The Rebel Bride by Catherine Coulter

“This peasant, the bastard, tried to harm you?”

“Well, yes, but, you see, I gave him great provocation by hitting him in the face. Surely that would make anyone rather angry. I should have kicked him in the groin the way Harry showed me to do, but I forgot. The mare struck him in the back, and that saved me.”

“Where is this man?” He realized that for the first time in his life he was most willingly prepared to commit murder. Her blathering moved him not one whit. Good Lord, he could just see her trying to kick the man in the crotch.

“The last time I saw him, he was standing in the road waving his fists at me. Back up there.” She turned and pointed with a grimy finger.

Julien turned abruptly to Crayton. “Take our heroine mare here, James, and let her ladyship mount your horse. Come, Kate, we are going to settle this matter right now. Kick him in the groin? Good God.”

She started to argue, but he ignored her, took her firmly by the arm, and tossed her into the saddle. He ground his teeth at the sight of her bloodied, torn gown.

Kate found herself frightened, not now for herself but rather for Julien. That was surely odd, but nonetheless it was there. “Please, I don’t want you to particularly murder the man, even though he was vicious and a bully.”

He was white with rage. He wasn’t listening to her. She held her tongue. She’d started it all, and now it appeared that he was going to finish it.

“Can you manage the horse?”

“Of course I can. I didn’t lose my skill, just my temper.”

“Very well. Cease your advice and pay heed to not falling off. Kick him in the groin? I don’t believe it.”

Kate had not much choice in the matter, for Julien vaulted into the saddle and urged his horse into a gallop.

Julien was furious at the man who would dare try to harm her, and he wanted to box her ears for being so stupid as to walk out alone. That she’d been brave and saved the mare he stored away for future consideration. Fortunately, it was not long before his rational self reappeared and he was forced to admit that Kate had, after all, quite unlawfully interfered and stolen the man’s horse. His blood ran cold at the thought of what would have happened if she hadn’t had the quickness of wit to escape on the mare. Damnation. How could he wring the man’s neck, when, if one were logical, the fellow had had just provocation?

She was praying devoutly that the peasant would be gone. But when they rounded a bend in the road, she saw to her despair that he hadn’t budged and now stood in the roadway, legs apart, holding the knobby stick tightly in one hand.

Julien drew up some distance from the peasant and turned to her. “You will stay here—”

“No, I want—”

“Bloody hell, woman, you will do as I tell you. You move a muscle, exercise your tongue just once, and it will be the worse for you. Do you understand me?”

She nodded, pale and now quite frightened for him. She called after him, “Please be careful. I don’t want us both hauled to the magistrate.”

Julien ignored her, saying to Crayton, “Stay with her ladyship, James, and don’t bloody let her leave this spot. Jesus, at least she forgot to kick him in the crotch.”

She sat huddled in the saddle, wishing that a Swiss regiment would somehow magically appear. She watched tensely as Julien strode toward the peasant. She hunched lower in the saddle and bit her lip as the man brandished the stick in Julien’s face and yelled wildly in her direction. At the next moment, Kate blinked in astonishment, for the man lay sprawled in the dirt and Julien stood over him, calmly rubbing his knuckles. When the man finally struggled to his feet, he appeared to have shrunken visibly in size, or so it seemed to her. She wasn’t really surprised that her husband could see to himself and to her. It rather pleased her, but then again, she had been the one who initially saved the mare. Julien had come in on the last act, so to speak. This was only an epilogue.