Page 1 of The Marchioness of his Desire
Prologue
“Hurry up!”
Little Rebecca lifted her skirts higher. She would catch him this time for certain. In fact, she would dare the short-cut. Anything to beat him to their hideout.
She stopped, just as Nicholas turned round.
“I shall beat you this time, Nicky! Watch me!” She made a sharp turn and sped across the closely cropped grass, her feet pounding and heart racing.
“No, Becks! Stop!” Nicholas’ voice held a frantic tone.
She grinned. Of course, he was frantic.
He knew she would win by coming this way. A few more yards to the spinney, a quick climb over the stile, and then she would be racing across the meadow to their secret hiding place in the caves near the lake. There was no way he would catch her up now.
She slowed as she reached the edge of the spinney. He might have thirteen years to her ten and have much longer legs, but she knew how to maneuver quickly through the trees and brambles of the spinney. Darting among the brush and tree trunks, she could hear him reach the spinney.
“Becks! ‘Tis not safe!” He was panting.
Good. She was nearly through the densest part and would reach the stile in moments. Once she was in the meadow, he would never reach her.
She was so focused on her footing that she failed to hear the noise in the meadow beyond the narrow gap in the hedge. The stile was just ahead. She looked back as she placed her foot on the bottom step. Nicholas was closer than she had thought he was. Before she could speak, she felt his arm circle her waist and pull her back, just as a rush of warm air engulfed her face.
The next thing she knew, she was on her face in the dirt with a branch poking into her side.
“Stay very still, Becks,” Nicholas whispered into her ear. “If we do not rile him, he will go on his way.”
She had started to squirm, trying to get away from the branch, but she lay still as soon as Nicholas spoke. She did not know what had happened, but she knew she would be safe as long as Nicholas was with her.
For a few moments Rebecca could hear a strange snuffling and snorting sort of sound on the other side of the hedge separating her father’s property from that of Nicholas’ father. Nicholas had laid his hand upon her back, and she felt certain he would let no harm come to her, whatever had caused his alarm.
As the odd noise faded, Nicholas laughed and stood beside her. He batted dust off his trousers and offered his hand to help her up as well.
“What were you thinking, you peagoose?” He leaned forward and picked several small sticks from her tousled hair.
Rebecca stopped shaking the dust from her skirt and examined her side where the branch had poked her.
“I? What was I thinking? Why — I would have beaten you to the cave had you not flung me off the stile. What were you thinking?” She batted his hands away from her braids. “Just look at my dress! That branch has made a hole in the side, just here.” She pulled at the small tear in the fabric of the bodice, enlarging it enough to reveal a small patch of red staining her white chemise. “Oh! And I am bleeding!” Her fingers curled into fists, and she beat at his chest and arms as he laughed.
“Here, now. Let me have a look, you wildcat.” He pushed her fists down and bent his head to examine her side. “Hmm… ‘tis a mighty fearful wound you have here, Becks. I cannot be certain you shall survive it.”
“Oh, you…” Rebecca renewed her assault on his lowered head. “Why did you snatch me off the step like that, you blackguard?”
Nicholas captured her flying hands and brought his head up, a smile stretching across his lips. “Now, now, Lady Rebecca. Mind your tongue, or I shall have to speak to your mother about your manners in company.”
“You knew I would win if I crossed the stile ahead of you. That is why you tossed me on the ground.” That teasing smile of his made her blood boil. She pulled her hands from his grasp.
“I tossed you to the ground, little urchin,” he flung one arm toward the meadow as he stepped toward her, “because I knew that you would be trampled to death if you set a precious little boot into that meadow.”
“What do you mean? The meadow is empty of cattle or horses, and, I daresay, had a lost sheep found its way there, I could have defended myself from a trampling, Nicholas.” She crossed her arms and tipped her chin up as she had seen one of the maids do when she was arguing with a footman.
“What a goose you are, Becks.” He picked pine needles from one of her braids. “They brought Old Ned to the meadow today. I only saw him on my walk here, so you were not to know. He has gone blind as a bat, but he can still do some damage, for all that.”
“Old Ned?” The air whooshed from her lungs, and her legs wobbled.
“Here now.” Nicholas grabbed her upper arms and lowered her to sit on the ground. “Your face is white as a sheet.” He patted her shoulder. “‘Tis alright now, my girl. You are safe.”
Rebecca pushed her palms against the ground, feeling the cold earth and the sharp tips of broken twigs press into her skin. Old Ned. She had been terrified of the enormous bull ever since she could remember. Why, if she had gotten into the meadow, no doubt he would have made a quick end to her. She gulped. Nicholas had saved her life. She looked up at him.
