Anne Herries - The Lord's Forced Bride

‘I did only what any decent man would do,’ Andrew told her. ‘There may come a time when I shall need help, and if I am fortunate a friend will be there for me.’

Catherine nodded, urging her horse forward as the earl moved away to mount his own steed. Her heart was racing wildly, because the look in his eyes was so bold, so penetrating. She felt that he could see into her mind, read her thoughts—and that would be embarrassing, for she did not wish him to know what she was thinking just now.

The men-at-arms had returned. From what they were saying, it seemed that one of the rogues had escaped. Two of the men were detailed to bury the bodies and meet up with the rest of the party that evening. Catherine spared only a glance for the dead as they passed. She could feel pity, but no remorse for what had been done, because had it not been for good fortune it might have been Harry and her who lay there.

The earl had gone up to the head of the little column, riding beside her brother. She followed behind with the grooms and men-at-arms forming a guard about her. The relaxed feeling of earlier had gone, because they all knew that another attack was possible at any time. The rogues must have thought there was gold and jewels in Harry’s saddlebags, their attack so swift and unexpected that it had almost succeeded.

It was fortunate that the earl had come along when he had, taking the rogues from the rear and causing panic. Her eyes followed him, noting his proud bearing as he rode. She wondered exactly who he was—and why her mother had been made uneasy by his visit. He and Harry were clearly friends, though neither had known the other’s full name until this afternoon. Catherine wished that she had asked her mother more questions at the time of the earl’s visit, though it could not have been anything so very terrible or he would not have been made welcome at their home.

A little smile touched her mouth, because something in the way he had looked as he put her up on her horse was very appealing. She could not help being pleased that he was to travel with them for at least a part of the way, because he had been in her thoughts since the first time she had seen him at the fair. It was foolish, but she had woven dreams about him, about meeting him again—silly, foolish dreams that she would never speak of to anyone. Besides, he had helped to save Harry’s life, and that must mean she would always be grateful to him.

Her heart caught as he glanced back, and their eyes met briefly. Was she allowing her imagination to run too freely—or was there something special in the way he smiled at her?

When they arrived at the house at which they were to stay, their host came out to greet them. Hearing that the earl had helped to save both Harry and Catherine from murderous rogues, he immediately offered him a bed for the night. Andrew hesitated for a moment, then, as Harry urged him to it, he accepted and offered his thanks.

Catherine dismounted with the help of her groom, going into the house ahead of the men, where she was greeted by her hostess. Lady Sallis gathered her into a warm embrace, kissing her on both cheeks.

‘It is so long since I last saw you, dearest Catherine,’ she said, eyeing her up and down. ‘You were a pretty child, but you have grown into a lovely young lady. I think you will do well at court. I am sure your father will receive many offers for you.’

‘Father is not with us, for he has had a fever,’ Catherine told her. ‘But he and Mother will come to court in a couple of weeks or so if they can. I am to be chaperoned by Lady Anne Shearer in the meantime.’

‘Well, I dare say you will do well enough with friends,’ the kind lady said. ‘If I could spare the time to come with you I would, but my daughter-in-law gives birth to her first child soon and I cannot be away at this time.’

‘No, for she will need you,’ Catherine said. ‘Besides, I have my brother and Lady Anne’s family.’

‘Yes, of course,’ Lady Sallis agreed. ‘Come up to your chamber now, my dear. Your maid will soon have the things you need unpacked for this evening. Your baggage arrived earlier and is waiting for you upstairs.’

Catherine glanced over her shoulder as the men came in, listening to their laughter. It seemed that they were all getting on very well, and she felt a little left out, but then the earl glanced at her, such a challenge in his eyes that she felt her heart race. She turned away hastily and followed her hostess up the stairs. Surely he could not be thinking what his eyes seemed to say? He must know that she was a modest girl of good family, and yet that burning look was making her mouth dry and her knees felt so weak that she wondered if her legs would carry her up the stairs.

Andrew walked over to the window of the bedchamber he had been given and looked out at the night. Dusk had fallen fast after they arrived at the comfortable manor house, and he was glad that he had not decided to travel on alone at that hour. It was not wise to be on the roads after dark.

A rueful smile touched his mouth as he wondered what quirk of fate had brought him to this situation. He was a guest of a man that Robert Melford counted amongst his best friends, travelling with Melford’s son and daughter. What would Melford think of that? It was true that they had shaken hands and called a truce between the two families, but he had not been invited to dine with the lady of the house. Melford had hinted that his wife might not find it easy to forgive what had been done to her.

What exactly was that? Andrew wondered. He vaguely recalled his mother saying that his father had given his word to pay the King homage in London, but had broken from his guards and betrayed his promise. He was killed outside his home, but Andrew did not know the rest of the story. When the King summoned him to court he had been told that he would be given a chance to prove himself, but nothing concerning his father—or his father’s distant cousin, the lady Melissa—had ever been mentioned. It remained a mystery to this day, though he believed that it had had something to do with the Marquis of Leominster—and Harold of Meresham.

Did it matter? As far as he was concerned the feud was at an end, had died with Meresham. He liked Harry Melford and…there was something that appealed to him about the sister.

Catherine…her name was Catherine. For a moment a smile lurked about his mouth as he remembered the way she had looked up at him as he lifted her to her horse’s back. Had she felt the attraction between them as deeply as he had? Even at the fair, when their eyes had met so briefly, something had passed between them, and again in the village when he had flirted with her so wickedly. The memory of her lovely face had lingered on in his mind these past weeks. She had not forgotten him either. He would swear to it!

He sighed and shook his head, for he knew that it could not matter. She had stirred him in a way that few women ever had, but he must put the memory from his mind. She was not for him! He had done what he could to restore peace between his family and Melford’s, but he sensed that the mystery went much deeper than he knew. It was unlikely that Melford would agree to closer ties between their families. Andrew should not even consider such a thing. And indeed, why would he? He knew nothing of the girl other than that she made his pulses race and aroused a hot desire in his loins. He could pursue her, tempt her, but he accepted that Catherine of Melford was for marrying, not for seduction. He would be opening a nest of serpents if he thought of anything less than marriage as far as she was concerned. It was true she made him burn with a fierce need that he had never known before, but he doubted anything could come of his feelings. Melford might have declared the past forgotten, but he would not want his daughter to marry Andrew Gifford.