MAIDEN in the Tudor Court. June Francis

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      Rosamund scrambled to her feet and took several deep breaths. Despite the cold and damp, she had felt a heat between them that had her wanting to fan herself. But now was not the time to think of such things. They had to get away. She had only taken a couple of steps when a noise to her rear warned her that they were not alone. She called a warning to Alex before she was seized from behind.

      ‘Let me go,’ she cried, fearing that she had been caught by Edward.

      ‘Youse shut yer mouth and keep yer orders to yerself,’ snapped an unfamiliar voice.

      Rosamund could scarcely believe that she had been captured by another ruffian. ‘Not now,’ she muttered, struggling to free herself.

      ‘We wants to know what yer’ve got in yer pockets,’ snarled the man, twisting her right arm up her back. She cried out in pain.

      ‘Hold fast there,’ said Alex, drawing not only his own sword, but Rosamund’s short-sword as well. ‘Release her at once.’

      ‘Another furriner giving his orders,’ said a woman with a sniff.

      ‘Just do as I say or I’ll run you through,’ said Alex.

      The man who held Rosamund captive produced a dagger. ‘Come one step nearer and I’ll slit his throat.’

      ‘You have too much to say for yourself,’ growled Alex, and with one swift movement he knocked the dagger from the man’s hand and then, with a twirl of the other sword, he caught him a blow beneath the chin with its hilt. The dagger flew off into the darkness and the man’s hold on Rosamund’s arm slackened as he slid to the ground.

      ‘Hey, what have yer dun to him?’ asked his accomplice.

      Alex did not bother replying, but seized Rosamund’s hand and dragged her away, hurrying her along the bank of the tributary until the woman’s cries faded into the distance.

      ‘Wh-where are we going?’ asked Rosamund, needing to clench her teeth in an attempt to stop them from chattering. She could not see the way ahead.

      Alex bit back an oath and removed his own cloak and wrapped it round her. His fingers brushed her throat as he tied the strings and she trembled.

      ‘Keep still and be glad you’re a woman,’ he said brusquely. ‘I wouldn’t be so gallant if you were a man.’

      ‘Why should y-you feel a n-need to be gallant when y-you must believe my behaviour w-w-wicked and unseemly?’

      ‘I was taught by my grandmother to respect women. A habit I find difficult to break. Come, we must go carefully. I have friends who can provide us with a hot tub and dry clothing.’

      ‘Where is your horse?’ she asked.

      ‘At their house. I stabled him whilst I visited a couple of places.’

      ‘But I told you I had to see Lady Elizabeth Stanley. Did you not think of going to her home in search of me?’

      ‘Aye. But not immediately. Anyway, we are some way from her mansion.’

      ‘I was looking for a used clothes dealer in the hope of exchanging my cloak for a gown.’

      ‘Then you are in luck,’ said Alex, stepping carefully. ‘Tell me, how did you reach London so swiftly on foot?’

      ‘A man took pity on me and let me ride in his cart. I was limping because my feet were sore.’ Suddenly she slipped in the snow and was saved only by the strength in his wrist.

      ‘You should not have run away from me.’ His tone was vexed.

      ‘I had to because I believed you had a disgust of me for getting drunk.’ She gripped his hand tightly, still concerned about slipping in the snow. ‘Tell me, how did I betray myself?’

      ‘Your eyes, your lips and the way you swing your hips when you walk—the timbre of your voice and not even a hint of a whisker on your chin. Of course, there was also the slip about your stepmother wanting you to marry Edward.’

      ‘How foolish of me!’ She sighed heavily. ‘But why did you not mention it at the time? I see I made lots of mistakes, but I swear on my mother’s grave that everything I told you about myself and my stepfamily is true.’

      ‘If I did not believe that, then I would not be taking you to my friends. How old are you, Mistress Appleby?’

      ‘I have seen twenty-two summers, not eighteen,’ she said rapidly. ‘Do you not think it strange that that religious mistook me for this Black Harry?’

      ‘How did your brother die?’

      ‘Lady Monica told me he drowned. His clothes were found close to a part of the river where he used to bathe.’

      ‘Was his body ever found?’

      ‘No, but she initiated a search.’

      ‘It is still possible that he did not drown,’ said Alex. ‘I must tell you, Mistress Appleby, that you were crying in your sleep last night. You believed he was being carried away.’

      Rosamund stopped in her tracks. ‘You mean my dream of him being carried away was not a delusion, but real?’ she asked in a strained voice.

      ‘Aye. It can be the only answer to your not only being mistaken for this Black Harry, but also for your father seeing a likeness to someone in a past life in this same Black Harry.’

      Rosamund’s mouth fell open and then she clamped it shut and took a deep breath before saying in a rush, ‘How do you know this about my father?’

      ‘Because he spoke those words to me on the only occasion I met him.’

      Rosamund experienced such a splurge of joy that it rocked her to her heels and she needed to clutch Alex all the tighter. ‘I so want to believe it,’ she said.

      ‘Then you must because I deem it the truth.’

      Tears welled in Rosamund’s eyes. ‘I remember my brother well. I loved him dearly,’ she said softly. ‘He was protective towards me and was brave and funny.’

      ‘Do not expect him to be exactly the same as you remember,’ warned Alex. ‘That’s if we ever find him. People change.’

      ‘Not Harry,’ she said firmly.

      ‘How can you possibly know? I trusted him like you did. When I first knew him I believed he possessed all the qualities you mentioned. But he betrayed me for the love of Ingrid and a stolen cargo.’

      ‘I don’t believe my brother is a thief and you are saying that love changes people for the worst? I do not believe that either,’ she said stoutly.

      ‘I deem you have never been in love, Mistress Appleby,’ he rasped. ‘Passion, desire, lust can drive a man to do things that he would never normally do.’

      ‘More fool the man,’ she retorted. ‘Oh, how I wish Father was here! This news would have made him so happy.’

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