A Ring For The Pregnant Debutante

‘Oooh...’ a soft voice moaned on top of him.

Thomas reached up and his hand met soft fabric. If he wasn’t much mistaken there was a woman lying on top of him, but he had no idea where she had come from.

‘Excuse me,’ he said in Italian eventually when the woman made no attempt to move. He almost laughed at the stiff formality of the words—even after three years of living abroad you still couldn’t remove his innate good manners.

There was some wriggling, then fingers digging into his ribcage as she manoeuvred herself upright. Thomas watched in a daze as the young woman ran her hands over her body as if checking for bumps and bruises, caressing her abdomen through the material of her dress.

‘Are you hurt?’ she asked eventually, once Thomas could see she was satisfied she had not injured herself in any obvious way. She spoke in Italian, but there was an accent that made him wonder if she was not native to this part of the world.

Testing out his theory, Thomas replied in English, ‘Just a little winded.’

‘You’re English.’

He could hear the note of fear in her voice and noticed how she begun to lean away from him as if he were about to do her harm.

‘Yes,’ he replied tersely. ‘Would you mind letting me up?’

‘Oh,’ the young woman said, mortification in her voice as she looked down and realised she was still straddling him. Quickly she stood, but as she transferred her weight to her left foot she cried out in pain. From his position on the ground Thomas saw her stumble and then come lurching back towards him. This time it was her elbow that caught him in the stomach and a slender knee in the groin area. For a moment Thomas felt the whole world blur with pain before he was back on the dusty country road with a woman on top of him.

‘I’m sorry,’ the young woman mumbled, too focused on her own pain to realise the extent of the damage she had inflicted on him.

Thomas just grunted, lying still until the ache had subsided, before gripping the young woman around the waist and firmly setting her on the road beside him.

Before deciding what to do next, he regarded the woman in front of him for a few moments. She was dusty and dishevelled, and at the moment her face was screwed up with pain, but if Thomas wasn’t much mistaken this was no common thief or intruder trying to escape the Di Mercurio property. She was too well dressed, her bearing and her speech too polished.

‘Why did you jump off the wall?’ Thomas asked.

Immediately he saw the young woman bristle.

‘I didn’t jump. I fell.’

‘Let me rephrase the question. Why were you climbing over the wall in the first place?’

‘That is none of your concern,’ she said primly.

Thomas watched her for a few seconds and then shrugged nonchalantly. He wasn’t about to browbeat the information from her, but she would tell him.

‘Would you like me to escort you back to the Di Mercurio villa, or fetch someone to come and get you?’ he asked lightly.

He actually saw the pallor bloom on her face as the blood drained away.

‘Please do not concern yourself,’ she said. ‘I’ll just get on my way and you can continue with your evening.’

‘You will need my help...’ he motioned to her left ankle ‘... I’d wager you won’t get far on your own.’

‘Truly, please do not let me detain you further,’ she said with exaggerated politeness. Thomas could see he was beginning to irk her, but found himself unable to stop with his goading. He was enjoying this interaction more than he had any for months now.

He looked on with interest as she tottered to her feet, grimaced and bit down forcibly on her lower lip, presumably to stop her crying out in pain as she tried to put weight on her left foot. Thomas’s concern turned to amusement as she began hopping down the road and he had to stop himself from laughing out loud.

‘I don’t think anyone has ever gone to such lengths to avoid my company before,’ he mused loudly as he pushed himself upright and began to stroll along beside her.

She didn’t even spare him a look, just hopped resolutely onwards.

‘I hope you didn’t need to be somewhere in a hurry. You’re rather slow at hopping.’ This did earn him a glance, but no conversation.

Suddenly she stopped, changed direction and hopped unsteadily to the side of the road. Thomas watched with interest as she hefted a heavy fallen branch from the ground and tested it as a makeshift crutch. It didn’t look that helpful.

‘So let me guess,’ he said as she staggered onwards. ‘You’re a disgraced maid and you stole the family silver.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

Two more steps, then she rested, looking back over her shoulder and appearing disappointed with how little progress they’d made.

‘You’re being forced to marry one of the unpleasant Di Mercurio boys and you’re fleeing on the eve of the wedding.’

‘That would be a very good reason to run,’ the young woman muttered under her breath.

‘I’ve got it,’ Thomas exclaimed. ‘They were going to offer you up as a ritual sacrifice to the devil.’

‘Why are you following me?’ she demanded.

‘I thought you might need some assistance.’

She stared at him with wide eyes and motioned to the nearly useless crutch. ‘You’re not providing any assistance so will you just leave me alone.’

‘I could provide you with assistance,’ Thomas said with a charming smile, ‘If you ask nicely. And tell me what you were doing climbing over the wall.’

She had a stubborn streak running through her, Thomas mused as she limped a few more paces with her head held high before relenting.

‘I was being held prisoner. Now, please will you help me?’

‘Well, that wasn’t the most gracious of pleas, but a gentleman can overlook these things.’ Thomas scooped her up into his arms, hiding a grin at her squeal of surprise and the initial stiffness of her body. ‘Where to, my lady?’

No reply was forthcoming and Thomas could see the thoughts tumbling through her head. For some reason she had felt she was being held prisoner by the well-to-do Di Mercurios and had manufactured her escape, but he would wager his entire inheritance that she hadn’t really planned beyond getting over the wall.

‘Maybe to the residence of the local magistrate so you could report your imprisonment?’ Thomas suggested, suppressing a smile as she tensed. ‘Or we could go straight to the governatore, the man in charge, seeing as they are such an influential family in the region.’

Still no reply from the woman in his arms.

‘What’s your name?’ he asked.

‘Miss Rosa Rothwell.’

‘Well, Rosa,’ he said, enjoying her scowl of indignation at his use of the overfamiliar form of address, ‘it is decision time. What’s the plan?’

‘I would be grateful if you would take me to a local pensione,’ she said decisively.

‘I don’t like to criticise a well-thought-out plan, but won’t the village guest house be the first place the Di Mercurios look for their runaway?’