Free The Wife Test by Betina Krahn Page B

sounds of fighting began to die. Desperate to see what was happening, Chloe pried Margarete’s fingers from her arms and pushed up to peer over the side of the wagon.
    She could make out flashes of metal and feverish motion at the edge of the woods. There was some shouting and the remaining brigands broke off the fight and fled. Instead of giving chase, Sir Graham ordered the rest of his men back to the camp and their horses. Sir Hugh was right behind them, but as he neared camp veered toward the wagons instead of a saddle.
    “Stay down, dammit!” he shouted as he spotted her above the wagon’s rim. She gave their ruined tent a quick glance, then ducked back down into the wagon and reassured her terrified companions.
    “It’s Sir Hugh. The brigands wrecked our tent—I think they may have made off with our replacements!”
    Moments later they heard the clank of harness chains and the thud of hooves approaching and realized the soldiers were hitching the wagons. A wooden wheel groaned as someone used it to climb up to the plank that formed a driver’s seat. Chloe stretched up to see over the cargo and was relieved to find Sir Hugh himself seizing the reins and slapping the horses into motion.
    “Where are we going?” she called out, crawling over and around dower goods to the front of the wagon.
    “To safety,” he called out. “Get your head down.”
    “But we can’t just abandon Mattias and the others!”
    She braced herself against the wagon’s pitching side and pushed herself up higher to look behind them. The other wagon, the cart, and a string of empty horses were rumbling along in their wake. The sight of Sir Graham and the rest of the men headed into the woods after the brigands reassured her. She walked her hands around to the front and seized the edge of the driver’s seat.
    “You’re not going to help them get Mattias and Withers back?”
    “Will you get out of sight?” he ground out. When she didn’t move, he was forced to answer. “They were supposed to be taken.”
    “They were? Why?”
    “So they can learn who is behind these attacks.”
    “But then, why is Sir Graham riding after them?”
    “It won’t look right if they’re not pursued.” He sounded as if he spoke through gritted teeth as he smacked the horses’ rumps with the reins, trying to get them to move faster. “Now will you bloody well
get down
and
stay down?”
    “Ohhh.” It made complete sense. “A Trojan horse, of sorts.” He looked over his shoulder with surprise, just as her eyes flew wide. “What will they do when they do learn they don’t have marriageable young maidens?”
     
    The Frenchmen carried their captives through the forest toward the same deserted cottage their scout had made use of the night before. By the time they reached the waiting horses and flung their burdens facedown across the saddles, their backs were straining and muscles were screaming.
    “Dieu
—they are heavier than I remembered,” one of the men snarled, giving his captive’s rump a smack. The whine and thrashing that produced delighted him. “Eh? You like that,
ma petite?”
He smacked her again.
    “This one—she has had her nose too long in the trough,” another of the brigands growled as he stuck his foot in a stirrup and swung up behind the maid he’d carried. His outraged captive managed to deal him a hearty
thwack
on the shin and he yelped. Retaliating, he brought a fist crashing down on the back of her head, and she went limp.
    “N’importe,
Ricard. You will work that roundness from her!” another of the outlaws called with a wicked laugh.
    The raiding party kept to the valleys and the fast-disappearing shadows as they raced across the countryside. They flashed grins at each other and fondled their captives’ upturned bottoms. The maids’ frantic protests only stirred them to bawdier humor and greater anticipation.
    Their destination, a rocky outcropping overlooking a bend in the river, was deserted just as they