Thread: Au-delà du Temps: Beyond Time (LeatrixSage x SacrlettRose)

She was becoming an utter nuisance! Roarke huffed to himself. He was hardly used to waiting on the fairer sex, rather he was used to them dancing to his tune. However, Adelaide Aedler was not like any woman he had ever met in his damned life! It already felt like she'd been with him a lifetime and it had only been but one day! Like a noose around his neck. A rather pretty noose at that but a damned demanding one and he was certain she was irritating him on purpose. The Marquess had had enough of waiting on his errant guest and began taking the stairs, three steps at a time when a flurry of feminine ruffles could be heard at the top of the stairs and Adelaide glided down with Annette hot on her tail. He stopped and glowered down at her and her filthy mouth that he was finding uncommonly attractive. His narrowed gaze spoke in volumes of how very fortunate she was that he had not reached the top. He let her carry on past him as he gave the servants a few instructions in regarding somethings that must be seen to while he was away and where to forward any correspondence. When Annette was back at his side and somewhat tearful, he shared with woman a motherly hug. Don't ball so Annette, you will be glad I am out of your hair and out from under your feet. He teased the old woman as he smiled upon his staff. I have instructed Monsieur Laurent to provide you all with double pay for the coming month for putting up with me and my brutish ways. Oh! My Lord! It was no trouble at all. Annette sniffled. You are far too kind as always. I am aren't I? He grinned, jestingly making all the servants laugh. It is a great down fall of mine. Now come! I must be away and I will be back sooner than any of you would like. He winked with a smile as he gently pinched Christine the young maid's cheek to whom he'd earlier eluded to about his supposed nuptials. Mademoiselle Christine you will have all preparations ready for my return and big day non? Oui! Oui! Mon Seigneur! The child replied excited. Good! Now I bid you all au revoir. And with that he stepped out the doors of Chateau De Lacey. Au revoir my Lord and safe journey. A chorus followed behind him. May the good Lord bless you and my Lady. Indeed he was sad go. He was not in France under the best circumstances but he knew with him not here there was no certainty of safety for the good people under his employee and that was a weight heavy upon his heart. Nonetheless, he had a job to do which was much bigger when all was considered. Wessex's bright blue eyes did not leave Addie's face as he stalked towards her in the dark. There was little light but that from the lanterns of the carriage itself. When he was upon her, he opened the carriage door for her offering her his hand. When she took it to alight onto the vehicle, his lips once more were pressed to her ear. Nothing maybe fucked quite yet. Addressing her earlier comment. But you might be. His grinned could be felt against her skin but he let her carry onto the carriage. She could not continually vex him to the point of being unbearably hard and not expect him to bite back. Closing the carriage door behind her, his gaze held hers for a long moment before he moved to the front of the carriage where he gave instructions to finely liveried driver and the footman. The journey to Calais saw no reason to be anything but smooth and they would be there by the early hours of the morning. It would be another sleepless night for him but the guise of darkness would aid their retreat across the channel. Roarke moved forward petting his stallion before mounting the gallant steed whom looked appeared a nightmare horse with his coat as dark as the night coming upon them. The Marquess signalled the carriage to move and soon found himself riding besides it. Make yourself comfortable mon cheri. Roarke said through the window. It is a short journey but will take most of the night. Before letting the ornate carriage with the Wessex arms speed on ahead as he road behind it at a little distance. Was he paranoid? Always. Though, as far as the Marquess was concerned there was absolutely no reason that there should be any impediment in their journey but years of training still had him looking for any signs of troubles. Of course, there was always the fact, that he wasn't entirely certain he'd be able to contain himself in a small confined space with that exceedingly attractive sharp tongue harpy. He smirked to himself at the thought of utterly compromising Adelaide in the back of his carriage. She responded far too ardently to his kisses . . . That was the problem. He would not be able to stop himself if he went down that path and that was exactly why he was on the back of Pooka here instead of inside the warmth of that carriage on this crisp night. Even if Mademoiselle Aedler was up for a little tryst with him it was not a sound idea at all seeing as she was the enemy though she denied it ardently. The night had worn on and The Marquess of Wessex was still in deep thought about his petulant little prison. They were half way to Calais when Roarke's chain of thought was disturbed. From the right, not too far in the distance could be heard the angry gallop of a horse. Wessex's grip tightened on his reigns as he urged Pooka forward faster. There was an uneasiness creeping up his spine and his feelings on these matters had never been wrong in the past. He thought of Adelaide in that carriage and urgent Pooka, pushing the stallion to his limits. The palatable feeling of something being very wrong manifested to life when Roarke was just open the carriage and a great brown horse appeared out of the dead of the night to the right. The rider's face was covered by a bandanna but it was clear the man was no thief, far too finely dressed. Roarke knew instantly who the fiend who accosted them was. The enemy rider had not realised Roarke's presence as he pulled a elegant gun out and pointed through the window of the carriage. The Marquess's heart pounded harder in his chest at the sight. However, training took over and he thought of nought but the actions he had to take in that very moment. He wasted no time twisting the reigns around his grip and swinging to the side of Pooka as he thundered forward keeping up with the carriage. As he swung Roarke kicked the gun from the clasp of the unsuspecting gunman. You bastard! The man spat from beneath his bandanna in the finest french as Roarke swung back into his saddle. You're dead! Compliments of Monsieur Murat! I'm hurt. Roarke replied in a fictitious manner or injury from the pronouncement. I believe Monsieur Murat and I were dear friends. You're a thief, traitor and a dirty English bastard. The adversary on horse back yelled as the both men rode dangerously, hither and fro, both trying to unmount the other but both equally matched in skill. I accept all the accusations except bastard. Roarke shouted back congenially, trying to vex the man into losing his attention long enough for Roarke to fell him from his horse. My mother assured me my father is the man she was married to. The man roared unamused pulling out another gun. He shot in Roarke's direction. The Marquee grunted and hissed, his hand going to his side where a warm wetness met his fingertips. Yet his eyes had not left his prey. The backfire from the shot had unsettle the rider and with one arm strong arm, Roarke reached to the side of him pulling the reigns of the horse beside him forcing the horse to move closer to his own Roarke dismounted the rider with one heavy boot to the chest and the sickening sound of the man being trampled beneath the hoofs of two stallions at full gallop was the last sound to be heard in the night as the horses and carriage rolled quickly to a stop.