Navy’s coach approaching. He ducked his head as the secretary peered out the window at him.
Catherine did not even notice. “I don’t think so.”
Quint was becoming desperate. Another block, and they would reach the heart of Mayfair. Not to mention, it was later than he’d first thought. The streets were already beginning to crowd. He tried one last attempt at reason. “Catherine, I’m going to ask one more time.” He spurred his horse forward so that it blocked her path. “I’m begging you,” he said, choking on the words as though they were poison. “Please turn back.”
She barely glanced up at him, stepped to the right, and walked straight by the horse, dragging the bedsheets in the dirt after her.
That was it. Quint was a reasonable man, but he had his limits. The moment she was on his opposite side, he leaned down, caught her by the arm, and swept her over the horse on her belly in front of him.
As he expected, she did not go willingly, she fought him, losing a good portion of the bedclothes in the process, but he was able to throw one sheet over her. Then it was just a matter of holding her down and starting for home.
The horse he rode was a gentle mare, and Quint thanked God for that blessing. He could not have controlled a nervous horse and held on to Catherine. He had one arm clamped firmly on her bottom, which stuck up on one side. Her head hung down on the other, her long black hair trailing on the ground.
“Let go of me!” She squirmed and swiped at him before grabbing on to his leg again for fear of falling.
“Hold on, you silly chit. We’re almost there.”
That statement only elicited another round of squirming and fighting until he finally grabbed her around the waist and yelled, “Unless you want me to lift this sheet, and swat your bare bottom right here, sit still!”
Fortunately, that did the trick. She stopped fighting and lay stiffly on the horse’s back. Unfortunately, he’d yelled the threat at the top of his voice, and people on the street were now staring at him. Not that they hadn’t been before, but somehow he’d attracted a crowd following him, and as soon as he turned up to his town house, the whole city would have his name on its lips.
Quint decided there were two ways to deal with the situation. One, he could cringe, run, and hide inside the house.
Two, he could make the best of it. People would talk no matter what, but his actions might influence what they said.
At his front walk, he slowed his horse and tossed the reins to one of his footmen. Then, with a wave to the crowd, he gathered Catherine and her sheet up. He pulled her off the horse, tossed her over his shoulder, and, smiling, marched into the house.
Chapter 9
C atherine closed her eyes. All the blood was rushing to her head, and she felt so dizzy she could not have protested had she wanted to. The horrible politician bounced her into the house and up the stairs. Catherine was almost glad she had not eaten anything in two days. If she had, she would surely have lost it.
Finally, he ceased jouncing her up flights of stairs, and she opened one eye to see the red carpets of the second-floor hallway. He was taking her back to the bedroom. This was it. Now, he would beat her and rape her. After the way she’d acted, she knew she had it coming.
But instead of opening the last door of the hallway, the one she knew led to his room, he stoppedshort and walked into another room. This one was done in pastels, all muted blues and lavenders. At least she thought it was before her world spun violently, and she was dropped unceremoniously on a bed.
Immediately, she curled into a protective ball, covering her face and head. But she also fisted her hands. He might get in the first blow, but he wouldn’t have the chance at another.
Nothing happened. Catherine cracked one eye open.
Valentine was standing over her, hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. “Sorry I had to do that.”
Catherine frowned
Catherine did not even notice. “I don’t think so.”
Quint was becoming desperate. Another block, and they would reach the heart of Mayfair. Not to mention, it was later than he’d first thought. The streets were already beginning to crowd. He tried one last attempt at reason. “Catherine, I’m going to ask one more time.” He spurred his horse forward so that it blocked her path. “I’m begging you,” he said, choking on the words as though they were poison. “Please turn back.”
She barely glanced up at him, stepped to the right, and walked straight by the horse, dragging the bedsheets in the dirt after her.
That was it. Quint was a reasonable man, but he had his limits. The moment she was on his opposite side, he leaned down, caught her by the arm, and swept her over the horse on her belly in front of him.
As he expected, she did not go willingly, she fought him, losing a good portion of the bedclothes in the process, but he was able to throw one sheet over her. Then it was just a matter of holding her down and starting for home.
The horse he rode was a gentle mare, and Quint thanked God for that blessing. He could not have controlled a nervous horse and held on to Catherine. He had one arm clamped firmly on her bottom, which stuck up on one side. Her head hung down on the other, her long black hair trailing on the ground.
“Let go of me!” She squirmed and swiped at him before grabbing on to his leg again for fear of falling.
“Hold on, you silly chit. We’re almost there.”
That statement only elicited another round of squirming and fighting until he finally grabbed her around the waist and yelled, “Unless you want me to lift this sheet, and swat your bare bottom right here, sit still!”
Fortunately, that did the trick. She stopped fighting and lay stiffly on the horse’s back. Unfortunately, he’d yelled the threat at the top of his voice, and people on the street were now staring at him. Not that they hadn’t been before, but somehow he’d attracted a crowd following him, and as soon as he turned up to his town house, the whole city would have his name on its lips.
Quint decided there were two ways to deal with the situation. One, he could cringe, run, and hide inside the house.
Two, he could make the best of it. People would talk no matter what, but his actions might influence what they said.
At his front walk, he slowed his horse and tossed the reins to one of his footmen. Then, with a wave to the crowd, he gathered Catherine and her sheet up. He pulled her off the horse, tossed her over his shoulder, and, smiling, marched into the house.
Chapter 9
C atherine closed her eyes. All the blood was rushing to her head, and she felt so dizzy she could not have protested had she wanted to. The horrible politician bounced her into the house and up the stairs. Catherine was almost glad she had not eaten anything in two days. If she had, she would surely have lost it.
Finally, he ceased jouncing her up flights of stairs, and she opened one eye to see the red carpets of the second-floor hallway. He was taking her back to the bedroom. This was it. Now, he would beat her and rape her. After the way she’d acted, she knew she had it coming.
But instead of opening the last door of the hallway, the one she knew led to his room, he stoppedshort and walked into another room. This one was done in pastels, all muted blues and lavenders. At least she thought it was before her world spun violently, and she was dropped unceremoniously on a bed.
Immediately, she curled into a protective ball, covering her face and head. But she also fisted her hands. He might get in the first blow, but he wouldn’t have the chance at another.
Nothing happened. Catherine cracked one eye open.
Valentine was standing over her, hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. “Sorry I had to do that.”
Catherine frowned
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