The Heiress Bride. Susan Paul

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СКАЧАТЬ despite your admirable charms, and he would certainly never take your part over your uncle’s. Or did you think to find some other kind of refuge there?”

      Rosaleen understood very well what he meant, and the suggestion that she would seek any man’s protection in return for her favors angered her.

      “I have relatives in London,” she said, speaking the truth. Through her father, who had been the head of his family as well as the Earl of Siere, she had innumerable and very important relatives at court. The thought of not being received by the king, or at least by one of his regents, was laughable, though she wasn’t about to tell this strange man that.

      Her answer brought him a look of relief. “Relatives,” he murmured. “Good. Much better than the other roads left you. Though with your beauty you’d no doubt end up in court, anyway.” As a leman, he left unsaid.

      “I’m so glad you approve,” she replied dryly. “Now if you don’t mind, Sir…Sir…what is your name?”

      Hugh rose from the bed with fluid grace. “It’s Hugh. Hugh Caldwell.” He lifted a pile of clothes off a chair and returned to place them on the bed. “At your service, my lady,” he added mockingly, with a slight bow.

      Rosaleen gazed up at his towering, muscular figure. “I perceive that I owe you a debt of thanks, Sir Hugh, and I-”

      “Not Sir Hugh,” he stated tersely.

      She looked at him with incomprehension. “But, you are a knight, are you not?”

      “God forbid!” he said with feeling. “I am nothing more than what you see. Just Hugh Caldwell.” He strode to the open window and gazed out of it. “And you may dress now, if it pleases you.”

      Rosaleen glanced at the clothes he’d left beside her.

      “But these—”

      “Aren’t your clothes,” he finished, still gazing out the window. “I know that. Your clothes were soaked with blood, thanks to your guardian’s treatment of you and to your own foolishness in venturing out in your condition. They were ruined, and I had to throw them away. Those belonged to the innkeeper’s daughter. I bought them.” He glanced at her and shrugged. “They’ll be a little large on you, but they’ll do.” He turned his gaze skyward again. “There’s a girdle to secure them with.”

      Silence reigned in the room for a full minute, until Rosaleen finally cleared her throat to gain his attention. He spared her another short glance from where he looked out the window.

      “What?”

      “I wish to dress,” she said as lightly as she could, hoping he would understand.

      “And so you may.”

      “Alone,” she clarified. “Or with the help of the maid, if you don’t mind.”

      He smiled. “I don’t mind at all, sweeting, save there is no maid and I’ll not leave this room. You have about three minutes to get yourself dressed without me watching, so I advise you use them well.”

      “But…at least send up the woman who helped me to undress in the first place!”

      This time he actually laughed. “I’m the one who undressed you, sweet. If you desire my assistance, I’ll be more than glad to help. If you don’t, you’d best do as I advised earlier.”

      Being possessed of an amazingly quick mind, Rosaleen grabbed the clothes and began to dress in a hurry. She wasn’t entirely successful, for she was not used to being dressed without help, and her back still pained her with the misery of slowly healing wounds. The underclothes provided, she discovered with dismay, were made of rough wool and not of the soft, supple silk she always wore. When she pulled the surcot over her head, her arms somehow got tangled in the cloth, and, muttering an angry oath, she found herself unable to get them free.

      Hearing her, Hugh Caldwell turned away from the window, took in her half-clad figure with a shake of his head and strode to where she sat struggling helplessly. Grasping the light blue surcot, which matched the color of her eyes, he tugged it over her head and down her body, freeing her arms, then he snatched up the girdle to fasten it around her waist. “Your guardian was able to afford a maid to lend you aid in dressing, it seems,” he commented rather pointedly. “You clearly aren’t used to doing it yourself.” He knelt to fasten the overlarge leather boots on her feet.

      “My maid was a girl who came from the village,” Rosaleen said truthfully, though guiltily. Jeanne had lived in the village, but Castle Siere had more than eighty other servants who had come from all parts of England.

      Hugh nodded. “I see.” He strode to the window again. Once there, he leaned out, saw something he had evidently been looking for and turned back into the room.

      He fixed a leather strap around his left arm and sent a sharp whistle out the window. With a great deal of flapping, a compact, fierce-looking gyrfalcon settled on his wrist, and he drew her into the room.

      “Sweet baby,” he cooed to the magnificent creature. “Little darling. My beautiful Amazon.”

      Rosaleen sat on the bed, her hands in her lap, and watched with interest as Hugh Caldwell filled his mouth with water from a nearby cup, then bent his handsome head to let the bird drink the liquid as it dripped slowly from his lips. When the hunter had drunk her fill, Hugh Caldwell began to hum a little tune to her, over and over, the same simple tones in repetition, which kept the wild bird entranced so that he could set a hood over her head. Once the hood was fixed the bird was perfectly docile, and he proceeded to handle her deftly, tightening the jesses on her legs and setting her on the back of a chair to perch while he went about packing his things.

      “She’s beautiful,” Rosaleen murmured appreciatively.

      In the midst of stuffing his lute into a traveling bag, Hugh paused. His head shot up and he grinned at her. “You know about birds, then?”

      “Oh, yes,” she replied without thinking. “I’ve many fine birds of my own at—” she stopped herself just in time “-home.”

      “Do you? I used to have several myself, when I was a lad. Amazon’s been with me this past year. She’s quite young yet.”

      Rosaleen looked at the bird with open admiration. In her mews at Siere there were many fine hunting birds, and she was skilled in using them during hunts, but never had she seen a more promising gyrfalcon than the one Hugh Caldwell possessed. It occurred to her that there was more to him than met the eye. Perhaps he wasn’t a knight, but no ordinary man could possibly possess such a creature, or afford one, either.

      “She hasn’t any bells,” she commented, still watching as he continued to pack his things.

      Hugh didn’t stop this time as he tied the strings of his bag together. “No, she hasn’t,” he replied, straightening and lifting Amazon from her perch. “Well then, Rosaleen no-name,” he said as he toted the bag up over one shoulder, “goodbye. It has been more pleasant than I could ever say, and I do hope you’ll find your way to London with ease.”

      He started for the door, and Rosaleen shot up off the bed.

      “What!” she shrieked.

      He stopped just in front of the door.

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