Redeeming The Rogue Knight. Elisabeth Hobbes

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СКАЧАТЬ He held his finger to his lips. Lucy gestured at the bottle and he relaxed his stance. The beating on the door started again. Lucy started towards it, but Thomas stepped in front of her, seizing her upper arm.

      ‘They must not come in,’ Thomas muttered. ‘Keep silent. Perhaps they’ll go of their own accord.’

      ‘Who are they?’ Lucy whispered, her blood chilling at his words. ‘Why are they looking for you?’

      Thomas looked shiftily from side to side.

      ‘I have done everything you asked,’ Lucy reminded him. She folded her arms and gave him the look she used on Robbie when she caught him pulling the kitchen cat’s tail. ‘You appear here with no explanation or warning and throw me into something I don’t understand. Why has my home been invaded?’

      ‘It’s my home, too,’ Thomas muttered.

      Lucy placed her hands on her hips and glared. ‘A home I’ve been keeping while you were off doing goodness knows what!’ A thought occurred to her. ‘Is this to do with your Northern Company?’

      ‘No!’ Thomas protested. He bowed his head. ‘We were staying with a nobleman not far from here. It was Sir Roger’s fault. He offended our host.’

      ‘What did he do? Tell me or I will call out right now.’

      ‘He seduced Lord Harpur’s daughter,’ Thomas admitted with an odd expression on his face.

      Lucy folded her arms tighter as surprise coursed through her. To hear that hated name from Thomas’s lips! He couldn’t know her connection to the nobleman.

      At the same time, her worries eased a little. They were not thieves evading capture. They had not murdered or committed treason, or any of the other crimes she had been imagining. From the little she had seen of Sir Roger’s behaviour towards a woman, a seduction did not seem unsurprising and the tale had the ring of truth to it. Sir Roger was guilty of doing what any nobleman assumed was his right, but to trespass against John Harpur, then take refuge in Lucy’s house was a cruel twist of fate. It struck her as far too funny and made her want to laugh: a deep eruption bubbling beneath her brittle surface that would most likely never cease if she allowed it to the surface.

      The thumping on the door stopped abruptly. Perhaps the men had assumed the inn was deserted and gone. Lucy was uncertain whether or not to be relieved. She felt a pang of sympathy for cold, pinch-faced Katherine Harpur who would no doubt be suffering her father’s cruel temper. She was mildly surprised that Sir Roger had found the mouse-like woman worth risking his neck over. The kiss he had pressed on Lucy—unwelcome though it had been—felt oddly diminished by the knowledge.

      Nevertheless, she felt a delicious sense of spite that Lord Harpur had been shamed in such a way. If Katherine had been left with a child, would she, too, be cast out to starve?

      She smiled at Thomas and reached for the bottle.

      ‘Let’s take this back to your friend. I think they’re gone, but I promise I won’t open the door. Lord Harpur is no friend to me.’

      ‘Why?’

      Thomas looked puzzled at her abrupt, and what must seem confusing, change of attitude, but she had no intention of revealing the reason behind it. That was her secret alone.

      ‘That is no concern of yours.’

      Thomas was not completely dull-witted; perhaps he would work the reason out for himself. Eventually.

      Thomas lowered his sword. They were halfway to the stairs when a thump louder than before thundered around the room. The previous noises had sounded like fists on wood, but this had a more sinister tone. There was a second thump and the door hinges creaked, light bursting round the frame. Lord Harpur’s men had found the means to try to force entry and the old door would not withstand them for long. She glared at Thomas in desperation.

      ‘They’ll break in. I can’t refuse to answer it.’

      Thomas glanced from the door to the stairs. He crossed the room, drawing his sword once more, and slipped into the shadows, crouching at the end of the counter where the door would conceal him once open. Lucy ran her hands through her hair, tangling it and pulling some of the fine, brown strands forward across her cheek. She unlaced the front of her kirtle and pulled at the neck, easing it low until more of her linen shift could be seen than was decent. She eased the neck of her shift down, too, dragging the cloth to one side. She rubbed her eyes to redden them. Taking a deep breath, she crossed to the door.

      ‘Who is it?’ she asked, pressing her hands on the wood and putting her lips close to the gap at the side of the frame. The door thumped once more, sending tremors running through her palms and up into her arms. She cried out in shock.

      ‘Open up!’ came a harsh voice. ‘We mean you no harm. We are searching for fugitives.’

      Thomas paled.

      ‘That voice! Open it. But please, do not betray us,’ he whispered.

      He sounded terrified and Lucy ignored the unfair insinuation. She nodded.

      Thomas hid beside the door, disguised amid the folds of Lucy’s cloak. For the second time that night, she slowly drew the latch back, her hands trembling. She opened the door slightly and peered through the gap. Two men tried to look past her, one large enough he had to stoop to look at her. She wedged her foot against the door.

      ‘I have seen no one all night.’ She yawned and brushed the hair from her eyes, frowning at them in confusion. ‘You woke me from my bed.’

      ‘It took long enough to rouse you,’ the smaller man remarked. ‘Let us in. One of them might be hurt. Perhaps both. They’re dangerous men and we need to find them.’

      ‘On whose authority?’ Lucy asked.

      ‘On our own,’ rumbled the giant from deep within his hood. ‘Let us in or we’ll flay the skin from your back.’

      Lucy opened the door wide, careful to conceal Thomas without hitting him and making the door bounce back. Still holding the door to prevent the men closing it, she beckoned them in. Her heart was in her throat as she watched them take in the sight of her inn, gazing all around the small room. Lucy stood silently, glad the only light was from the dying fire.

      The men finally turned their attention to Lucy. One man, dark haired and swarthy, could not take his eyes from her. She smiled nervously, hoping he would treat her kindly. His companion, hulking, equally dark but beardless, was not so easily distracted.

      ‘What’s in there?’ he asked, jerking his thumb towards the storeroom.

      ‘It’s where I keep the ale.’ She tried to keep her voice level. ‘Who are you searching for?’

      The giant walked into the storeroom. His companion stayed with Lucy. She could hear the sound of boxes being moved and the lid lifted and dropped on the ale cask.

      ‘We’re hunting a pair of thieves and rogues,’ the dark man answered, his black eyebrows coming together.

      Neither man looked like someone in Lord Harpur’s employ. Lucy wondered if Thomas had told the truth about why they were being hunted.

      ‘They СКАЧАТЬ