The Rebel Bride (24 page)

Now frightened, since she wasn’t a fool, she began to back away from him warily. She should have kicked him in the groin, the more extreme measure Harry had taught her to use when a man offended.

“I’ll show you, you bloody bitch!” The man rushed at her, swinging the stick in a wide arc.

In that instant the mare, now freed, reared on her hind legs and thrust her hooves at the peasant’s back, hard. He went sprawling, yelling as he went down, and landed on his face mere inches from Kate’s feet.

Kate grabbed the mare’s mane and swung onto her back. The mare snorted in surprise and reared again, her front hooves pawing the air. Kate hung on tightly to her mane, disregarding a huge rip in her skirt. She saw only that miserable man, who was rising slowly and painfully from the ground, his eyes as mean now as Sir Oliver’s at the most vicious of times. She threw herself forward on the mare’s neck and grasped the loose reins. She felt pain shoot through her leg as the peasant’s stick struck hard on her thigh. She bit back a cry, dug her heels into the mare’s sides, and hung on with all her strength as the frightened horse shot forward in an erratic gallop. She didn’t look back, just hugged herself against the mare’s neck. She realized vaguely that there was only the single mountain road and that they were heading in the direction of the village.

She heard the peasant yelling after her and looked back in sudden panic, afraid that he had another horse. He was running after her, his fists raised, screaming. She breathed only a momentary sigh of relief, for she hadn’t the foggiest notion what she was going to do. She’d stolen a horse—albeit for the purest of motives—and was
fleeing toward a foreign village, where, for all she knew, the people were as vicious and uncaring as that horrible peasant.

She wanted to yell with relief when she saw in the distance two horses coming up the road at a leisurely pace. It took her but a moment to recognize Julien, with James Crayton following closely behind him. She urged the mare forward and waved wildly with one hand. As she neared, she pulled back on the reins. To her despair, the still-frightened mare gave a loud snort and plunged her head down, quickening her pace.

“Good God, Crayton, whoever the devil can that be? What foolhardiness on such a winding road. The idiot will come to grief, you can wager on it.” Julien reined in his horse. The words died in his throat as he recognized his wife’s auburn hair whipping about her surely too white face and saw her torn clothing. He felt colder than ice. He felt fury boiling his innards. Numb rage, that’s what it was. He dug in his heels, and soon they drew so close that he could see the flaring of the horse’s nostrils. She streaked past him, yelling, “I can’t stop her, Julien! Please help me!”

He wheeled his horse about, galloping after her. After what seemed an eternity to both of them, he drew up beside her and grabbed the mare’s reins. For a long moment he struggled with the terrified mare to bring her, finally, to a walk. He leaped from his horse and grasped the reins firmly and with infinite care calmed the trembling animal.

“Thank God! For a moment I didn’t think you’d catch us. The poor mare, she was so frightened. Oh, forget the mare, I’ve never been more frightened in my life. Thank you, my lord.” She slipped off the mare’s back, found that her legs had become curiously boneless, and promptly sat down hard at the side of the road.

“My lord, whatever has happened?” Crayton dismounted and rushed toward them.

“I don’t yet know, James.” He continued to quiet the trembling horse.

“But all the blood, my lord—”

“Yes, yes, I see. Hopefully, her ladyship isn’t harmed, but rather this wretched animal. Here, James, take her reins. Keep talking to her softly, keep calming her. Yes, that’s it. Keep her soothed and quiet.”

Julien dropped to his haunches in front of his wife, gripped her shoulders, and shook her slightly. “What the damned hell happened? Are you all right? In the good Lord’s name, what have you done?”

She stared up at him, so relieved to see him that all she could to was stare at him and smile and clutch at his sleeve and pray that he would understand.

“Hello, Julien,” she said. “I really didn’t intend this, you know.”

“Before I strangle you and then shoot that poor miserable horse, tell me what happened.”

J
ulien pulled her to her feet. “All right, what did you do? Damnation, I have this awful feeling I really don’t want to know.”

“Probably not,” she said, as she brought up her hands to clutch at his shoulders. Though she knew now she was quite safe, the enormity of what she’d just done now left her quite speechless.

“Come on, spill it out. Don’t try to fob me off with something benign. You’ve never done anything benign in your bloody life. Now, what happened?” His voice was sharper than he intended, for his fear for her was great still.

Oddly, his tone steadied her, and she drew back and gave him a rather feeble smile. “I fear I’m going to have to face a magistrate, Julien, though I meant it all for the best. You see, I’ve stolen the horse.”

He just stared down at her, realizing he wasn’t really surprised. He held her while she gathered together her disordered thoughts and launched into her story. It required several questions for Julien to grasp the facts.

“You do understand, don’t you, Julien? I couldn’t let that horrid man continue to beat the mare. And he wouldn’t be reasonable about the matter, and I did try to tell him to stop, at first quite nicely, well nearly, but I was so angry at what he was doing. I had to be nice because I had to do it in French.”

“This peasant, the bastard, tried to harm you?”

