Love's Savage Bonds (8 page)

Catherine screamed into the gag as she
saw the bullet's impact on Cathcart's chest, staggering the old soldier, blood
gushing down his tunic. There was another explosive report as Cathcart got off
one shot, which seemed to graze Lefanu's arm, before collapsing to the floor.

“
Merde!
” Lefanu’s voice was an
animal snarl.

Catherine could hear confused voices,
and feet pounding toward them. Servants? The sheriff? No matter, Lefanu wasn’t
planning to wait to find out.  The Frenchman threw aside his tiny pistol,
then grabbed up the revolver he had shot Philip with. He reached out, and once
more plunged his fingers deep into Catherine’s long hair, twisting his grip
savagely.

“Now, you English bitch—if you’ll not
be my bride, you will at least be my passport out of here.” He raced for the
door, the pain in her scalp forcing Catherine to scramble along in his wake,
her bound arms making every step agony. She tried to raise a cry, but gagged
whimpers were all she could manage.

The black brougham was still waiting
outside. Lefanu yanked open the door and threw his captive inside; Catherine sprawled
to the floor, landing painfully on her shoulder.

Lefanu shouted something in French, the
driver spurred on the horses, and they were off like a shot. Lefanu turned
around in the seat, glaring savagely at the woman who lay bound and gagged at
his feet.

“Now, Lady Catherine,” he sneered over
the leveled revolver. “I want you to imagine every depredation that a man can
visit upon a woman's body and soul...” his eyes burned into her as he leaned
closer... “
because you will taste them all before I have finished with you.
”
He traced the barrel of the gun along her cheek, the oily metal as cold and
hard as his countenance. “When we reach Paris, I will have you kept a prisoner
in the house of a Madame who is indebted to me. There, your insolent mouth will
learn the taste of more than a gag. And that will be just the beginning.”

Catherine pointlessly shook her head,
her eyes filled with tears of despair. Lefanu had been about to resume his vile
threats when he stopped, cocking his head at a sound…

A sound that Catherine now heard.
Hoofbeats… and did she dare imagine that they seemed to be the beats of an
unusually large horse? Large, and black, and bearing on its back…

“No—Charles Redmond?
Fils de pute
!”
The Frenchman cursed, and moved to the window, aiming his revolver. “Very well,
monsieur
, you shall share your brother’s fate after all.”

Catherine could hear the pounding hoofbeats
nearing, and saw that the Frenchman was ignoring her for the moment. As Lefanu
seemed to find his target, she used all her strength to swing her legs up and
kick him hard in the back!

Lefanu let out a grunt of pain... and
Catherine saw the gun fly from his hand, out the window of the coach!

“You miserable slut!” he bellowed.
Catherine screamed into her gag as he once more seized her by the hair,
dragging her to the window, and producing a knife from his belt.

“I'll slit her throat!” he called out,
loud enough to be heard over the two sets of thrumming hooves. “Back off and
let us go!”

Catherine tried to somehow deflect the
knife as she had the pistol, but it was no use: her bonds, and Lefanu's grip in
her hair, rendered her helpless. She tried to look through the window for
Charles, to scream a warning through her gag. At first, she saw nothing but
countryside flashing past them. Then came the sound of Orion's hoofbeats...
were they getting farther away?
Oh, God, he can't leave me!

Lefanu noticed it too, and laughed as
he craned his neck to get a better view. Catherine did the same... and it was
she who first realized that Orion was trotting away with an empty saddle!

It only took Lefanu an additional few
seconds to recognize the fact... but in that instant, a pair of worn leather
boots had flown in through the window of the brougham and crashed into Lefanu’s
chest, as Charles swung himself down from the roof and into the cab.

“
Pig!
” Lefanu snarled. He
released his hold on Catherine’s hair as he used one hand to grapple with
Charles, while the other tried to bring the knife to bear.

The brougham rocked furiously, the
driver still speeding them along, not realizing that they were no longer being
chased. As Charles and Lefanu wrestled, neither seeming to get the upper hand,
Lefanu's knife glittering wickedly; it caught the coachman’s attention so that,
reflexively, he flailed wildly with his crop, trying to slash backwards through
the window to aid Lefanu.

Catherine saw her chance, and though it
meant once more bringing all her weight to bear on her nearly paralyzed arms,
she threw herself onto her back, legs in the air, and closed her legs
together, catching the man's riding crop between the soles of her bare feet,
its loop now taut about his wrist. She grunted into her gag, and pulled with
all her strength.

