Claiming the Forbidden Bride

‘You saved my daughter’s life,’ she interrupted. ‘At considerable risk to your own.’

‘Your daughter? Angel?’

‘She’d fallen into a stream, and you rescued her. I’m not sure when or how you struck your head, but it was in the course of that rescue.’

‘She told you that? I thought.’

‘The girl who was supposed to be watching her witnessed it all. You still don’t remember?’

A furrow appeared between his brows as if he were trying to. Finally he shook his head.

‘None of it. I remember riding out that morning, revelling in the freedom of being in the saddle, and then… I remember being placed on a cart. At least I think I do. That may have been something else—’ Again he hesitated.

‘Something else?’

It seemed the Englishman, too, had things he’d chosen not to reveal, but she couldn’t imagine what. If he remembered the rescue, then in his situation, it would be to his advantage to lay claim to his heroic actions.

‘Another memory, perhaps. I remember thinking at the time that I was being carried from the field. And then. then I thought I must have dreamed it.’

‘The field? A battlefield? You were a soldier?’

‘Better or worse than being a lord? ‘The amusement was back.

‘From my perspective? I suppose that would depend on whether or not you were a wealthy soldier.’

‘Another disappointment, I’m afraid. All the wealthy soldiers were lords. It takes a great deal of money to buy a commission these days.’ He spooned a bite of the porridge, blowing on it before he put it into his mouth.

‘Ah, well,’ she comforted as she watched him, ‘I suppose you’ll just have to share porridge with the rest of us then.’

‘And very good porridge it is, too. Thank you.’ He lifted the spoon in a small salute before he used it to secure another bite. ‘For this and everything else.’

‘I believe the weight of debt is still rather heavily in your favour, my lord. If porridge and a few decoctions can make payments on that balance, perhaps one day it may be paid in full.’

‘Consider it paid already. If what you say is true, then I’m glad I was at hand when your Angeline needed a rescuer.’ He looked up from the bowl, the green eyes serious now. ‘And very glad you were at hand when I needed one.’

‘At no risk to myself.’

His gaze left hers to survey the compound. Despite the fact that the normal morning activities were ongoing, more than one pair of eyes had been focused on the two of them.

The Englishman smiled and nodded a greeting to those who seemed interested in their conversation. As he did, most had the grace to turn their attentions back to the daily tasks at hand.

Andrash, who had helped carry the Englishman back to camp, lifted a hand in response. The ex-soldier responded in kind before he looked down at her.

‘At no cost to yourself?’

She laughed. ‘If you’re imagining that my position here is in jeopardy because I choose to take you in, you’re mistaken.’

‘At least one person objected rather strongly to your kindness. And, although I have no way to verify his claim, he said he had the authority to enforce his displeasure.’

He meant Stephano, Nadya realized. Given their proximity to the caravan when her half-brother had issued his ultimatum, she shouldn’t be surprised to find that her patient overheard them.

‘Is that why you’re up? Because you felt…threatened?’

‘I’m up because I felt well enough to try.’

‘And well enough to succeed, it seems. Congratulations.’

‘You may hold your applause until I can do more than sit in the sun.’

‘Granted, your bay will prove more of a challenge.’

‘My brother’s bay,’ he corrected softly.

There was some issue there. A rivalry? Or simple envy of the firstborn’s rights under English law?

‘Shall I ask Andrash to bring the gelding?’ She turned her head, seeking the smith, who had apparently found occupation in another area of the camp while they’d been talking.

‘Maybe I’ll check on him. Later, I think.’ He held the half-empty bowl down to her.

Although she noted the slight tremor in his fingers, she didn’t comment on it. ‘At your convenience, my lord. I assure you your brother’s horse will be here and well tended when you are ready for him.’

‘If you insist on a title, then major will do.’

‘Aren’t majors’ commissions purchased?’ she teased.

‘It happens mine was awarded. My previous ranks were purchased, however. By benefactors,’ he added when she cocked her head as if to challenge his denial of wealth. ‘My brother and my godfather, actually.’

‘That reminds me.’ She fished the paper and pencil stub out of her pocket, holding them up to him. As he took them, his fingers brushed hers. ‘So, Major…?’

‘Morgan. Rhys Morgan.’

‘How do you do, Major Morgan.’ She lowered her head as she had seen the ladies in the village do.

‘Better than yesterday, thank you.’

‘And not so well as tomorrow. That I can promise you. Don’t be impatient.’

He nodded, his eyes on hers.

After a moment, she deliberately broke the contact between them by looking down at the bowl he’d handed her. ‘We can do better than this for dinner.’

He shook his head. ‘You’d be surprised how grateful one can be for porridge.’

For some reason she believed him. Of course, as a soldier, he had undoubtedly known deprivation.

Now, however, he was back in England, where his kind wanted for nothing. Except, perhaps, the favours of a well-placed benefactor. Or of a Gypsy girl.

‘You didn’t tell me your name.’