“Well, yes, but, you see, I gave him great provocation by hitting him in the face. Surely that would make anyone rather angry. I should have kicked him in the groin
the way Harry showed me to do, but I forgot. The mare struck him in the back, and that saved me.”

“Where is this man?” He realized that for the first time in his life he was most willingly prepared to commit murder. Her blathering moved him not one whit. Good Lord, he could just see her trying to kick the man in the crotch.

“The last time I saw him, he was standing in the road waving his fists at me. Back up there.” She turned and pointed with a grimy finger.

Julien turned abruptly to Crayton. “Take our heroine mare here, James, and let her ladyship mount your horse. Come, Kate, we are going to settle this matter right now. Kick him in the groin? Good God.”

She started to argue, but he ignored her, took her firmly by the arm, and tossed her into the saddle. He ground his teeth at the sight of her bloodied, torn gown.

Kate found herself frightened, not now for herself but rather for Julien. That was surely odd, but nonetheless it was there. “Please, I don’t want you to particularly murder the man, even though he was vicious and a bully.”

He was white with rage. He wasn’t listening to her. She held her tongue. She’d started it all, and now it appeared that he was going to finish it.

“Can you manage the horse?”

“Of course I can. I didn’t lose my skill, just my temper.”

“Very well. Cease your advice and pay heed to not falling off. Kick him in the groin? I don’t believe it.”

Kate had not much choice in the matter, for Julien vaulted into the saddle and urged his horse into a gallop.

Julien was furious at the man who would dare try to harm her, and he wanted to box her ears for being so stupid as to walk out alone. That she’d been brave and saved the mare he stored away for future consideration. Fortunately, it was not long before his rational self reappeared and he was forced to admit that Kate had, after all, quite unlawfully interfered and stolen the man’s horse. His blood ran cold at the thought of what would
have happened if she hadn’t had the quickness of wit to escape on the mare. Damnation. How could he wring the man’s neck, when, if one were logical, the fellow had had just provocation?

She was praying devoutly that the peasant would be gone. But when they rounded a bend in the road, she saw to her despair that he hadn’t budged and now stood in the roadway, legs apart, holding the knobby stick tightly in one hand.

Julien drew up some distance from the peasant and turned to her. “You will stay here—”

“No, I want—”

“Bloody hell, woman, you will do as I tell you. You move a muscle, exercise your tongue just once, and it will be the worse for you. Do you understand me?”

She nodded, pale and now quite frightened for him. She called after him, “Please be careful. I don’t want us both hauled to the magistrate.”

Julien ignored her, saying to Crayton, “Stay with her ladyship, James, and don’t bloody let her leave this spot. Jesus, at least she forgot to kick him in the crotch.”

She sat huddled in the saddle, wishing that a Swiss regiment would somehow magically appear. She watched tensely as Julien strode toward the peasant. She hunched lower in the saddle and bit her lip as the man brandished the stick in Julien’s face and yelled wildly in her direction. At the next moment, Kate blinked in astonishment, for the man lay sprawled in the dirt and Julien stood over him, calmly rubbing his knuckles. When the man finally struggled to his feet, he appeared to have shrunken visibly in size, or so it seemed to her. She wasn’t really surprised that her husband could see to himself and to her. It rather pleased her, but then again, she had been the one who initially saved the mare. Julien had come in on the last act, so to speak. This was only an epilogue.

There followed a rapid conversation in French, dominated by Julien. Money changed hands, and to Kate’s further surprise, the man bowed to Julien, dusted off his clothing, and walked quickly into the forest.

Kate clicked her horse forward and drew up beside her husband.

“Well, my dear, it seems that you now own a horse.” He allowed his features to soften now at the sight of her. She was a mess, very pale, with her hair hanging in tangles about her face.

She gave him a huge smile, and that was lovely, and completely her, full of bravado. “You hit him smartly. I was impressed. Perhaps you could show me just how you did that.”

“Not likely. When you meet Percy, he will tell you in the most condescending manner possible that I spend too much of my time sparring with Gentleman Jackson. I fear they wouldn’t approve your membership.”

“He’s the boxer.”

“Yes, he is. Now let’s go home. Both you and your horse are in need of attention.”

For the first time, Kate became aware of her disheveled condition. “I guess I am rather a mess.”

“But no worse off than your horse.”

“She will be all right, won’t she, Julien?” she said, as she looked at the pitiful specimen she had rescued.

“She will forget this experience more quickly than you will, I wager.”

Julien’s lightness of heart lasted only until they reached the villa. His anger, born undeniably of his fear for her, fanned again as he recalled her utter stupidity. When he lifted her off his horse’s back, he looked down at her and didn’t bother to cloak his anger at all. “A fine day’s work, madam. If you think that I will condone your altogether asinine behavior, you’re sadly mistaken. That you would walk out in a strange country, alone, is in itself so stupid I can scarce credit it, even from a female.”

She knew she was in the wrong, but she’d rather thought that he’d gotten over his rage at her. What had set him off again? “I think, my lord, that you’re expending a great deal too much ire on the incident.” She gave him a fat smile.

