Janet scurried out of the room without further prompting, and Branford plopped into the chair by the fire and dropped his head into his hands. Unsure of what to do, I prepared his plate in silence and set it on the table closest to him. As I started to back away, Branford reached out and wrapped his hand around my wrist. He pulled me toward him and then placed me sideways on his lap. He wrapped his arms tightly around me and held me close to his chest.
“I never should have allowed her to return with us,” he mumbled against the top of my head. “I do not like having her here…in my way.”
“How is she in your way?” I asked.
“When she is here, I cannot touch you the way I wish,” he said with a growl, and I felt his hand reach down under my skirts. He gripped my bare thigh with his fingers but did not venture farther. Instead, he brought me in close to his chest again. He was silent for some time.
“Branford, what has upset you?” I finally asked when the silence became too much.
He blew a long breath, ruffling the hair on the top of my head.
“Nothing, my wife,” he said softly. “Nothing you need to worry about anyway.”
I nodded slightly, wishing he would tell me what was obviously bothering him but knowing he would not.
“Are you hungry?” I asked.
“Yes,” he responded, “but I do not wish to eat just yet.”
I nodded again and fell silent. He held me like that for many minutes before he finally decided to take his meal though he did not eat as heartily as he usually did. I hoped he was not feeling ill.
“I need to go to Sawyer,” he announced as he finished his meal.
I looked down at my hands.
“How long will you be gone?” I asked.
“I want you with me,” he said with conviction. “I will not have you out of my sight—not now.”
“Not now?” I repeated. Branford looked up at me, meeting my eyes for the first time since he woke.
“I need to know you are safe,” he finally said. “Safe means with me.”
I spent the rest of the day in the stuffy carriage with my husband, who refused to explain to me what was going on or why we were going to Sawyer other than to say he needed to speak with Parnell. Once we got there, his conversation lasted all of fifteen minutes, and we were heading back to the carriage again.
I did not understand his behavior at all.
“Are you sure they will be ready?” Branford said softly to Parnell as we were about to depart.
“Of course, Branford,” Sir Parnell said as he clasped his hand on Branford’s shoulder. “I will not let you down.”
Branford took my hand and assisted me into the carriage. I settled back for another long ride, for it would be nearly nightfall by the time we reached our home. Branford was again silent and brooding. He reached out and took my hand, holding it between his as we rode along, but when questioned, he would not offer me an explanation.
We had been riding in silence for some time when the carriage suddenly veered to one side and then came to an abrupt stop. Branford’s brow furrowed, and he leaned over to open the door slightly and peek outside. He swore under his breath.
“Bandits,” Branford said with a snarl. He placed his hand on my shoulder for a brief second before he stood and headed out the carriage door. I heard him shouting as soon as the door closed again, but I could not hear his words. With the coming darkness and the closed carriage door, I could not make out what was happening at all. I rose from the bench and made my way outside.
It happened so quickly, I felt as though I had barely had time to blink before it was over. First, I was coming out of the carriage, and Branford had his sword drawn against one of the robbers, and he seemed prepared to run the man through. There was already another body lying on the side of the road, a few feet from them. I saw Branford thrust his sword forward and then draw it back, covered in the blood of the man in front of him.
That was when I felt rough fingers gripping my upper arm and pulling me toward the front of the carriage. I screamed, and Branford turned, his eyes wide as the gruff man placed his knife against my throat.
I had never seen Branford so obviously terrified.
He clenched the hilt of his sword and started to take a step forward. The man holding me screamed at him as the blade pressed against my neck.
“Stop where you are!” he yelled out. “I will slice her open! I swear it!”
“Do not harm her,” Branford said. The strain in his voice was evident. He crouched, and in surrender, slowly laid his sword on the ground. “Tell me what you want, and I shall make it happen.”