His mouth was wet and tasted of ale, as she fought to push him away. She had never felt so helpless, and it was all so very wrong. She shouted at him to let go but he wasn’t listening to her. His mouth was all over hers, his hands tearing at her gown, searching for bare flesh.
And then he was gone.
Sophy gasped up at the sky through the crooked branches, trying to catch her breath. To her side she could hear grunting and the sounds of a struggle. She got up onto her knees.
Harry and Digby were rolling about in the snow, fighting. Harry rolled on top, and his fist came down upon Digby again and again, striking him in the face. Dark blood stained the snow. Digby hissed, fighting back, twisting and turning beneath his larger opponent, to no avail. Harry hit him again and it was all over.
Harry pushed him away and Digby curled into himself in a ball, shoulders heaving, shudders running down his back. Harry stood over him, his panting breath coming out in white spurts.
“You’re leaving in the morning.”
Digby lifted his head and muttered a curse but made no other response. Harry watched him a moment more, then wiped a hand across his face and turned to Sophy. She stared up at him, eyes wide, shaking from the cold and the shock of the attack.
Then Harry dropped to his knees and wrapped his arms around her
, holding her so tight that for a moment she couldn’t breathe. But it was good. So good that she pressed closer, wishing she could melt into his body and disappear.
“Did he hurt you?” Harry asked. He pushed her back so that he could see her face, then cupped her cheeks in his cold hands. There was blood on one of them.
She shook her head, because he hadn’t hurt her, not in the way Harry meant. “He frightened me,” she said shakily. “I think he wanted to hurt you, that was why—”
“I am so sorry,” he said, his voice breaking. “This is my fault, Soph, and I am so sorry.”
She stared back at him. She knew what he said was true, but she wasn’t used to Harry being at fault for anything. “It was Digby,” she said at last, seeking a compromise.
Harry wasn’t listening. “I should have known he’d try to get back at me. I should have known—”
“I didn’t want to go with him. He was too strong and no one heard me scream.”
He groaned and held her tight again. “I followed your footprints in the snow,” he said. “I came as fast as I could when I realised what must be happening.”
Her gaze slid over his shoulder. Digby had risen to his feet and was standing, watching them. There was something angry and bitter in his face, so much so that she thought he was going to fling himself at Harry and fight him again, but instead he turned away, trudging back the way they had come.
“He hates you,” she said.
Harry had turned to watch his friend go, but he didn’t seem to care about Digby’s feelings anymore. “Right now the feeling is mutual.” He began to murmur into her hair and kiss her cold, damp cheeks.
“I love you,” he said. “I love you more than anything, Sophy. I’ll never let anyone hurt you again, I swear.”
And because he was Harry, she believed him.
HARRY
Harry felt as if his heart had been wrenched from his body. The sight of Sophy struggling with Digby, of him pressing her down and pulling at her clothing, threatened to suffocate him. It would be a long time before he was able to remember these moments without wanting to strike Digby’s face again. Over and over.
Sophy was his. She would always be his. They were meant to be and if he hadn’t known it already then he knew it now. Life without Sophy would be nothing more than a half-life, and he couldn’t begin to contemplate that. He would marry her and live at Pendleton Manor with her, and eventually be buried in the Baillieu family crypt by her side.
“Come on,” he said gently, and reached out to help her to her feet. Sophy’s hand was chilled and he squeezed it tight. They turned back toward the barn.
“I don’t think you should tell my father,” she said, looking at him anxiously. “Not because I care about your friend, Harry, but because …” She bit her lip, giving him another anxious look. “He might blame you and stop me from seeing you.”
“He should blame me. It was my fault.”
She chewed on her lip, watching him, and he realised she was seeking a way to absolve him.
He shook his head. “You can tell me I’m an idiot, Sophy. I deserve it.”
Her mouth kicked up in a faint smile, and then she shivered. He stopped and wrapped his arms around her.