Billionaire's Accidental Wife

Chapter 9

Chapter 9 The Montblanc Mountain Range Goldsmith’s Inn, Twenty Miles from Sebastian’s residence

The early autumn chill bit at the man’s skin, which was still exposed to the elements. It wasn’t the bone-

chilling cold of winter. This had a distinct vibe, softer in some ways.

Dry leaves and campfires filled the air. The source, the golden-haired man understood, was the

fireplace of Goldsmith’s Inn. He’d been there before on his way through this region of the northern

mountains, and he knew the owner and cook, Mrs. Gray, would be making some kind of stew right NôvelDrama.Org owns © this.

about now.

He got a scent of onions, garlic, and chicken stew just on cue. The odour entered his nostrils and

travelled directly to his gut, generating a loud rumble.

He hadn’t eaten anything all day, save for a biscuit for breakfast and a piece of dry pork for

lunch. His strategy had always been to travel light and quickly, then have a large dinner.

However, he couldn’t see the Inn’s lights, but he knew it was around the corner.

He yanked on his jacket’s long collar to keep the last few minutes of chill at bay. A gentle breeze

rustled through the trees, flinging leaves from their limbs. The colourful flurries danced through the air

as they fell around the man, driving an old jeep. While he would have liked to enjoy the display

illuminated by the light of a half-moon, he knew the sooner he arrived at Goldsmith’s, the better.

The Montblanc northern trail was a dangerous patch of road. It has one of the most impressive and

beautiful ranges in the world, and it’s a relatively accessible trail for anyone in good shape, but it’s

among the hardest, patrolled by bandits and the occasional native. The bandits were the worst of the

two-though there were stretches that ran through some of the more aggressive tribes’ land. The

mountain stands between the regions of Aosta Valley, Italy, and Savoie and Haute-Savoie, France. It

gives its name to the Mont Blanc massif, bordering Switzerland and forming part of a larger range

referred to as the Graian Alps. The location of the summit of Mont Blanc was on the watershed line

between the valleys of Ferret and Veny in Italy and the valleys of Montjoie, and Arve in France, on the

border between the two countries.

Something other than the wind rustled in the forest to his right. The golden-haired man pulled one of his

pistols and swung it around, aiming it into the pitch-dark thicket of oak, maple, and poplar trees. The

branches above loomed like skeleton fingers against the pale glow in the sky and the twinkling stars.

The noise to his right grew louder. The camper’s horse snorted and shifted its feet while he watched

another man in the saddle keep his focus a dozen feet below the ravine with a torch in its hand. He

wasn’t new to this sort of thing and didn’t spook easily. In fact, the sense of fear sent adrenaline

coursing through his veins, and for the first time in three years, he felt alive as he halted the jeep and

waited.

Levi’s breath pulsed out of his nose and mouth in short bursts of misty clouds. His eyes remained

focused on the dark as the sound grew closer. Someone was coming, and they were

being clumsy about it. A drunk from Goldsmith’s, perhaps, lost in the woods? The sound swelled, feet

clomping through leaves and sticks, fur brushing against the bark of tree trunks. The man’s trigger

finger tensioned, and he cocked back the hammer. If he missed, he had three more, plus a rifle and a

small gun. Suddenly, the intruder’s eyes flashed white amid a long, pointy face covered in light brown

fur. “Just a deer,” Levi grumbled. He sighed, while the man on the horse kept its steady pace, almost

disappointed, as the animal emerged from the forest. Its antlers branched out in several directions,

showing the buck’s age. Levi watched the man disappear in the next clearing as he continued his drive

to the dirt road.

Levi bit his lip, took another look around to survey the area, and stuffed the pistol back into the folds of

his coat. Five years. Five long years since he’d come back to a hero’s welcome. There’d been parades,

fanfare, and every luxury he could have ever imagined. Luxury, however, wasn’t something Marcos

Levi desired.

