Patricia Veryan - [Sanguinet Saga 05] - Nanette (23 page)

"Good God!" he exclaimed, grabbing her shoulders and shaking
her hard. "Here's fine language for a gentlewoman! I should scrub out
your naughty mouth!"

"Do you not remove your lecherous hands from my body in this
very instant, I shall scream bloody murder!"

A horse was approaching—and at a rapid trot. Harry cast an
unhappy glance to the trees at the curve of the lane and stepped back.

"Go!" snarled Nanette. "Climb into your beastly little cart,
with your ugly coat and your great clodhopping shoes, and take yourself
off! Go!"

Two boys sauntered toward them, grinning openly. Harry felt a
savage urge to rap their loutish heads together. He bent a fierce glare
upon them, and they fled towards the oncoming rider. Following their
progress, he grumbled, "Then what
will
you do?"

"For your information, sir. the last proposal I received was
delivered in a palace, with the gentleman down on
both
knees before me! And there are plenty more where that came from, so
spare me your sympathy, I do entreat!"

Flushing partly because of her blazing scorn and partly
because of an unhappy feeling it was well-justified, he muttered,
"Lord, what a whisker! One of these days your—" He interrupted himself
to gasp a disbelieving, "Nerina!"

The Beauty, mounted on a bay mare, waved agitatedly as she
rode toward them.

"Go!" repeated Nanette, one outstretched arm pointing
dramatically to the west. "You have done what you wished, for she is
here to take me back, I've no doubt; and if I must watch you melt all
over her silliness again, I shall cast up my accounts!"

"Shrew . . !" he grated. "Why must you use such crude
expressions?"

"To describe crude situations! Now begone, sir—else I shall
tell your sainted Goddess what manner of
roue
you
really
are!"

With a fuming glare Harry turned from her, swung into the
cart, and slapped the reins against the neck of the drowsing Mr. Fox.
"I hope you
do
marry your uncle!" he snarled. "It
would serve you right to have a nursery full of nieces and nephews for
your children!"

Having uttered the which rather muddled insult, he guided the
little donkey away without a backward glance.

A mild breeze ruffled Harry's thick locks, and the sun shone
benevolently upon him. A meadowlark soared upward, the clear notes of
his song rippling through the peace of this beautiful spring afternoon.
And aware of none of these blessings, Harry glared at Mr. Fox's ears,
one sticking proudly upright through the brim of his old beaver, the
other drooping at half mast.

What a shrew! What a bad-tempered, foul-mouthed, wretchedly
ungrateful little baggage! He touched his still-tingling cheek. A fine
reaction to the first offer he'd ever made! He'd likely have the devil
of a bruise. Gad, but she'd dealt him a leveller! And to think he'd
almost saddled himself with the vixen! What he should have done, of
course, was to have swung her across his knee there and then and
paddled her derriere! But recalling that Lady Nerina had seemed upset,
he slowed the cart and glanced back uneasily. "… a gushy-eyed,
half-blind, maggot-witted chawbacon . . !" Scowling, he turned around
and jiggled the reins resolutely. Gushy-eyed, indeed! Lieutenant Fowler
had been gushy-eyed over that little ladybird in Valencia. A revolting
demonstration! He and Bolster had laughed themselves sick over it. Had
he
really
looked like that? "I'll marry my uncle!
And be dashed to you!" He chuckled despite himself. She'd do it, too,
blasted little spitfire! But that had been a good one he'd dealt her in
return… a nursery full of nieces and nephews. The amusement faded from
his eyes, for the thought of Nanette as a mother brought with it the
awareness that she would be superb in the role. He could all but
picture her with head tenderly downbent over some tiny scrap of
humanity. Why that should make him feel so damnably miserable he could
not imagine; but, by God, she wasn't going to be pushed into a marriage
she didn't want!

He turned Mr. Fox and started back even as two boys tore
around the bend of the lane and galloped towards him. They were the
same two who had passed earlier, and instead of continuing on their
way, they detoured widely across the field, their white, scared faces
very plainly betraying a reluctance to encounter him. Harry slapped the
reins against the donkey's neck and urged him to "giddap!", but to no
avail. Apprehension escalated into fear, and the placid trot became
unendurable. He leapt from the cart and began to run. Behind him then
there arose an alarming rattling and a distressed braying. Poor Mr. Fox
was worrying again…

Harry rounded the bend as a piercing shriek rent the air.
Nerina's bay mare was bolting towards the village, and at first he
thought she had been thrown; but his frantic gaze discovered her
standing by the low-barred fence with closed eyes and both hands
pressed to her mouth. Samuel Chatham was beside her, and he turned as
Harry ran up and waved with tremulous urgency. Lady Nerina raised a
pale countenance and moaned, "Thank
beaten
you
are come! Oh, why does she do such rash things?"

