The Rebel Bride by Catherine Coulter

She looked up unwillingly into his set face and, to her own chagrin, felt tears of frustration spill onto her cheeks.

She got hold of herself, but it was hard. She even managed to say calmly enough, “There is no coincidence. You’ve never been involved in a single coincidence in your bloody life. Why are you here? How did you find me? Damn you, let me go.”

“No, I like you here, against me, my arms around you. Just hold still. I don’t wish to fight with you more just yet.” His features softened, and a look of great warmth came into his eyes. He tightened his arms about her and gently touched his cheek to her hair.

Finally, completely wearied and exhausted by her hunger and by her unwelcome relief at being here with him, she flattened her fists and stood willingly against him.

After a few moments she drew her head back from the circle of his arms and gave a watery sniff. She said in a matter-of-fact voice, “I’m a ninny. This isn’t me, this watering pot. It’s just that I’m hungry.”

A smile lit his eyes, and he raised a gloved hand to brush away the tears from her face.

“That, at least, is something I can remedy to your satisfaction.”

“If you will simply disappear, that will be more to my satisfaction than food.”

Julien arched his eyebrows and regarded her with mild surprise. “I won’t leave you. Come now, I’m merely offering you breakfast. Cry peace, Kate, cry peace, at least until after you’ve stuffed yourself. You’re hardly a worthy opponent on an empty stomach.”

She would have liked very much to yell at him, to curse him in Harry’s most colorful epitaphs, but she couldn’t think of any that she hadn’t already called him too many times. It dawned on her with a good deal of force that she had finally lost.

“I should have gone to India.”

Julien bit back sudden laughter, relieved and charmed, as he always was by her. “No, not India, I think, my dear. There you would serve many men, being a beautiful woman without protection. Indeed you’re fortunate, my love. You need to serve but one man, namely me. Come, I’m not such a bad fellow. I have all my teeth, I’ll never gain flesh, and I’ve been told I’m rather an excellent lover. Also, I plan to be faithful as a hound by the hearth.”

She looked ready to quite literally spit on him, and he quickly released her, took her arms, and said, “Come, let’s find a café and feed you properly.”

She fell into a stiff step beside him. As they emerged from the gardens, they passed once again the lady and gentleman and Kate saw the lady gaze at Julien coyly from beneath her lashes.

“Why, that disloyal ninny, she quite deserves to be whipped. Eyeing you and all the while simpering up at that other fellow.”

“On that point, ma’am, we find ourselves in complete agreement.”

“Not that I care, you understand. It’s my hunger that’s making me say stupid things. The lady could have thrown herself on you for all I care.”

“I quite understand. What more could a man ask for? I presume you will be a fiercely loyal and faithful wife, that you will guard my virtue with uncompromising vigilance.” He squeezed her arm.

“You’re a damned toad. You know very well what I meant. You can’t force me to wed you, Julien. These aren’t medieval times, when outlaw barons captured their brides in raids. No, this is a quite civilized time, and it’s absurd.”

“Ah, so very sure, are you? Well, we’ll see, won’t we?”

She shut her mouth, though he guessed it required strong resolution on her part. He looked down at the beautiful face beside him. She was so very proud. He admired her greatly, truth be told. Even when he’d wanted to shake her for being so damned obstinate and blind to her own needs, he could not help respecting her.

When Eliza had come panting into his breakfast room the morning of her flight, he at first wanted to beat her soundly the moment he got his hands on her. But then he grinned, for he’d suspected— nay, he’d known deep down— that her docile behavior was anything but an indication that he’d finally brought her to heel. She had certainly succeeded in making him feel the fool. He told Eliza not to say a word to Lady Bellingham, then immediately dispatched several of his retainers to the posting houses in London. He was informed within two hours that a young lady answering Kate’s description had taken the mail coach to Dover. So she was off to France, was she? Were he not certain in his own mind that she cared for him, he would have readily drawn the conclusion that such an outrageous and even dangerous act by a young lady of breeding was an evident sign of loathing. But he was certain that she did want him. After her miserable existence with her father, it was no wonder that she looked askance at a man who wanted to be her husband. He looked impatiently toward getting this damned marriage over with. Then he would show her once and for all that she could trust him, that he would never hurt her, that she could believe him.