It had no discernible effect. “Incident? You’re calling this an
incident
? Dammit, have you thought what would have happened if your horse hadn’t so obligingly helped you? And what if I hadn’t stopped your horse?”

“But you did, Julien,” Kate said reasonably. “And if you hadn’t, certainly she would have gotten tired, sooner or later and stopped all by herself.”

“You little idiot, that isn’t the point, as you well know. I will strangle you myself if ever you again pull such a ridiculous stunt. Do you understand me?”

“It’s impossible not to understand, you are ranting so loudly.”

“Oh, the devil. Talking sensibly to you is like trying to convince a fence post to stand tall without pounding it into the ground. Go to your room and try to make yourself presentable. I will see you at dinner, in an hour.”

She walked without another word into the villa, trying in vain to hold together the gaping tear in her skirt.

“James, see to the mare. She just looks to need cleaning up, three buckets of oats, and two days of rest.” When he walked through the front door, he heard Mrs. Crayton give a scream and thought, not without some pleasure, that Kate would receive a good scold from yet another quarter.

Kate begged, cajoled, and threatened Mrs. Crayton not to inform his lordship when the woman discovered the swollen, discolored bruise on her thigh. She finally secured her reluctant agreement after assuring her mendaciously that it bothered her not at all.

For the first time, she entered the dining room not even one minute late. She was even a minute or two early. She was beginning to ache all over, as if the peasant had flailed her and not the mare with his stick.

Julien had planned to lecture her at length during dinner, but at the sight of her exhausted face, such intentions vanished. Without thinking, he took her gently in his arms, and to his surprise, she eased her arms behind his back and pressed herself against him. After a few
moments he murmured softly, his chin resting against her hair, “Please forgive me for taking strips off your hide. It’s just that if something had happened to you, well, I wouldn’t have been a happy man.”

She drew back in the circle of his arms and tried for a smile. “You were a worse bully than that horrible man, Julien. Do you think we could just say that all’s well that ends well?”

He was obliged to laugh. “What, Kate, more Shakespeare? Just as long as you don’t try to tell me it’s much ado about nothing at all.”

“No, I shan’t, and Julien, I will tell you again, I’m not a shrew and your veiled references are quite revolting to me.”

“Undoubtedly you’re right,” he said, not wanting to give her reason to leave the circle of his arms. “You now have one task left, my dear, and that’s to name your mare.”

She didn’t move away from him, thank the powers, just grew silent and thoughtful. “You know,” she said at last, smiling up at him, “it’s too bad she’s a mare, for Gabriel would be my choice. You see, I was quite convinced that I had reached my judgment day.”

His arms tightened about her, though his voice was light enough. “Then she shall be Gabriella. What do you think?”

She looked up at him fixedly for a moment, the expression on her face unreadable, and lightly slipped from his arms.

There was a companionable silence between them as Mrs. Crayton served their dinner, clucking worriedly each time she gazed at Kate. When she left the room, Kate looked up from her plate. “The way she is acting, I feel as though I should cock up my toes and pass over to the hereafter. Ah, do tell me, my lord, whatever were you doing in the village today? I thought that perhaps you were not pleased here and wished to make arrangements to return to England.”

“Why ever should I not be pleased?”

She fidgeted for a good thirty seconds, then managed to pull herself together, saying, “Oh, I can really think of no reason. How stupid of me to say such a thing. Now, do tell me, Julien, what was your errand?”

“I was on a quest actually, a matter of some importance, and I hope, indeed, I am quite certain that the result will meet with your approval.”

“
My
approval? Come, stop teasing me. What have you done?” Her lips were parted slightly, and her eyes shone with excitement.

Rather than answer her immediately, Julien swiveled around in his chair, looked at the clock on the mantel, and appeared to give some weighty problem due reflection. He turned back to her, a smile on his face. “Perhaps we should wait until tomorrow. You have had a rather trying day.”

“How horrid you are. I’m fine as a new penny, I promise. Now, what have you done, do tell me.”

“Very well. Go to your room. You’ll find a surprise. I will expect you in the library in fifteen minutes.”

She had no idea what to expect, but when she found a pair of black-silk breeches, a frilled white shirt, and a pair of elegant black boots set neatly on her bed, she was baffled. In but a trice she was gazing at her trim figure in the long mirror. She quickly drew on the boots, pulled her hair back, and secured it with a black ribbon.

She skipped out of her room and down the stairs, unable to contain her excitement. She pushed open the library door to see Julien standing in the middle of the room, dressed as she was, in breeches and shirt. In his hand he held two foils.

She gasped with surprise. “Julien, you don’t mean—you got us foils? One is truly for me?”

His eyes lit up at her evident pleasure, but she didn’t notice, her gaze being fastened on the foils he held.

“As I recall, you said you wanted to learn how to fence, it not being one of Harry’s sports. So I will teach you.” He walked to her and placed a foil in her hand.

“Oh, goodness, yes, oh, yes. You’re too good! Oh, my
goodness.” She clasped the foil in sheer delight and bent it back and forth, testing its flexibility.

She looked up after a few moments of this pastime and said with wonder in her voice, “But I lost our wager at piquet, don’t you remember?”