The Sherbrooke Bride (Sherbrooke Brides 1)

She heard his voice and it was loud and mean. “You perfidious female!”

In the next moment, he scooped her up about her waist, bringing her against him and the horse’s side.

Alexandra twisted around and struck at his face. She clipped his jaw solidly and knew a flare of success, but he jerked back and her next blow did nothing but glance off his cheek. He shook her like a bundle of rags and threw her facedown over the saddle. His hands were on her back to prevent her from lurching up. “Hold still, damn you!”

Alexandra felt bile rise in her throat. She tasted failure and she tasted fear and her own nausea. She was going to throw up. She tried desperately to control herself, but in the end, she couldn’t. She vomited on the saddle, on his buckskins, on the horse.

The stallion went berserk at her uncontrollable jerking, the horrible retching noises. He reared violently, jerking the reins from Cadoudal’s hands, flinging them both onto the ground. Alexandra came up immediately, her arms around herself, jerking and shuddering with dry heaves. Finally, the dreadful cramps stopped and she remained still, on her hands and knees, her head lowered, trying to control her breathing.

Finally she looked over and saw Cadoudal on his side looking at her.

She said, “I’m sorry. I tried to stop it but I couldn’t. Is the horse all right?”

He could only stare at her and wonder if he hadn’t struck his head when he landed on the ground. He shook his head now as if to verify that his brains were still inside his skull. His horse was grazing some yards away, looking quite unperturbed by all the ruckus.

“The horse looks to be fine, no thanks to you.”

Her belly cramped again and she moaned softly, jerking once again with the dry heaves.

She was panting when she said, “I’m glad you didn’t feed me. That would have been awful.”

“Why are you ill? I didn’t hurt you, dammit!”

“I don’t know.”

Georges Cadoudal rose and dusted himself off. He leaned down, clasped her beneath her arms, and drew her upright. He frowned at her. “You’re a frowzy mess. You look like hell. I can’t abide a woman who looks like you do.”

Alexandra’s eyes narrowed. “And you look like a man who’s not been outside a brandy bottle in two nights. Ha! Telling me I looked awful!”

Georges Cadoudal laughed.

“Come along. I’m taking you back to the farmhouse.”

She had no choice but to follow him. When they reached the horse, the animal slewed its head around and gave her a ruminating look. “I can’t,” she said, pulling back. “I’ll throw up again.”

She turned to look up at him. “You wouldn’t be so cruel, would you? To make me get on that horse again?”

“I won’t throw you across the horse on your stomach. That’s what made you sick. If you promise to behave yourself, to just sit in front of me, we’ll go slowly.”

“All right.”

It took only a few moments to return to the farmhouse. Alexandra had felt as if she’d run at least one hundred miles if not more. The stitch in her side was only now easing. With a horse, it took only a few minutes. It wasn’t fair.

He dismounted first then lifted her down. “Go into the farmhouse. Drink some water. Sit down. If you so much as show your nose out the door or any of the windows, you will be very sorry.”

Had it been one of Douglas’s threats, Alexandra wouldn’t have paid any attention. However, Georges Cadoudal was an unknown. He was cruel and ruthless and he’d shown himself to be quite determined. It was possible that he planned to kill her. Of course he had given her water to drink. It didn’t quite fit together.

She went into the farmhouse, drank a little water, and sat down on one of the rickety chairs.

When he stepped through the door, kicking it closed behind him, she merely looked at him. He had washed his buckskins and the sick odor was no longer clinging to him.

She said, “Are you going to kill me?”

“No.”

“What are you going to do to me?”

He eyed her.