Gingerbread Bride

Chapter Seven

Mary entered the bedroom she had commandeered on Rick's behalf, her brow furrowed with concern.

"The doctor thinks the leg is just bruised," Rick told her, "and I have done no further damage."

Her face cleared, and she rewarded him with a beaming smile.

"Was the post boy hurt?" he asked. He had heard Mary marshalling the troops when they arrived at the farmhouse: bargaining with the farmer's wife for bedchambers, sending the farmer's son galloping for a doctor from the nearby town, and instructing others to go back along the road to hunt for the post boy.

"They did not find him. I cannot understand why he did not follow after the horses. Do you think he was confused?"

"Perhaps. Perhaps he went for the constables."

"Yes. You said that some people threw rocks, deliberately frightened the horses. Do you think they meant to kill us, Rick?"

Rick avoided a direct answer. "When you and Polly go on to the inn, make sure you take some of the farmer's men to protect you."

"Go?" Mary put a hand on each hip and frowned. "We are going nowhere until you are fit to travel. Did you think we would leave you? Besides, I have told the farmer's wife you are my brother. A fine sister I would be to leave while you are bedridden!"

"But, Mary..."

"No, Rick, I will not leave you." She gave a decisive nod, her lips firmly pressed together. He sank back against the pillows, too tired and sore to fight her. At least she had claimed to be his sister, which should be some sort of protection to her reputation.

Her stubborn glare dissolved into concern.

"Oh, Rick, here I am brangling with you when you have been injured on my account. No more. I will not leave, but nor will I bother you with arguments."

She made sure he could reach the glass on the bedside table, plumped his pillows, and straightened his blankets. "By the way, our name is Reid, as it was that night on the way to Haslemere. You are Lieutenant Rick Reid, and I am Mary Reid. I hope you do not mind?"

Good girl. She had thought of everything. With a false name, the fiction they were brother and sister, and her maid to keep her company, she should come out of this with an unscathed reputation. If ever she accepted his suit, he wanted it to be her choice, not something she was forced to do.

The thought startled him awake. Was he courting Mary Pritchard? It seemed he was, the decision made without him knowing it and firmly lodged in his mind. He settled himself more comfortably, his leg now just a dull ache, and fell asleep wearing a smile.

****

The following morning, Mary sent a message to the posting inn, telling them what had happened and asking for a postilion to present himself, so they could continue their journey.

Rick insisted he had slept and was well enough to travel, though his heavy-lidded eyes suggested an untruth. He insisted on dressing, the farmer's son acting valet, and came down to breakfast, white under his tan and moving stiffly, but refusing to acknowledge weakness.

The postilion was slow arriving, but by mid-morning, they were all in the post-chaise, Rick and Mary sharing the bench seat while Polly sat on a small seat that folded down from the front wall.

Polly was shy at first, but soon the three of them were chatting away, Mary just as enthralled by Polly's and Rick's tales of growing up in England as Polly was by Rick's and Mary's stories of their journeys and the places they'd seen.