The Accidental Bride (b-2) by Jane Feather

Author:Jane Feather [Feather, Jane]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: love_history

Chapter 12

The shot crossed the bay’s withers just as they were approaching the village of Eynsham. It was so close it almost ruffled the animal’s mane, but the charger was accustomed to the fire of a battlefield and didn’t so much as start in alarm.

Phoebe didn’t immediately realize what had happened. She heard the crack and the whine but for a minute couldn’t place the sound. Then there came a bloodcurdling shriek of triumph, and a party of men broke from the trees on the path just behind them.

“What is it? Is it the deserters?” Phoebe gasped, swiveling to look over her shoulder.

“I imagine so,” Cato said, sounding utterly calm. “I’ve been expecting them these last two miles. Hold on tight now, because we’re going to outrun them.”

Phoebe circled his narrow waist and clung on as the bay broke into a gallop. Another musket shot whistled close to Phoebe’s ear, and she couldn’t hold back a little scream.

“There’s nothing to be alarmed about,” Cato said, as coolly as before, over the thundering of the bay’s hooves on the lane.

“There isn’t?” Phoebe found that hard to believe, but Cato’s calm was infectious. She glanced over her shoulder again. “Some of them have gone off into the field at the side.”

“I was afraid of that. They’re going to try to cut us off at the corner.” Cato abruptly swung the bay to the left.

Phoebe stared at the massive hedge looming up before them. There was no way through it. And then she understood. They were going over it.

“Oh God!” she whispered, closing her eyes tightly, burying her face against Cato’s back, her hands gripping his belt at the front so that she felt as if her body was an extension of his.

The bay rose into the air. Phoebe’s stomach dropped, her gut turned to water. She bit her lip and tasted blood. The hedge scraped the bay’s belly as he soared over. His back hooves caught the top and then he thundered down into a stream the other side of the hedge. Icy water flew upward, soaking the hem of Phoebe’s skirt as the animal stumbled to his knees.

Cato hauled him up and the bay struggled onto the bank. Cato swore when he realized the horse was limping. There were shouts from the far side of the hedge, but their pursuers were clearly not going to follow them over the jump.

Cato glanced around. There was a copse at the back of the field. Their attackers might well give up, assuming their quarry would be well away by now, but then again they might seek a way around the hedge. From the copse he’d be able to hold them off. The bay could walk, but nothing faster.

Cato dismounted, took the bridle, and led the animal towards the copse.

“Should I get down too?” Phoebe asked, automatically grabbing for the pommel as she found herself unsupported atop the great horse.

“No,” he said. “I don’t want you running off.”

“But where d’you think I’d go?” Phoebe looked anxiously over her shoulder in search of pursuit.

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