My Favorite Bride Read Free Page A

. . . she stopped and leaned against a tree. “My feet hurt.”
    Which didn’t matter at all when she heard a crashing in the underbrush. She didn’t even try to see what or where it was. She took off in a sprint.
    A beast galloped onto the road right in front of her, forcing her to a stop.
    â€œRuddy ‘ell!” Before she could turn and dash the other direction, a man’s hand reached down and snagged her by her collar, and his deep voice thundered, “Halt! What are you doing here?”
    A horse. A horse and rider.
    She could scarcely speak for relief. “I’m trying to get to Silvermere.”
    â€œSilvermere? What for?”
    Which was when she realized he had her by the collar. This man clutched her by the collar as if she were a puppy. Grabbing his wrist, she twisted around to look up at him. “Who are you to question me so rudely?”
    She filled in her own answer. A big, tall, good-looking man. She couldn’t make out the details, the dusk had grown too thick, but what she could see looked quite marvelous. A healthy head of dark hair, cut neatly around his face and ears. Starkcheekbones with shadowy hollows beneath them. A square jaw, thrust forward and tight with determination. A thin nose. A long nose. Some might say a big nose, but one that sat well on that face of crags and valleys.
    And better still, a lovely set of broad shoulders with a narrow waist and obviously strong arms. Beneath her hand, his wrist was taut and corded, and so wide her fingers didn’t span it.
    She couldn’t see his eyes, though, and without them she couldn’t read his mind. Well, except for his hostility.
    She would have thought, when he saw her, a slender young woman, he would release her, but instead he tightened his grip. “Answer me. Who are you, and why are you going to Silvermere?”
    Her initial relief at seeing a man, not a wolf or a monster, faded. He held her so close she could feel his horse’s warmth and smell its sweat. The proximity of its crushing hooves, so close to her own feet, made her try to back away, and when he simply moved the creature closer, she gave a shriek. “Would you stop? That beast is going to step on me.”
    â€œStand still and all will be well.”
    She precisely remembered the tone of a constable’s voice when he collared a thief, and this fellow had that tone. Gritty. Disdainful. Implacable.
    â€œI’m Miss Samantha Prendregast and I’m the new governess.” She did not ask him if they kept livestock in the houses hereabout. No one could say she didn’t learn from her mistakes.
    The fellow let go of her collar.
    She gave a sigh of relief and straightened her gown. “That’s better. Now—who are you and what are you doing riding the roads and grabbing young women by the—”
    Leaning over, he removed her reticule from her arm.
    She grabbed for it.
    He held it away from her.
    â€œWhat are you doing?” she shouted. She knew what he was doing; she just couldn’t believe it. What an irony, for her to have her purse nicked as soon as she left the City.
    He felt the outside of the soft black velvet, then brought forth the contents. A handkerchief. The key to her trunk. The stub of her train ticket. And a modest, very modest, sum of money.
    She never made the mistake of carrying any but the least of her funds in her reticule. She kept most of her money strapped beneath her garter. Tonight, if her bad luck held, he would realize that and be under her skirts at once.
    But he put the contents of her reticule back in and handed it to her.
    She snatched the purse and wondered if madmen and bullies always roamed the countryside.
    â€œWhy are you afoot? Was there an accident?” For all that he had let her go, that commanding tone had not dissipated. If anything, it had sharpened, grown more insistent.
    â€œOf sorts. The groom from the Hawksmouth Inn dumped me and my trunk on