"Them wicked boys throwed me hammer over the fence, S' Harry,"
piped Mr. Chatham. "And the pretty little lady goed t'get it fer I…"

Was
that
all . . ! A sigh of relief
escaped Harry. And then he saw Nanette standing in the middle of the
field and, seeing also the reason for her frozen immobility, for a
split second could not breathe.

"If only…" sobbed Lady Nerina, "her shawl was not…
red
!"

"A fine Welsh bull, bean't he? wheezed Chatham. "Willyum Brown
paid a purty penny fo'un. But so
mean
natured,
'ee do be…"

He was also the biggest, blackest, and most muscular bull
Harry had ever seen, with horns that looked a yard long as he stood
there, tossing his massive head and pawing at the earth with one
impatient hoof. Once, Harry had attended a bullfight in Madrid. The
sport had not appealed to him, especially when he'd seen the
unfortunate horse of a picador impaled on the bull's horns. He could
still remember how it had screamed…

He had cleared the fence and was running even as the thoughts
raced through his mind, but the bull had also started forward. "
Move
!"
he roared. Nanette turned to him. He had a brief impression of huge
eyes dark with terror and, beyond the chalk white face, a charging
monster. He reached the girl a few seconds ahead of the bull, tore the
shawl away, thrust her violently to the side, waved the shawl at the
oncoming fury, and ran for his life. That he had succeeded in
distracting the brute was evidenced by the nightmare of sound that was
all about him: an explosive snorting of such power as to freeze the
heart, a thunder of hooves with fourteen hundred pounds of power and
muscle behind them. Harry waited until the last possible instant, then
launched himself in a frantic dive to the side. A mighty shape brushed
past him. He was down and rolling in the din, but regained his feet in
a lithe spring. The bull was swinging about, midway between him and
escape. Without waiting for those hot little eyes to discover him,
Harry raced back the way he had come. He had never dreamed he could
move so fast. He glimpsed Nanette clambering over the fence and fairly
shot towards her. Again that petrifying thunder of hooves—gaining on
him with every stride. The ground vibrated to the fearsome pursuit, and
the fence looked miles away. "Too close!" he thought, and angled
desperately to the side. A razor-sharp horn that would certainly have
sliced into his back brushed his right sleeve. A deafening bellow
escaped the infuriated animal, echoed distantly by a grievous braying.
His lungs bursting, Harry sprinted frenziedly. In mere seconds he could
again all but fee! the snorting explosive breathing and sensed that
death was inches from him. He essayed a mighty burst of speed and flung
himself at the fence, his left hand grabbing the top rail as he vaulted
into the air. A maddened snorting. An earth-shaking gallop. A dark
shape lunging at him. Something thudded against his forearm—but he was
clear! The fence shook and creaked as the bull rammed it in a bellowing
frustration. Sprawled on hands and knees in the ditch, his head
hanging, Harry sobbed for breath and prayed numbly that the fence would
hold. The bull snorted fiercely, then lost interest and trotted away.

"Harry!
Hurry
!" Frantic hands were
tearing at him. Nanette, on her knees also, was bending to peer into
his contorted face. "
Mon Dieu
! Are you all right?"

"Sufficiently so…" he gasped, "to give you… the spanking you
warrant!"

With a stifled sob, she threw her arms about his neck,
murmuring a heartfelt, "Thank you! My brave one! Thank you!"

"Silly… chit…" panted Harry. "Do not—get so up… in the boughs…"

"Nanette!" Lady Nerina trod towards them, regarding her
friend's unconventional attitude with shocked eyes.

Nanette stood and, flushing, said a defiant, "Well, he saved
my life!"

"And most gallantly," acknowledged the Beauty, bestowing a
dazzling smile on the impromptu matador. Her eyes were a blue stain in
her exquisite face; the mellow sunlight turned her clustered curls to
spun gold, and the white plume of her riding hat, curling beside her
dewy cheek, seemed to emphasize the perfection of her skin. Befuddled,
Harry eased into a sitting position and, leaning back on his hands,
gasped, "It was a pretty good run… if I do say so. But a bit… too
close… for comfort!"

