The carriage came to a halt. Merimon dismounted, tied his horse to a wheel and came up to open the door.
‘Step out, milady. We take you no further.’
Cassie protested furiously as he grabbed her wrist and hauled her out of the carriage.
‘How dare you treat me thus,’ she raged at him. ‘Your contract is to take me to Le Havre. You will not get the rest of your money if you do not do so.’
His coarse laugh sent a chill running through her.
‘No? Since you have no friends in Le Havre, and no banker, you must be carrying your money with you. Is that not the truth?’
The chill turned to icy fear.
‘Nonsense,’ she said stoutly. ‘I would not be so foolish as to—’
Another horrid laugh cut through her protests.
‘But certainly you would. Give me your purse now and perhaps we will not hurt you quite so much.’
Cassie glanced behind her to see that the postilion had dismounted and hobbled his horses. He was now walking slowly towards her. If only she had not left her bonnet in the chaise she might have made use of the two very serviceable hatpins that were secured in it. As it was she had only her wits and her own meagre strength to rely on. She took a step away from Merimon who made no move to stop her. Why should he, when the postilion was blocking her retreat?
‘I shall be missed,’ she said. ‘I have told friends I shall write to them from Rouen.’
‘A week at least before they begin to worry, if they ever do.’ Merimon gestured dismissively. ‘No one cares what happens to you, apart from your husband, and he is dead. I cannot believe the English détenus will be in a hurry to tear themselves away from their pleasures.’
No, thought Cassandra, neither could she believe it. Gerald had ensured that all her friends there had been his cronies, selfish, greedy persons who only professed affection if it was to their advantage. She was alone here, she was going to have to fight and it was unlikely that she would win. Cassie tensed as Merimon drew a long knife from his belt. He gave her an evil grin.
‘Well, milady, do we get your money before or after we have taken our pleasure?’
‘Never, I should think.’
The sound of the deep, amused drawl had them all turning towards the carriage.
A stranger was untying the reins of Merimon’s horse. The man was a little over average height, bare-headed, bearded and dressed in ragged homespun, but there was nothing of the peasant about his bearing. He carried himself like a soldier and his voice was that of one used to command.
‘You will move away from the lady now, if you know what’s good for you.’
‘We have no quarrel with you, citizen,’ called Merimon. ‘Be on your way.’
‘Oh, I do not think so.’
The stranger was walking towards them, leading the bay. With his untidy hair and thick beard his face was but little more than a dark shape in the moonlight, but Cassie saw the gleam of white as he grinned. For a long moment there was silence, tense and expectant, then everything exploded into action. With a howl of rage Merimon hurled himself at the stranger and at the same time Cassie saw the postilion bearing down upon her.
That was fortunate, she thought. Merimon was the bigger of the two and he had a knife. With the postilion she had a chance. Cassie tensed as he approached, his arms outstretched. His ugly, triumphant grin told her he thought she was petrified, but just as he launched himself forward she acted. In one smooth, fluid movement she stepped aside, turning, bending and scooping up a branch about the length and thickness of her own arm. Without a pause she gripped the branch with both hands and carried it with all her force against the back of the postilion’s knees. He dropped to the ground with a howl.
‘Nicely done, mademoiselle.’ The stranger trotted up, mounted on the bay. He held out his hand to her. ‘Well?’ he said. ‘Do you want to come with me, or would you prefer to take your chances here with these scélérats?’
Villains indeed, thought Cassie, quickly glancing about her. Merimon was on his knees, groggily shaking his head, and the postilion was already staggering to his feet. Swiftly she ran across to the stranger. She grasped his outstretched hand, placed one foot on his boot and allowed him to pull her up before him. He lifted her easily and settled her across his thighs before urging the horse to a canter.
Cassie had no fear of falling, the stranger’s strong arms held her firmly before him. The choice, since she was sitting sideways, was to turn into the man or away and Cassie opted for the latter, twisting her body to look ahead. The black shawl had snagged on one arm of her riding habit and now it fluttered like a pennant over her shoulder. It must have flown into the rider’s face because without a word he pulled it free, tossing it aside as they pounded away into the darkness of the trees. Cassie turned her head to watch it drift slowly to the ground behind them. Her only symbol of grieving for her husband, for her marriage. It was gone. She faced forward again, looking ahead into the darkness. Into the unknown future.
Copyright © 2016 by Sarah Mallory
ISBN-13: 9781488004070
Saved by Scandal’s Heir
Copyright © 2016 by Janice Preston
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