The Rebel Bride by Catherine Coulter

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.”

24

Julien 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.”