A Most Mysterious Gentleman (#1 Sweet Nineteenth Series) VERY SLOW UPDATES

AMMG ~19~

Rosalie was very aware of how uncomfortable and unbalanced she was in the saddle with her crippled body, but her thirst for adventure and to get her fiancee back was proving to be more important.

She trotted up to the carriage bouncing uncomfortably, attempting to recognize the driver's stony wrinkled face. She saw no emotion flit across his face as he stared openly, coldly, at her from underneath his hat. He nodded not once, there was no sign of respect for a high born lady of society.

 She stared hard at him, willing him to flinch, to bow his head. Nothing. She ingnored him digust at his actions. 

She slowed down the mare and lowered her head to peer into the carriage. Unfortunately, the shining sun of the day created nothing but reflections on the glass, so she could not see who was in it. All she could see was her own face and the clouds in the sky behind her head.

She eased herself off the saddle slowly, dropping onto to her one good leg and, whilst rearranging her skirts, went to knock on the window.

She wouldn't admit to being scared, but it did worry her how no-one had made an effort to reveal themselves to her. She was an injured lady however, surely no-one would dare harm her?

A frightened squeal from Francesca made her turn. In the seconds of turning she heard the door squeak open and felt large, yet fairly weak hands grip her shoulders and mouth. 

She struggled flailing her arms to get rid of her attacker. Two large brutes of men having appeared round the other side of the carriage, scowling and bald held the mare, pulling hard on the reins as she reared up, attempting to escape , her fear showing in her white eyes and rigid muscles.

Rosalie tried biting the hand at her mouth ignoring the foul taste and the small drops of blood on her tongue, and the man's gasp just stimulated her need to escape the brutes.

I will not be a pathetic woman! Fight- I must fight!

With these encouraging thoughts she punched, fighting for her life, struggling to keep her balance so holding on to a sleeve of the man.

Punch to the groin, punch to the abdomen. Headbutt, claw.

She was letting her fear rule her actions and gradually she could feel the hold loosening which caused an even stronger reaction.

A putrid breath next to her ear spoke. "You are my prisoner."

She stopped and attempted to turn. "Willborough? What on earth are you doing?"

He pulled her closer, his vile stench overcoming her nostrils as she gagged. "Is this a schoolboy prank?"

"No My Lady. You will become my wife soon."

She punched and flailed again, panic taking over her sense again, "No I will not, you evil little man. I am going to be Duchess of Richmond, my husband to be is the Duke of Richmond you fool! He will kill you, ruin you, put your body in the river, I don't care. Get off me!"

She saw in her vision one of the men slap her horse on the rump sending her galloping away.

Her heart sank. Now she really had no-one. Her Father wouldn't come looking for her anyway for at least a day as he was away looking for Henry.

As she struggled one of the other men grabbed her and shoved her to the floor, the task easily accomplished due to her imbalance. Her face was mushed into the dirt path and she screamed as little bits of dust and dirt got into her eyes, blinking rapidly to try to get rid of the pain, eyes streaming. She had to breathe in the dust and she coughed hard as she felt it absorb into her lungs. 

Rope was bound around her wrists an oddly fashioned knot which dug into her flesh, a gag put on when she tried to scream again, even though she knew no-one would hear her.

It tasted disgusting, of ale, bad breath and numerous other things she didn't like to dwell on.

She felt one of the men go to put rope around her leg, but she heard the Marquess laugh and say something about how she was a cripple, she wasn't about to run away.

She resolved herself. She could manage with this injury she was sure. She'd had enough practice.

Four arms lifted her up and threw her into the carriage none-too-gently.

If I stay quiet, I could catch them unawares perhaps, like Marianne in my favourite novel.

And so she waited.