The Rebel Bride by Catherine Coulter

“Damnation, what the devil?” He was at her side in an instant and drew her up against him. She cried out, and he picked her up in his arms and deposited her gently on the sofa. She lay back against the cushions and took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, just give me but a few moments and I shall be fine. It’s all the activity. I’m not used to it, and—”

“Enough falsehood. What the hell is the matter? Why can’t you walk? No, don’t you shake your head at me. I can see even more lies forming on your tongue. If you don’t tell me the truth this instant, I swear I’ll tear off your breeches and examine you.”

“All right. That wretched peasant, he struck my leg with his stick when I jumped onto Gabriella’s back. But I assure you, Julien, it’s only a bruise, a small bruise, nothing to concern you. I bumped into the chair and made it hurt, but just a little bit.”

He struck his forehead with his hand in disbelief and exasperation. “Woman, you would try the patience of my father, who wasn’t at all a saint but believed himself one. And you were foolish enough to fence with me with your leg hurt? I begin to believe your brain would fit neatly into a thimble.”

Kate eased herself into a sitting position. “I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d not let us fence tonight, and I wanted to so very much. Please, Julien, I’m all right.”

“Listen to me, dammit— no, this argument is quite ridiculous.” He lifted her in his arms, ignoring her protests. As he carried her up the stairs, she asked in a small voice, “You’re just taking me to my room, aren’t you?”

“No, and just be quiet. I’m going to see just how foolish you’ve been. No, don’t argue with me. I’m going to look at your leg myself.” As she tensed perceptibly in his arms, he added, “I mean it. Just be silent for once in your life.”

“Couldn’t you simply ask Mrs. Crayton?”

“Be quiet.”

She was laid very gently on her bed. “Don’t move. I will try not to hurt you, just hold still.” He unfastened her breeches and pulled them down. “Lift your hips.”

She froze, staring at his face, but there was no lust there to be seen, no man’s desire, just determination and anger. She lifted her hips. He peeled the breeches to her knees, then looked at her leg. He cursed, long and fluently.

The bruise had swollen and turned a deep purplish black. Gently he probed around the area and slowly moved his fingers to the swollen bruise. She stiffened in pain but made no sound. He straightened and stood quietly in frowning thought. He said finally, “I don’t think a doctor is necessary, but you will have to curb your activities for a while. Damnation, I still can’t believe this. Are you in pain now?”

“Oh, no, I promise I’m not.”

“Of course, I disbelieve you. I’ll send Maria to you with some laudanum in water. If you don’t drink it, it will go badly for you.”

“Damnation, I could have pierced your heart at least five times in as many minutes. You must think constantly and observe me carefully. You aren’t fencing by yourself nor with a blind man. Never underestimate the skill of your opponent.”

She stood panting with exertion, her face glistening with sweat. “Aye, you’re right.” It didn’t occur to her to take offense.

“Lunge, withdraw! Lunge, withdraw!” She pushed herself until her arm trembled with fatigue.

It was invariably Julien who halted their lessons, not Kate. After one day of enforced inactivity, she’d announced that she was fit as a fiddle and skipped several times in front of him to prove that her leg no longer pained her.

He’d agreed to riding, which was more than she had hoped for, which she didn’t tell him, of course.

During the next three days, their time had fallen into a comfortable pattern. They fenced in the mornings and explored the countryside surrounding the villa in the afternoons. Gabriella appeared to be favorably disposed toward Kate, her former life with the peasant forgotten.