The Lord's Forced Bride. Anne Herries
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two weeks ago to order them from a dressmaker she patronised when in London, and Catherine would be fitted when she arrived. It was all so very exciting that she had begun to wish the journey over.
It was midday when they stopped to take some refreshment at an inn her father had recommended. Messengers had gone ahead and the landlord came out, bowing and smiling as he welcomed Lord Melford’s son and daughter into his house. Hot soup and fresh bread were provided, which were washed down with ale. The drink was very strong and Catherine took only a few sips, though she enjoyed the chicken broth.
They stopped only long enough to rest the horses, soon setting out again on the second stage of their journey. They would sleep at the house of one of Lord Melford’s friends that night and go on the next day. Catherine was used to riding distances of some leagues, for she had been to Shrewsbury a few times with her mother, but she had begun to think that she would be glad to reach their final stopping place for the day.
It was as they reached a narrow road that was bordered on two sides by dense trees that some men rushed out from the trees and tried to grab Harry’s horse. Taken by surprise, he was slow in drawing his weapon and the men dragged him from his mount. Catherine screamed and the armed servants rushed to assist Harry, but one of the ruffians held a dagger to his throat.
‘Come any nearer and he dies!’
‘Let him go!’ Catherine cried, jumping from her horse and rushing towards them. ‘You can gain nothing from harming him!’ Fear for her twin made her rush at the nearest man, throwing herself at him, kicking and punching him with her fists. ‘Let my brother go, I tell you!’
Some of the men-at-arms had dismounted and were hesitating, half-afraid to attack even though Catherine was still fighting valiantly. However, the sound of a bloodcurdling yell and the crack of a musket from behind the rogues made the one holding Harry jump as if startled, and in that instant Harry broke free and drew his sword. The men-at-arms set upon the rogues as soon as they saw that Harry no longer had a knife to his throat and a bloody battle ensued; in seconds two of the rogues lay dying on the ground and three more fled into the trees, where they were set upon by a roaring fury on his horse. He cut down two of them, and the third was pursued by the men-at-arms.
Catherine was shaking, trembling with fright. It had all happened so quickly and she had acted impulsively without a thought for her own safety. Harry drew her into his arms, comforting her as she burst into tears.
‘Hush, my dearest one,’ he soothed, stroking her hair. ‘You should not weep. It is all over and, thanks to you, I am still alive.’
Catherine shook her head, for she knew that her efforts would have been useless had that yell and musket fire not distracted the rogues.
‘It was not I that saved you…’ She looked towards the trees and saw that the newcomer had dismounted and was directing some of their servants to carry away the bodies of the dead. ‘It was this gentleman—’ Her breath caught as the man came towards them and she realised that she knew him. He was the man who had looked at her so boldly, making that outrageous suggestion to her in the village—the man who had paid her father a visit.
Harry turned to look. For a moment he stared at his saviour and then a grin broke over his handsome face. ‘Damn it, if you haven’t saved my life again, Andrew! What coincidence brought you here?’
‘Harry,’ Andrew replied and smiled oddly. ‘It was fortunate that I chanced this way at the right moment, for I am certain they meant to kill you.’
‘And they might have done had my brave sister not flown at them like a she-devil,’ Harry said, looking at Catherine with affection. ‘She had no thought for herself, but we are twins and I would give my life for her if need be.’
Andrew turned to look at Catherine. He knew her instantly, for her face had seldom been out of his mind these past weeks. However, she was far more richly dressed than she had been that day in Melford Village, and he understood that she was of good family.
‘Mistress,’ he said, inclining his head to her. ‘I am Andrew, Earl of Gifford, at your service. You were brave, if a trifle foolhardy. Those rogues would have thought nothing of slitting your throat—and that would have been a tragedy.’
Catherine’s face was pale, but there was pride in her eyes as she looked at him. ‘I would never stand by and see my brother murdered. They might take my life if they pleased, for I could not bear to live if he was so cruelly slain.’
Her twin put at an arm around her shoulder, ‘We are Catherine and Harry Melford, the first born of Lord Robert of Melford,’ Harry told Andrew. ‘Last time you helped me I was on a secret mission and we agreed not to exchange names, but this time we go to court. My sister is to be presented and I am bidden to attend Prince Arthur’s wedding.’
‘As am I,’ Andrew said. ‘We may as well journey together. There is safety in numbers, though I often travel alone—but your sister needs protection, and we cannot be sure that you will not be attacked by another band of rogues.’
‘I should be glad of your company,’ Harry replied. ‘Catherine, you must remount…’
‘Perhaps I may assist?’ Andrew moved towards her palfrey, which the groom had ready. He offered her his hand, and when she came to him, he placed one hand each side of her waist and tossed her up effortlessly. For a moment he stood gazing up at her as she took hold of her reins, his eyes dark with some emotion she could not read. ‘Can you ride, Mistress Melford? Your experience has not shocked you too much? I could take you up with me if you felt faint or ill at ease.’
‘I thank you kindly, sir,’ she replied, a faint blush in her cheeks, ‘but I am well able to ride my horse. I do thank you, though, for coming to help us. I shall be for ever grateful to you. My brother told me a gentleman had saved his life once before, and I believe that must have been you.’
‘I did only what any decent man would do,’ Andrew told her. ‘There may come a time when I shall need help, and if I am fortunate a friend will be there for me.’
Catherine nodded, urging her horse forward as the earl moved away to mount his own steed. Her heart was racing wildly, because the look in his eyes was so bold, so penetrating. She felt that he could see into her mind, read her thoughts—and that would be embarrassing, for she did not wish him to know what she was thinking just now.
The men-at-arms had returned. From what they were saying, it seemed that one of the rogues had escaped. Two of the men were detailed to bury the bodies and meet up with the rest of the party that evening. Catherine spared only a glance for the dead as they passed. She could feel pity, but no remorse for what had been done, because had it not been for good fortune it might have been Harry and her who lay there.
The earl had gone up to the head of the little column, riding beside her brother. She followed behind with the grooms and men-at-arms forming a guard about her. The relaxed feeling of earlier had gone, because they all knew that another attack was possible at any time. The rogues must have thought there was gold and jewels in Harry’s saddlebags, their attack so swift and unexpected that it had almost succeeded.
It was fortunate that the earl had come along when he had, taking the rogues from the rear and causing panic. Her eyes followed him, noting his proud bearing as he rode. She wondered exactly who he was—and why her mother had been made uneasy by his visit. He and Harry were clearly friends, though neither had known the other’s full name until this afternoon. Catherine wished that she had asked her mother more questions at the time of the earl’s visit, though it could not have been anything so very terrible or he would not have been made welcome at their home.
A little smile touched her mouth, because something in the way he had looked as he put her up on her horse was very appealing. She could not help being pleased that he was to travel with them for at least a part of the way, because he had been in her thoughts since the first time she had seen him at the fair. It was foolish, but she had woven dreams about him, about meeting him again—silly, foolish dreams that she would never speak of to anyone. Besides, he had helped to save Harry’s life, and that must mean she would always