The Adventurer's Bride. June Francis

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СКАЧАТЬ you all right?’ she asked, her eyes widening with concern.

      ‘A blade pierced my shoulder. A mere scratch!’ he lied. ‘It is more important that Matilda is fed. I thought with you having your son to nurture that you could give succour to her as well.’

      Matilda! Jane’s disturbed brown eyes met his hazel ones. ‘I fear that I must disappoint you. I cannot do what you ask!’

      Nicholas looked at her in shocked dismay. ‘Never did I think to hear you speak so, Jane Caldwell!’

      ‘Do not take on so,’ she cried, hastily seizing the bridle again and hopping to one side so as to avoid the horse’s hooves. Her voice dropped. ‘It brings a flush to my cheeks to speak of such to you, but I have no choice but to refuse your request because I—I...’ She floundered, embarrassed to speak of such a personal matter to a man, yet it was this man who had assisted at the birth of her son. She added in a rushed whisper, ‘My milk has dried up and I cannot feed even Simon. No doubt it is due to the sudden death of my husband and all the extra work involved in selling the house. It has been such a worry thinking about how I am to provide for the children, what with trying to find a weaver willing to work with me—a task which appears to have proved beyond even Master Mortimer’s abilities so far.’ She took a breath, realising she was gabbling to cover her nervousness. ‘Now let us not discuss this matter further right now. We must get you and the child indoors without further ado!’

      Mortified and deeply concerned by the mention of Master Mortimer, Nicholas could only stare at her as he swayed in the saddle, clutching his shoulder. ‘I beg your pardon. I have no experience of such matters. Does young Simon still live?’

      ‘Aye, I have hired the service of a wet nurse who has ample milk,’ she said. ‘I do not doubt Anna will be willing to provide for Ma-Matilda, as well, for a small fee.’

      He could not conceal his relief. ‘You will arrange it?’

      ‘Of course, I would not have any child starve.’ She wasted no more time in talk, but swept before him like the galleon he had likened her to when first he saw her, leaving him to follow on his horse.

      He swore inwardly, deeply regretting the faux pas he had made, and, summoning his remaining strength, told the horse to walk on. He had no idea if there was stabling at this present house of hers. If not, then he would have to find the nearest inn and stable the beast there.

      As soon as Nicholas saw the house, which was at the end of a row of terraced dwellings constructed of the local stone, he realised that the knocks he had received had done more than make him dizzy, they had caused him to momentarily forget that Jane’s husband had left his financial affairs in a mess. Hence her reason for moving to Witney to a much smaller house than the one he had visited in Oxford. There was no way she would have been able to afford the luxury of her own stabling even if she owned a horse.

      She suggested that he ride his mount to the back of the house where there was a garden and leave the horse there for now. ‘I will send for Matt, the son of the wet nurse, and he can stable it for you at the Blue Boar Inn.’

      As he was feeling extremely weary, Nicholas agreed. He dismounted with difficulty, glad that there was no one there to see him narrowly avoid falling flat on his face. He stumbled to his feet and struggled with the straps of the saddlebags, pain stabbing through his shoulder and down his side and arm like a skewer. At last he managed to complete his task and, not having the strength to throw the saddlebags over his uninjured shoulder, carried them dangling from his left hand towards the rear door of the house.

      Fortunately it was unlocked and he pressed down on the latch and entered the building. He found himself in a darkened room and almost fell over the loom that was there, narrowly avoiding bumping into a spinning wheel and several baskets on the floor. Before he could climb the two steps that led to an inner door, it was flung wide from the other side and Jane stood there, holding a candlestick that provided a circle of warm light.

      ‘This way,’ she said.

      He thanked her and entered the main chamber of the house. Instantly the two girls and the boy who were waiting there rushed over to him. He dropped the saddlebags.

      ‘You’ve come, you’ve come,’ cried Elizabeth, hugging as far as she could reach of his waist whilst James’s small arms wrapped around one of his legs and Margaret stood close by, beaming up at him.

      He had never expected such an enthusiastic welcome, although he remembered the children being friendly enough at their first meeting last year. He had been told to tell them stories and had done his best. He thought how different this greeting was from that of his elder brother Christopher’s sons and daughter, whom he scarcely knew. They were inclined to be tongue-tied in his company, as if overcome by his presence. He felt tears prick his eyes. If it had not been for Jane ordering the children to allow Master Hurst to warm himself by the fire, he might have been completely unmanned.

      She set a chair close to the fire and bade him be seated. On unsteady legs he crossed the floor, hesitating by the cradle to gaze down at the child sleeping there.

      ‘He has grown,’ he murmured.

      ‘What did you expect? He is more than four months old now,’ said Jane, her face softening.

      Without lifting his head, he said, ‘I will never forget seeing him born. It was a happening completely outside my experience.’

      ‘That was obvious,’ she said unsteadily.

      He looked up, caught her eye and she blushed.

      They continued to stare at each other, both remembering the forced intimacy of Simon’s birth at a time when they were only newly acquainted.

      He recalled her cursing him and his rushing to carry out her commands, fearing she might die before the midwife arrived. She had called him a lackwit when he had not reacted fast enough, for Simon’s birth had been imminent. When the boy’s head had appeared, the ground had appeared to rock beneath Nicholas’s feet and he had thought he would swoon. Fortunately her unexpectedly calm voice had recalled him to his responsibility towards both mother and child. He had once seen a calf born and although that experience was definitely different he had managed to react in a way that met Jane’s approval.

      As for Jane, she was thinking that it was probably best that they had never met before the day of Simon’s birth, otherwise she would never have had the nerve to order him around the way she had done. Hearsay was not the same as actually meeting someone face-to-face. Of course, she had known more about Nicholas than he did of her, yet setting eyes on a real live hero was a very different matter from one who lived in the pages of a book and somehow seemed larger than life.

      Chapter Two

      Jane dropped her gaze and Nicholas forced himself to cross the remaining distance to the fire, wondering afresh what madness had caused him to unburden himself that day of Simon’s birth and speak of Louise. He should have kept his mouth shut because it was obvious to him that Jane might find it difficult to accept Louise’s daughter in the circumstances. Why had he not considered that as a possibility? Was it because Jane had so impressed him with that maternal side of her nature? He could only pray that his daughter would be able to win her heart as those children in her charge had won his with the warmth of their welcome.

      He sank thankfully into a chair. The children followed and stationed themselves with a girl on either side of him whilst James leaned against his knee and fired a question at him.

      Jane СКАЧАТЬ