"
Much
too close!" agreed Lady Nerina,
watching him admiringly. "Oh, Nanette! Why do you do such madcap
things? Sir Harry might have been killed!"

Nanette bowed her head and was, for once, speechless.

"She only sought to help Mr. Chatham… ma'am," Harry protested.

Nanette's lip was quivering, and there was the glitter of
tears in her eyes as she looked beseechingly from one to the other.
"The poor old gentleman was so upset, you see. I did not dream the bull
was in there, or… Oh, Harry! If you had been—" She broke off and he
grinned at her, but she tossed her head away. "Do not make excuses for
me! I am just… a stupid! I do it all the time, do I not, Nerina?"

"Yes, truly," sighed my lady. "Nanette is always in a taking
about something or other, and it is quite impossible to avoid being
drawn into her predicaments. Only yesterday I was happily ensconced in
my sister's lovely old house. Today, not only must I endure that awful
village where the people stare at one so, and the inn is so
primitive
,
but I have again risked Papa's displeasure by riding out alone, for I
dared not bring my groom to carry tales." Her brow furrowed
deliciously. "It is wicked to disobey one's parents. And yet—one must
be loyal to one's friends. What a dreadful dilemma. If only one…"

Despite the appeal of that silvery voice, Harry's attention
wandered. He was commencing to feel odd and to suspect all was not well
with him—a suspicion verified by Mr. Chatham's piping interruption.
"Ye'd best stop all the chit-chat, ma'am, and tie up S'Harry's arm."

Harry looked down to find crimson streaking his left hand.
"Deuce take it all," he said wryly. "Didn't run quite fast enough at
that!"

"Idiotish man!" Nanette had paled. "Take off your coat! No—do
not get up!" She helped him ease the torn left sleeve free while
scolding, "Are you
so
infatuated you dared not
interrupt her but sat there and stoically bled like… like a fountain?
Give me now your little knife."

Scarlet with embarrassment, Harry complied. "I was not being
in the least stoical. I knew the brute had hit me, but I thought it was
with his confounded snout. I'd no idea the horn caught me. And if you
would but learn, my girl, to—" He checked, flinching, as she swung his
wrist gently upwards.

"
Tiens
!" she gulped.

The underarm was deeply gashed between elbow and wrist, and
bleeding profusely. Harry flashed a quick glance at Nanette's white
face and said calmly, "Well, he really ripped me up, didn't he?"

"You need not be so valiant," she responded, her voice only
slightly uneven. "I have not the intention to faint this time."

"
'The road to hell'," he quoted, " 'is
paved with good intentions…"

She returned his smile and began to gingerly peel the shirt
away, while requesting Lady Nerina to run to the cart and find a clean
neckcloth for bandaging.

"Ye got t'be careful o'horn wounds," said Chatham
knowledgeably, peering over Harry's shoulder. "It mayn't hurt much now
but give it a hour. Say a half hour. Ah—does ye see the bone there,
miss?"

Nanette turned even whiter and nodded. Harry nerved himself
and clamped his right hand firmly around the gash, holding it closed.
Nanette cringed but immediately pressed a piece of the ripped shirt
sleeve against the part of the cut his hand could not encompass. He
made no sound, but she saw his eyes flicker and, aching with sympathy,
exclaimed, "Oh! That must have hurt dreadfully!"

"No," he lied. "Not—too… but then had to stop, breath eluding
him.

Nanette whipped her gaze to Lady Nerina. The Beauty stood
motionless, with head averted and eyes tight shut. "Good God!" raged
Nanette. "What are you
doing
? The neckcloth!
Quickly! Poor Harry is bleeding horribly!"

My lady pressed a hand to her mouth. "
Must
you talk about it?" she choked. "You are making me… ill…"

"If you dare to faint—I shall slap you!" Nanette started up,
only to jump back as blood at once pulsed from the wound. "Oh, lud! Go
at once, you silly girl!"

Nerina tottered off, sobbing miserably that if she caught so
much as a glimpse of Sir Harry's injury she was sure to be sick.
Nanette began to mutter beneath her breath, and when at last Nerina
crept haltingly towards them, reached out and said a fierce, "Give it
me! Hurry!"