“Wha—
ahhhhh
!” She was rewarded
with the man’s confused cry as he unbalanced and pitched off the driver’s seat
to tumble to the side of the road. From there, it was but seconds before the
confused horse changed direction wildly, and Catherine felt heaven and earth
change places as the coach teetered on its wheels, then came crashing to the
ground with a horrible grinding din.

After a few breathless moments,
Catherine forced herself to her feet, leaning up against the teetering wall of
the coach.

The opposite door of the brougham had
been torn off in the crash, and Catherine’s blood froze at the tangle of arms
and legs that lay, unmoving, on the ground. Heedless of the pain from her bonds,
of the gag that threatened to choke her, she took one terrified step forward...
and saw a figure begin to stir. Her heart leapt as Charles Redmond, his face
streaked with blood from a gash on his forehead, extricated himself from the
unconscious heap that was Colonel Lefanu, and came towards her.

"Charles!" Though the
syllable was muffled nonsense issuing from her cruelly gagged mouth, she called
his name again and again. She staggered towards him, and Charles reached his
hands to pull down her gag, but she ignored them, and plunged forward, burying
her face in his chest, letting huge racking sobs shake her bound form. Let him
untie her later... for now, all she wanted was to hide in his arms, for the
first time since she could remember, feeling truly safe.

**********

“And how fare our patients?”

Catherine looked
up from her steaming cup of broth to see Charles, his forehead decorated with a
large sticking-plaster, standing in the doorway, coat in hand.

"Mister Redmond!" Elizabeth
Cathcart squealed, as she brought a bowl of the broth to her brother, propped
up in the chair next to Catherine's, his chest heavily bandaged. "Oh, I'm
sorry—Your Lordship!"

Charles waved it away. "Still some
papers to sign, yet, Miss Cathcart... and anyway, I hope I shall always be
simple Charles to the two friends who rescued my darling Catherine."

"Sorry I rather hashed it,"
Major Cathcart grumbled, but Charles cut him off.

"Nonsense. You prevented that
monster from taking advantage of a helpless young woman... I daresay you've
never fought a more worthwhile battle."

"Aye, well, I only wish I believed
that we'd see the swine swing for it."

"You mean our courts won't punish
him?" Catherine was aghast. “Even after…?”

"He has highly-placed friends in
his government," Charles agreed, “so he won’t be hanged, though likely
deported. On the other hand, most Frenchmen I've met tend toward the gallant
where women are concerned, and would be appalled by the misuse he intended of
you. My guess is that after word of his conduct gets around, he would be hard
put to find friends, even in Paris."

"Enough talk of that man for
now!" Elizabeth Cathcart admonished.

"Just as you say," smiled
Charles. "But you’ve not answered my question— are the patients
well?"

Catherine remembered the wave of relief
that had washed over her at the discovery that Major Cathcart’s wound had been
less than fatal. She had refused, though, to allow him to be moved until he was
healed, so the Cathcarts had been her guests for the past week; Elizabeth
making herself more than useful as nursemaid.

“The doctor says I’ve suffered no
permanent damage,” she smiled. “Just a few days’ rest and I’ll be fine.” She
snuggled herself down once more into the welcoming warmth of her dressing gown.

“Glad to hear it!” Charles gave a broad
wink to Major Cathcart. “Wouldn’t want to have to carry you down the aisle in a
sling!”

Catherine blushed, then frowned as she
remembered the terrible price that her freedom to marry Charles had cost.

“Poor Philip,” she sighed. “I don’t
suppose there was anything I could have done, but it all seemed so…” Her voice
trailed off and she looked up at Charles. “Lefanu will pay for it?”

“He will: in disgrace and deportation,
if nothing else. As badly as my brother behaved toward us both, he still
deserved justice. And I will see that he gets it. And to begin that process,”
Charles buttoned his coat, “it’s off to town for my deposition.” He bent down
and placed a gentle kiss on Catherine’s cheek; she found herself counting the hours
until their union might permit him to take far greater liberties. “When I
return tomorrow, I expect to see that wedding guest list finished!” He kissed
her once more, and paused to bid good-bye to the Cathcarts.

“Can I bring you anything?” Elizabeth
Cathcart was hovering over Catherine. "I see you’ve finished the books I
brought— might I get you some more?"

“Well…” Catherine paused, and then
allowed a broad smile to spread across her face. “If your library has any
thrilling mysteries, I should much enjoy escaping into one.”

“Thrills?” Miss Cathcart laughed, but
her puzzlement was genuine. “Are you certain you’ve not had enough of those?”

“Just make sure you find one where the
heroine is borne helplessly away into the night, in the arms of a dark stranger
on a big black horse.” She smiled to see Charles actually blushing. "I
promise THAT is a story I’ll never get tired of!”

The End