourite," he whispered, moving back to his respective side of the blanket. I forced a smile and glanced at the buns. Jeremy sat still, just watching me. By the edge of the clearing, a little grey squirrel hunted for one of his hidden nuts, awake for a short time from hibernation. I bit back a sigh.

This was the most boring murder ever.

"Papa tried to teach me to fish here," Jeremy chuckled, nodding at the river. "But of course, I ruined that by falling in."

Despite myself, I couldn't help but laugh softly at that. Jeremy turned back to me with a fake frown.

"It's not funny," he said, mocking indignance and folding his arms. "I was just fourteen and soaked to the skin!"

"Sorry," I smiled, following his previous gaze to the water, wishing my own father had taught me to fish instead of Vladimir. "He must have adored you."

"As his only son, I like to think so."

"I have no doubt of it."

Jeremy huffed a little laugh. He'd taken to gazing at a stem of grass, which he was breaking into continuous halves in his lap. "We always made good memories here. I always come here when I miss him. I can't count the number of times I've painted it; my cousin has banned me from sending him any more canvasses because they take up too much of the art gallery."

"Why don't you sell some, then? I'm sure they're very picturesque. Perhaps they'd fetch a tidy profit?"

But he simply shook his head and reached to uncork the wine bottle. "No," he said, filling the glasses and handing me one. "No, they are my memories. I only share them with the people I love the most. I never even bring Guillaume here."

We fell silent for a little while longer, simply listening to the flowing stream and the birds in the trees. A little robin hopped through the grass on the other bank, searching for a worm or two below the soil. But the silences with Jeremy only ever lasted so long.

He cleared his throat. "Nikki?"

I froze, finding the dagger once more. "Yes?"

He opened his mouth again, but the breath escaped him and he looked around. Then, as if he couldn't bear to lose any more courage, he stood, holding out his hands to me. I hesitated, checking his eyes. He was nervous all of a sudden, but not angry. Not vengeful. Tentatively, I reached to him and let him pull me to my feet before him.

I held my breath, hand slipping the dagger around to the back of my dress amongst my bustle and grabbing the hilt amid the fabric. Jeremy breathed a nervous breath and searched his tailcoat pocket for something.

My thumb smoothed over the ruby. Erik had once promised me it would bring good luck to its wielder. The truth was, it had. The man I'd been targeting had fallen dead at my feet with one, well-aimed slash. I could do the same with Jeremy. I knew I could. But would I be able to?

Jeremy cleared his throat, drawing his hand from his pocket. I stiffened all over, my fingers curling around and lifting the hilt in anticipation. Raise it, something told me. Kill him now!

"Nikki," he whispered, his voice cracked and shy. He was already blushing, not daring to meet my eyes. "The memories I've made here with Papa, I made when I was a boy. But I am a man now, and I wish to make new ones, somewhere else, with someone else. It's time for me to leave that happy childhood behind and let Papa and Julianna rest now. I have an entire future ahead of me, but no one to share it with. So I want to make one, final memory here..."

I couldn't move. I simply couldn't. I could only watch as Jeremy drew a small box from his coat and sank to the ground before me, propped up one knee.

"Nikita de La Chance," he said, peering up at me, with all the vulnerability of a child. My mouth hung open as he opened it to reveal a small, if slightly familiar, diamond ring. "Will you marry me?"

The dagger slipped from my numb hand and lodged into the ground behind me.

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