Her Last Line of Defense by Marie Donovan

riding competitions when I was a kid.” She paused to drink from her canteen.
    He still didn’t reply, so she continued doggedly. “My best friend is Janey, whom you met. She’s very busy with her army career, so I don’t see her often. I enjoy yoga, French cooking and tutoring kids in an after-school reading program.” She wound down, suddenly tired of trying to get a response from him.
    They walked in silence for a few minutes.
    “My full name is Luc Edouard Boudreaux. My middle name is after my father.”
    Claire stared at his back in amazement. It was the most he’d said about himself, ever. But he continued, “I have six older sisters.”
    Her eyes bugged out, but she didn’t dare say anything to interrupt the flow.
    “I have about thirty cousins last I counted, and I majored in English and drama at Tulane. My favorite color is army green, and I had a pet alligator when I was a kid. My best friend is Olie, who’s also very busy with his army career, but I see a lot of him.”
    Claire smiled at his wry sense of humor.
    “What else did I miss?”
    “Hobbies.”
    “Running and weightlifting.” He fell silent.
    “Six sisters?”
    “Yeah, I blame them for getting me into the drama thing. They were always dressing me up as the male lead in their plays.”
    “So that’s how you know about Shakespeare.”
    “I was in a couple productions.”
    She quoted a few lines from Romeo and Juliet in a girlish English accent.
    He slid effortlessly into a flawless accent and quoted the next lines right back to her.
    “Very good.” She applauded and he turned around to give her a sweeping bow, his machete dipping like an old-fashioned rapier.
    “Better now?”
    “What?”
    He grinned at her. “Now that you know something about me.”
    Busted. “Yes, I do feel better. You may not believe this, but I don’t normally jump into bed with strangers.”
    “We haven’t made it to a bed, yet, béb .”
    That must be short for baby in Cajun, kind of like being called “babe.” Her face heated. “That’s not what I meant.”
    “I promise not to think less of you, Claire. I’m honored you would break your own rules to be with me.”
    He had broken his rules, as well, but Claire worried he’d get all noble and self-sacrificing and refuse to come near her again if she mentioned it. She gestured at the wilderness around them. “Out here, rules were meant to be broken, right?”
    “You’re only allowed to break the ones that don’t get you hurt.”
    She wanted to ask if he meant emotionally hurt, as well, but figured that topic was best left for another time, or perhaps left alone altogether. “So, six sisters—I can’t even imagine! What are their names?”
    He set off along the trail again. “Let’s see—Evangeline is the oldest, then Jolie, Nicolette, Gabrielle, Acadia and finally Adeline right before me.”
    He said his sister’s name with a French accent, but she recognized it. “That’s my middle name!”
    “So, you see why I wouldn’t make fun of your name. Don’t want two angry women comin’ after me.”
    “Oh, I think you can handle yourself.”
    “Claire, you never met Adeline.”

    C LAIRE WAS STILL SMILING as she helped Luc pitch a tent barely enough for the two of them. That was okay. Like he’d said earlier, who was planning to sleep? She walked to where they’d set their packs. Her feet were sore and her socks soaked.
    She pulled out a fresh pair and sat on yet another log to pull off her boots. “Oh, my gosh.” Her sock was splotched in blood.
    Luc whipped around from where he was checking their coordinates on his map. “What the hell?” He was at her side before she could blink. “Did you step on something, you?”
    She peeled off her sock gingerly. The reddened areas she had so carefully cushioned in the morning were raw and bleeding blisters.
    “Ah, boo, your poor feet.” He tsked like an old lady as he knelt and examined her other foot, which was just as bad. He returned