The mission to map a large section of the Montblanc Mountain range and-hopefully discover a

northwest passage to the Champex-Lac had been an immense success. Though they never found the

legendary river system that could connect the eastern part of the continent to the west, Captain Levi

and his friend Sebastian had explored further than anyone up to that point and were lauded as

celebrities.

Those days seem like ancient history now.

The adventures they encountered along the way were something right out of legend. They’d met

natives of almost every kind. His friend Sebastian had been instrumental in the success of the mission.

He’d made it possible to safely communicate with the various tribes they had met along the way and

helped them navigate difficult terrain that was unfamiliar to Levi and the rest of his comrades.

He needed a drink.

The matters pressing on him had taken his anxiety to new heights. When he was out in the wilderness

with his own men, he didn’t have to worry about stupid financial matters or politics. His new life forced

those things on him, squeezing him like a vise. Politics. He hated the thought of it. He was one of the

larger landowners of the mountain territory and had been made a mountain ranger, a position he

loathed. His grandfather’s journal had also been on his back, which he’d kept during the mission. Five

years later, Levi still hadn’t delivered his entire report to his grandfather and for good reason; his

grandfather was no longer in office. Levi did his best to skate around the subject, coming up with

excuses as to why his full report had yet to be given to the old man, but time was up. He couldn’t run

from the truth any longer. The jeep came along the dirt road. The monotonous sound was almost

peaceful, and Levi found himself dozing off numerous times, only to be awakened as he nearly lost his

balance and fell off his steering wheel. He shook his head side to side to stay awake, knowing the

safety and warmth of Goldsmith’s Inn were just around the bend.

Instinctively, he reached down and touched the satchel at his side. His journals were in there, detailing

every aspect of the mission of discovery’s journey, including one particular piece he

knew would be a shock to his grandfather. The retired army general.

Levi hadn’t told anyone about what he found that fateful night. He trusted his team implicitly, especially

his friend Sebastian. There were one or two they’d picked up along the way that he didn’t trust, but they

weren’t the reason he’d kept his discovery a secret. What he found would have profound implications

not only for history but for the young nation as people began to migrate west. Indeed, the security of

the nation could be at risk

Construction on the permanent camp began after they erected a base camp at the clearing with

temporary constructions such as tents. While assisting in every way he could, Levi slipped away in the

early hours of the night to work on his own project, which he couldn’t tell anybody else about, at least

not yet. He’d have to talk to the general first before telling anyone else about what he witnessed. He

worked at both ends of the fire, surveying the surrounding area during the day, erecting living quarters

for the winter, and then hiding his secret after the sun went set.

Those were long evenings. He’d been sleep deprived on more than one occasion, but he’d had no

choice. Sebastian had voiced anxiety about his health. At first, he was aware that he must have

appeared gruff, and there were times when he found himself conversing with no one but himself.

His awareness was concentrated on the work at hand, on covering up what he’d witnessed. It had

taken nearly three weeks, but he was happy that he had done his best. Once the general was informed

of the issue, a more appropriate solution could be developed and implemented.

Levi groaned when he noticed a pale light streaming through the cracks in the windows of the inn

ahead. Outside, a bonfire raged, spewing a thick pillar of smoke into the air and a shower of bright

orange sparks. The chimney at the back of the home attempted to compete with the bonfire’s output,

but only permitted a tiny trickle of smoke to escape from its top.

The idea was to spend the night at Goldsmith’s, then rise early and continue on the trail west, to a

nearby valley where he would meet with his grandfather and finally reveal everything, including the

secret he’d uncovered near the mouth of the Montblanc. It sent shivers down his spine just thinking

about it. On top of all that, the old man was no longer in command of the corps. While Levi continued to

refer to the man with that title, his replacement was now in charge and, theoretically, the person who

should have received the diaries. Levi knew the man, but not well, and he wanted to make certain that

the documents were given to someone he could rely on. To his friend Sebastian who had a small

underground haven, a few miles from the Inn.

Next Chapter