Christian Seaton: Duke of Danger (Dangerous Dukes 6)

A touch of humour tilted the Comte’s lips. ‘Did you ever drive a horse and cart on that farm you once lived on, Lisette?’

She gave him a startled look. ‘You are not suggesting that I should drive your carriage...?’

He gave a pointed look about the empty street. ‘I do not see anyone else I can ask, do you?’

‘But— Christian!’ Lisette stepped forward to put her arm about the leanness of his waist and the support of her shoulder beneath his arm as he appeared to sway precariously.

‘And I suggest that you do it soon, Lisette,’ he muttered faintly. ‘Whilst I am still conscious to direct you.’

She had never heard of anything so ridiculous as to expect her to drive the Comte’s carriage; it was nothing like the old cart they’d had on the farm, nor were the four horses pulling this elegant carriage in the least like the elderly and plodding mare owned by the Duprées. Indeed, these high-stepping animals might have been a different breed altogether from the docile Marguerite.

Lisette eyed the four black horses doubtfully as they still snorted and stamped their displeasure. ‘You are asking too much, Christian.’ She gave a shake of her head.

He nodded. ‘I would not ask at all if it were not important.’

Lisette looked up at him searchingly. ‘I do not understand,’ she finally murmured slowly.

‘And I do not have the time, or indeed the strength, to explain the situation to you right now.’ He sighed weakly.

Lisette glanced down to where his thigh was still bleeding freely, front and back. ‘Something needs to be tied about your thigh in order to slow the bleeding...’

‘Lisette...?’ Christian’s eyes widened as she did not hesitate to lift her gown before efficiently ripping a strip from the bottom of her petticoat, and then proceeded to crouch down in front of him to wrap and tie that strip tightly about the top of his thigh.

It was perhaps as well that there was no one on the street to observe them because Lisette, crouched in that position, looked very—risqué, if one did not realise she was merely applying a tourniquet to his thigh.

‘There.’ She gave a nod of satisfaction as she straightened, seemingly completely unaware of the picture of debauchery she had just presented to the world. ‘I shall need your instruction to drive the carriage, Christian. Do you feel strong enough to be helped up into the driving area?’

He determinedly dragged his thoughts back from the lewdly suggestive delights that having Lisette kneeling in front of him had evoked.

It looked a very long way up to where his groom drove the carriage, when he was feeling less than agile, the loss of blood having also made him feel slightly light-headed.

He set his jaw grimly. ‘I shall manage with your help, yes.’ He was determined to do so, knew that he and Lisette must now get themselves away from here as soon as was possible, that they had delayed long enough.

He had no doubt that the men who had accosted and then shot him and Pierre were the cut-throats Lisette had warned him Helene Rousseau had intended sending to dispose of him. That at any moment they might return and finish the job.

There was no sign of life or candlelight inside the Fleur

de Lis itself, but that did not mean that Helene Rousseau was not observing the two of them right now. And no doubt filled with fresh resolve now that she had seen he was not only still alive but also mobile enough to struggle up onto the carriage with Lisette’s help.

That resolve would no doubt deepen, and Helene Rousseau herself be filled with renewed rage, when she saw her niece drive away with him in his carriage.

‘Perhaps you should not accompany me, after all.’ Christian frowned as Lisette climbed up beside him. ‘Your aunt will no doubt make her disapproval known—’

‘I have already told Helene that I shall be leaving the Fleur de Lis in the morning.’ She shrugged.

‘The two of you have argued?’

‘That is one way of describing it.’ Lisette’s hand moved up to touch her mouth.

Christian’s eyes darkened as he saw her bottom lip was slightly swollen. ‘She struck you?’

‘Yes.’

‘Because of me?’

‘The reason is unimportant.’ Her expression was grim as she picked up the reins, ready for departing. ‘And she is not my aunt.’

‘Not your aunt...?’ Christian echoed softly, the effort of climbing up into the carriage having taken the last of his strength.