My Disfigured Duke Husband Helps Me Plot My Revenge
Chapter 178: Realities of Travel

Chapter 178: Realities of Travel

The path was precarious, so much so that Leonor was grateful she wasn’t leading a horse through all of it. While there were mental scars from what happened to her with the horse a few years prior, even the most experienced horse rider would have trouble on such a trail.

Yet the expression on the soldiers and officers around her gave nothing away of the struggle. They all seemed confident in their abilities and duties to ensure the ducal family got from one place to another without issue.

Leonor was grateful for Desmond’s way of governing his men. Even the poisonous reputation of the count wasn’t enough for them to be sour toward Leonor. Because Desmond treated her well, they would do the same. It was never more complicated than that.

The horse Leonor and Desmond rode that day was a beautiful buckskin colored mustang named Solitaire. He was the first major purchase Desmond made when he became duke and one Leonor understood very well considering Desmond’s time spent with horses. It was natural that he would only pick the best.

At the beginning of their ride, Desmond pulled up Leonor’s hood and told her it would be best for her to keep her face towards him so she wouldn’t get wind burnt or terrified at how frightening the path they were on could be. He wanted her to rely on him completely.

Curiosity eventually got the best of her and she continued observing while keeping her face as close to Desmond’s chest as she could.

Protection from wind was one thing, but his warm, comforting scent was another. It was what she thought of Valerio in the past and it was what she thought of Desmond at that moment. Sometimes she realized she was a fool for believing all men must smell the same.

She heard horse hooves slip and small rocks fall to lower heights which caused her to gasp and a chuckle came from deep within Desmond’s chest.

"You’re watching, aren’t you?" he practically whispered. They weren’t moving fast enough for her not to be able to hear him over the hoofbeats on the ground.

With his arms on either side of her and holding the reins, he gently squeezed his arms together, silently punishing Leonor for ignoring his suggestion.

He couldn’t be upset. One reason he liked Leonor from the beginning was because of her unbiased curiosity. It was what led her gaze to him in the first place.

Soon he felt a cold nose against his neck and he smiled. He had left a scarf in the carriage, debating whether he should bring it out while they rode. At that moment, he didn’t regret his decision.

"I can’t help it," she admitted.

After his words, she slumped further and one of her arms went tighter around his waist underneath his cloak. She settled into his neck and squeezed her eyes shut attempting to bridle her curiosity.

Occasionally she would still peek and was pleased to see how high they had made it onto the mountain. While the pass they needed to find wasn’t on the very top, it was at the heart of the mountain range.

One of the final times Leonor could peek at their surroundings, she saw that the sun was already starting to set. It was a bitter reminder that warm weather was ending and they would be stuck inside all winter once more.

Her thoughts began to snowball and her heart raced at the thought of all they could get up to together since neither of them had many responsibilities to attend to in winter. Her face heated up and she wondered if Desmond could feel her heart racing as she leaned against him.

Thoughts were cut short as if they didn’t exist in the first place.

In their traveling party of about twenty men, the ones in the front started to shout.

"Gris!"

The name itself caused Desmond’s blood to run cold.

Any man who was subjected to the front lines in Letum knew right away what ’gris’ meant. Gris meant grey in the ancient language. It was a name used for the strangely human monsters that moved forward and through the soldiers as they slowly escaped the mountain which turned out to be occupied by the dragon.

In Montclair’s ranks were many men who faced battle. The duke wasn’t alone in his feeling of overwhelming dread. However, it wasn’t enough to be inhibiting. Only those who survived Letum had the fight half of fight or flight.

The resounding metal noise of swords being unsheathed shocked Leonor to her core. One of her hands went over her heart and her breathing became erratic. Furthermore, Desmond’s unsheathing of his sword was what surprised her the most.

She started to pull away from him, but with his free hand not wielding a sword at that moment, he pressed her closer to his chest.

A few times he was faced with participating in battle on horseback. Over a hundred years before, knights polished their sword fighting and shield-wielding skills on horseback by learning to control a horse using their knees entirely.

It was a skill every one of Montclair’s soldiers still practiced to that day.

"You can’t," Leonor managed to say despite her husband trying to stifle her at that moment.

"It’s in my left hand," he said. "I refuse to be a sitting duck especially since you’re riding with me."

"The others will take care of it," she argued, though she knew her argument was flimsy.

The thrill of battle was enough for Desmond to forget about any aches and pains his thoroughly worn-out body had and he managed to cry out, "Protect the duchess at all costs!"

His throat would be ragged later and it would be something he would have to face in the future.

Leonor let out a noise of disagreement but she was powerless to fight anything off. Her offensive magic wasn’t prepared for that sort of combat.

"Don’t look, Leonor," he warned her. "You mustn’t see–"

He was cut off as the sound of slashing blades made the duke kick himself into action. He raised his sword and he prodded his horse to go faster. They were nearly at the summit and a safer path would be presented to them shortly.

It wasn’t loud but Leonor heard monsters and blades nonetheless. The groans as the monsters attacked people would haunt her forever as the horses ran over them like they were rocks themselves.

Once Desmond had to slash his blade so one of the gris wouldn’t get too close even though it was already on its way to defeat. It caused Leonor to gasp into Desmond’s chest. That time she was truly determined not to look because the noise was enough.

If she didn’t have to hold onto Desmond to remain on the horse, she would have covered her ears.

"I’m taking her to safety!" he called again.

That was all he could do. As disappointed as he was in his weakness and inability to participate in full-on battle, he could ensure she was protected by escaping.