The Marriage Rescue. Joanna Johnson
the rich darkness of her eyes, a fact that did not escape him. ‘You seem unwell. Won’t you please sit down and I—?’
‘There’s no time!’ Selina burst out.
She was wringing her hands, and Edward had to fight the unwelcome urge to take them in his own and hold them still.
‘Please, Mr Fulbrooke, come with me at once! You said you’d be a friend to me, and that your word was your law—I need you to prove it!’
Edward gazed down at her. He had been right; something truly terrible had occurred. There could be no other explanation for her coming to him, and in such a state of obvious distress.
‘You must try to calm yourself.’ He spoke with such firmness that Selina’s agitation seemed to check a little. ‘I will, of course, do anything within my power to help you, but first you must explain to me the particulars.’
Selina took a deep breath and clenched her hands into fists. Behind her, Edward caught sight of the below-stairs maids peeping from the servants’ corridor, their eyes wide with curiosity.
‘Evans. Would you please ensure the maids return to their beds and tell Greene to saddle my horse immediately? I have a feeling I’ll be going out, and I’m not sure when I shall return.’
Selina glanced across at Edward, riding next to her on his sleek thoroughbred mare. Even in the silvery moonlight she could see his sharp jaw was tightly clenched as he bent low over his horse’s neck, urging her on at full speed. She swallowed. Even at this pace they might still be too late.
At that first cry Selina had vaulted from her bunk and thrown on her clothes. Something within her had known what was happening even before the woman had stumbled up the steps of her caravan and hammered on the door, shouting out what she had seen and moaning in fear.
‘They’re coming! They’re coming for us! What will we do? How can we defend ourselves?’
‘We can’t.’ Zillah had stumped the short length of the cabin, unbolted the split door of the vardo and taken the wailing woman outside firmly by the shoulders. ‘The only hope we have of surviving this is to lock ourselves in and pray for a miracle.’
‘Is that all?’ The woman had stared at Zillah, and Selina had seen the horror in her eyes. ‘Is that all we can do?’
‘Yes. With the men away we have no protectors. We don’t even have any tools with which to arm ourselves—curse our foolishness! We should have planned for this.’
In the dim light Zillah had looked haggard with fear, and for the first time in her life Selina realised her grandmother was afraid. The knowledge had shaken her to the core. If weathered, unflappable Zillah was frightened, their situation must be every bit as bad as Selina feared.
‘We bolt our doors and we pray.’
‘And if they break down our doors? What then?’
Zillah closed her eyes. ‘Then we try to save the children. Whatever the cost.’
That was when they’d heard it: men’s voices, perhaps ten in all, punctuated by the excited baying of a pack of hounds. The woman had paled and fled back to her caravan, to drive home the heavy bolt across her door and gather her children round her, as though there was something she could do to keep them safe.
‘So this is where you’re hiding, is it?’
‘Did you think we wouldn’t find you, child-stealer?’
Selina’s blood had run cold. She had known those voices—Harris and Milton, Edward Fulbrooke had called them. She’d remembered their threats, and her stomach had begun to knot in animalistic terror.
‘We’ve brought some friends with us. Why don’t you come out and meet them? Such a shame you ran from us before—if you hadn’t we wouldn’t have needed to come and find you...’
Selina’s heart slammed into her ribs now, as she and Edward rode onwards. They were so close. Was there a chance they would get there in time? She imagined the children, cowering behind their shaking mothers as the sound of the men’s mocking laughter echoed around the camp and heavy clubs began to whistle towards shuttered windows—
She gasped for air. No. She couldn’t allow herself to think like that. If she went to pieces how would Edward find the camp? She had to stay strong and do whatever it took to protect her people. She had already taken the biggest risk, in the name of salvation.
Zillah had stared at her, eyes wide with horror. ‘What? What did you say?’
‘You said yourself—we need a miracle!’
‘That would be no miracle, girl, only madness!’ Zillah had backed away from her. ‘You would go to them for help? Our enemies?’
‘What choice do we have?’ Selina cried. ‘He gave me his word; I mean to test it!’
‘But, Lina—’
‘This is all my doing. I’m the only one with even the smallest hope of getting us out of this unscathed.’ Selina had grasped both of Zillah’s hands in her own and felt them tremble. ‘Do you think I would go if there was any other way? You know I would not. You know I don’t make this decision lightly.’
From outside the caravan both women had heard a fresh scream, followed by a bray of boorish laughter.
‘Grandmother, please. I have to try.’
Zillah had peered up at her, an unreadable expression in her ebony eyes, and given a shuddering sigh. ‘Your mother wouldn’t want this, Selina.’
‘Perhaps. But I know she wouldn’t want anyone getting hurt if I had a chance to protect them.’
She’d slipped from the caravan and out into the meadow. Keeping to the shadows, she’d called softly to Djali and been up onto his back and gone from the camp before anybody could stop her.
She felt Edward’s eyes upon her, although she didn’t dare turn her head to look. She’d been grateful when he’d saddled up and followed her—more grateful than he would ever know—and amazed, too. She hadn’t really expected him to keep his word, but to try had been her only option. What had been the real chances that an upper-class gentleman would honour his promise to a Roma?
She had obviously underestimated him in that moment, but that didn’t mean she trusted him. The canker of suspicion ran too deep, and even now Selina had the unpleasant feeling of having jumped from the frying pan into the fire.
Even the horror of her current circumstances hadn’t managed to completely obliterate her disloyal senses, however. A furtive glance towards him was like a swift punch in the guts. Once again she was assailed by the handsomeness of his face and the powerfully masculine frame of his body, and she felt her throat contract as she caught a glimpse of a tantalising expanse of toned chest: Edward’s shirt had apparently been thrown on in great haste, with a few buttons left unfastened. There was a smattering of hair there, far darker than the gold on his head—fascinatingly so, in fact...
Selina wrenched her eyes away before he could turn and catch her looking. Even more mortifying than she ever would have believed was the realisation that she was enjoying the sight of him improperly dressed. It caused her great agitation, and her cheeks were flushed with both shame and guilt as she rode next to him in pained silence. Shame for appreciating such a trivial thing at such a time, and guilt at being appreciative of such a man at any time whatsoever.
Her instinctive attraction to Edward seemed to be tightening its grip on her, not loosening as she had hoped, and her grip on Djali’s reins tightened likewise at the thought.
‘Are we getting close?’
Selina