The Rebel Bride by Catherine Coulter

The man pulled his horse to a halt and dismounted easily, still holding her pinioned against him. She could struggle now, and she did, trying to strike his face, trying to get loose enough so she could kick him. But he just pulled her hard against him, grasped her hands, and fastened them against her sides. She kicked his shin. Her boot connected with bone and flesh, though, and he gave a cry of surprise and pain. In the next instant she was flat on her her back on the ground, the cloaked man out of reach of her flailing legs.

She froze when he leaned close over her and said in guttural, accented English, his voice muffled by his mask, “I won’t harm you. Hold still, liebchen.”

She forced her numbed mind to alertness, realizing that she must be calm, use her wits. The man had spoken to her, he’d spoken German. What did liebchen mean? Something about darling or beloved? Something like that, but surely that made no sense at all. She had to reason with him.

“What do you want? Please, talk to me, tell me why you’re doing this.” He said nothing at all. “Damn you, talk to me or I will hurt you very badly!”

He remained silent, faceless, now fumbling for something in one of the pockets of his black greatcoat. She tried to squirm away, but his other arm held her firmly. “Please,” she said, pleading now, so afraid she was shaking. “What do you want of me? I have no money and I have done you no injury.” Dear God, where was Julien? The thought of him brought her new hope. Perhaps this man didn’t know who she was.

“Listen to me. I have a husband, he is the earl of March. He is an English nobleman and a very powerful man. You must realize that he will miss me. He will kill you if you don’t let me go this instant. Please, I don’t speak German. Tell me you understand me. Damn you, tell me!”

Her voice was thin as a reed, her fright clear, but still the man didn’t say anything. She didn’t know if her words made any impression on him, or if he even understood her, for the mask and hat covered his head completely. They made him all the more terrifying, seemingly faceless.

He withdrew a white handkerchief and with it a small vial of liquid.

“What are you going to do?” She was hollow with fear, numb with it. Before she knew what he was about, he leaned his body over her chest and wet the handkerchief with the liquid. He straightened, grasped her shoulders firmly, and brought the cloth over her face. A strong odor filled her nostrils, and she began to struggle frantically. She thrashed her head back and forth, trying to escape the cloth.

Without realizing it, she inhaled deeply and tasted the bitter liquid, felt it raw down the back of her throat. She began to feel light-headed, reason, fight, struggle, all deserting her. The man eased his arm around her head and held her still. She cried out then and fell into blackness.

26

Kate opened her eyes and blinked rapily, trying to free her mind of the terrifying remnants of her nightmare. She shuddered, for the fear was still so very real, and tried to rise, but her body wouldn’t obey her. She focused her eyes in an effort to clear away the clinging light-headedness and realized with a start that she wasn’t in her own room. She hadn’t dreamed the man, the drugged cloth pressed over her face. She made a determined effort to rise, only to find that her arms were pulled above her head and her wrists securely tied to the posts of a bed. She lifted her head from the pillow and tugged with all her strength, but she couldn’t free herself.

She lay back, panting, and tried to calm herself. Why had the man brought her to this place? There had to be some mistake, he had to have believed she was another woman, a stranger. She realized in that instant that she wasn’t wearing her riding habit. She saw the skirt, blouse, and jacket neatly folded over a chair. Even her boots were placed next to the chair. All she was wearing was her shift. With terrifying clarity she pictured herself half-clothed, the cotton shift coming only to mid-thigh, her arms drawn away from her body. He had tied her down, she was helpless. What did he want with her? Somewhere, deep within her, she knew why she was tied down, knew what he wanted with her, knew exactly what would happen, knew what this man would do to her.