The Marriage Rescue. Joanna Johnson

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      ‘We wouldn’t hesitate to teach them a lesson, sir. Be happy to do it.’

      ‘Yes, Milton. I think I quite catch your drift.’ The educated voice was cool—bordering on cold. ‘Let’s hope for everybody’s sake that the woman in question is far away by now.’

      ‘Yes, sir.’

      ‘I think we should all be on our way. Bid you good day, gents.’

      ‘Good day, sir.’

      The men moved off. Selina listened to them go: footsteps on damp earth, then the telltale jingle of their horses’ tack as they rode away, growing fainter and fainter until only the swaying creak of the forest remained.

      She exhaled, long and loud. She was safe. She’d ventured into the lion’s den and escaped by the skin of her teeth.

      ‘You can come down now, miss. It’s quite safe.’

      Selina froze. There was still someone down there!

      Her heart checked for the briefest of painful moments before slamming back into a pounding rhythm so hard she was sure the man standing below her must be able to hear it.

      She drew herself sharply against the oak’s knotted trunk, pressing herself closely to the bark. A quick look down through the leaves allowed her nothing more than a view of the back of the uncannily familiar fair-haired head, its owner resolutely positioned at the base of her tree.

      ‘I know you’re up there. Don’t be afraid. I won’t harm you.’

      Selina swallowed—a quick convulsion of her dry throat. Celebrating too soon. She was trapped. There was only one way down and he was guarding it; there was no way she could pass without being seen.

      ‘Please, miss. You have nothing to fear from me.’

      Selina’s pulse was racing as she registered his words. What kind of simpleton did he think she was? Surely that was exactly the sort of claim he would make.

      ‘Nothing to fear? You just hunted me for three miles like an animal—please excuse me if I don’t hop down at the click of your fingers.’

      There was a huff of laughter from below. ‘I understand why it may have appeared that way. I’d be more than happy to explain if you would just come down.’

      ‘I think not.’

      Peering down through the leaves once more, Selina trained her eyes on her captor’s blond curls. He hadn’t moved so much as an inch, blast him. She herself was beginning to feel the sharp texture of the bark digging into her skin, forcing her to shift her position, and she could have cursed aloud when the movement sent a rotten branch crashing down through the canopy.

      Hearing the sudden noise, the man whipped his head round, searching for the direction of the sound, and as his profile turned Selina saw the face of her tormentor clearly for the first time.

      It was as though she had been winded all over again.

      She knew him. Not by name—it hadn’t seemed the right time for formal introductions many years ago, when Selina had come across a strange boy in these very woods and held a pad of moss against his cheek to stem the flow of blood that had seeped between his fingers.

      How old had he been then? Perhaps twelve to Selina’s eight? He had been the first gentry boy she’d ever seen up close, and the rare combination of his hazel eyes and golden hair, so foreign to Selina’s childish mind, had burned itself into her memory. There could be no mistaking the fact that this man was the same person, and Selina felt a thrill of some unknown feeling tingle down the length of her spine as she watched him searching upwards, confusion rushing in to replace where moments previously she had felt only fear.

      He’s handsome. The thought came out of nowhere, taking her by surprise, and she shook her head slightly as if to clear it. Don’t be absurd, she admonished herself fiercely, although nothing could stop the slow creep of colour she knew was stealing over her cheeks as she took in his defined jaw, in turn well matched by a straight nose and a mouth just teetering on the brink of a smile, and she felt another dart of the same unexplained feeling lance through her.

      It was uncomfortably, unacceptably similar to the admiration she had felt once or twice before when confronted with an attractive man. On those occasions, however, she hadn’t felt her heart rate pick up speed, and neither had she felt such a disturbingly instinctive appreciation for the fine colour of his eyes. How this gentleman managed to affect her in such a powerfully unexpected way she had no clue, but she knew she didn’t like it.

      He was hunting through the branches in earnest now, and Selina forced herself closer against the tree’s rough trunk. She screwed her eyes closed, trying to bully her brain into ordering her whirling thoughts while her pulse skipped ever faster.

       Who is he? Why is he here?

      It was exactly her luck to have such an unlikely encounter, she acknowledged helplessly, even as the strange feeling crackled beneath her skin and she felt the urge to look down pull at her once again. He wouldn’t remember her, that was for certain. She had been a skinny, dirt-streaked child, and he...

      He now bore a scar, exactly where she had staunched the bleeding gash on his cheek—a pale crescent that somehow only served to enhance the otherwise unblemished perfection of his features...features that looked as though they had been designed to be traced by female fingertips.

      Selina’s own face felt uncomfortably warm as she sat motionless, horrified by the spontaneous reaction of her body. Each nerve tingled with the desire to take another peep at the man below, to make doubly sure her disbelieving eyes had been correct and he truly was the same person she had encountered all those years before—as well as to take another glimpse of the face that made her heart beat a frenzied tattoo against her ribs.

      If it was him, could there be a slim chance her predicament might not be as dire as she had feared?

      As a boy he had accepted her help and seemed grateful for it, she was forced to recall. There had been no sign of any upper-class prejudice then, only two children, both too young to fully grasp the social gulf that would divide them so completely as adults. Perhaps he might be as gracious now he was fully grown, and allow her to leave without too much trouble?

      It was the most Selina could hope for, and she clung to that hope as she prayed for his disconcerting effect on her to wane.

      * * *

      Edward Fulbrooke frowned lightly as he craned his neck upwards. Where exactly was she? He’d known she was there the whole time. Poor Harris and Milton...it was the most obvious hiding place imaginable.

      He’d arrived on the scene just after the two gamekeepers had thundered off, his own horse blowing powerfully from their afternoon ride. Milton’s wife, Ada, had been attempting to drag a wailing Ophelia towards the Hall, and Edward had dismounted swiftly to aid her.

      ‘Oh, Mr Fulbrooke. I’m that glad you’re here!’ Ada’s voice had been barely audible above Ophelia’s sobs, and Edward scooped the child up immediately in one strong arm.

      ‘Ophie. That’s enough. What’s the matter?’

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