His Runaway Maiden. June Francis
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Название: His Runaway Maiden

Автор: June Francis

Издательство: HarperCollins

Жанр: Историческая литература

Серия: Mills & Boon Historical

isbn: 9781408913826

isbn:

СКАЧАТЬ I told you.’

      ‘I deem you have well earned a meal, so let us not talk of payment. We would still be out in that freezing wind if you had not remembered about this cave.’

      Rosamund flushed with pleasure at this second dose of praise. ‘We have both contributed to the comfortable place we now find ourselves in,’ she said shyly.

      The hand holding an apple in mid-air hovered there. ‘You consider this comfortable?’ He could not conceal his surprise.

      ‘We are warm and dry, are we not?’ Her tone was a little on the defensive now. ‘You have built the fire so that hopefully most of the smoke will find its way outside.’

      Alex said drily, ‘You are easily pleased, but I doubt we will be able to keep the fire burning all night.’

      ‘But the cave will hold some heat and we have our cloaks,’ said Rosamund, flinging back her own now the heat from the fire was beginning to penetrate the woollen fabric. She wanted it to get to that part of her that still felt chilled.

      Alex’s growing conviction that this youth was a woman in disguise intensified due to the delightful music in the voice that echoed around the cave. He took the knife strapped to his leg and cut an apple and offered half to his companion.

      Rosamund thanked him and bit into the fruit. Her imagination took wing and she thought about Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden. She grimaced. What nonsense was this? She and this foreigner were not the only man and woman in the world. And probably even if he knew that she was a woman, he would not be tempted to lie with her. Her stepmother and stepbrothers had told her often enough that she was ugly and no man would want her without an enormous dowry—and that was not forthcoming because her father believed she was mad. Tears itched the back of her eyes and she blinked them away.

      ‘What is it?’ asked Alex.

      She started. ‘What do you mean?’

      ‘Is some smoke getting in your eyes?’

      She was amazed that he had noticed that tiny movement and realised that there was little that this man missed. ‘Aye, it is,’ she said gruffly.

      ‘Obviously it is also affecting your throat.’ His penetrating gaze met hers through the flames.

      Rosamund lowered her eyes and was silent.

      Having finished his half of the apple and aware that he had unnerved his companion, Alex set about preparing the spiced ale. After grating nutmeg into the liquid and adding half a stick of cinnamon, he stirred it with his knife. Then he poured the ale into a small iron pot before placing it on the fire. He then divided the bread and meat and gave some to her.

      She thanked him and bit into the food as if halfstarved. She was not only grateful for his provision, but surprised by his generosity and capacity for caring for his own needs. It was difficult to imagine her stepbrothers doing what he had done. They had never shared what was theirs with her, but had always expected to be waited on hand and foot. Edward, in particular, had found a perverse pleasure in forcing her to her knees and insisting she remove his boots. She had done so with loathing in her heart, dwelling on the thought that one day she would see him grovel at her feet. Thank God, she had managed to escape from being humiliated in such a way again.

      No sooner had she finished eating than Alex offered her a leather cup of steaming ale. ‘I have but the one cup, so we will have to share,’ he said.

      ‘My thanks,’ she said, adding awkwardly, ‘I did not think that when we met you would willingly share what was yours with me.’

      She felt a need to talk to someone of her suspicions, but although this foreigner might now be showing kindness to her, somehow the words stuck in her throat. She drew her cloak tightly about her and rested her back against a wall before closing her eyes.

      Alex drained the cup and drew his own cloak about him and stretched out on the ground with his head against his saddle. Who was his companion? Possibly Sir James had bedded a serving wench who worked at the manor. Yet the attractive musical voice was not that of a servant, so it was possible that Sir James had been as fond of her mother as Alex’s natural father claimed to have been of his mother and seen to it that he was treated like a son or daughter of the house. Unless—his companion was a legal offspring of Sir James! A daughter who resented her stepmother and had raised the lady’s wrath by saying her father had been murdered. When threatened, the slightly crazed Mistress Appleby had fled and headed for Lathom House, only to encounter Alex on the way.

      It was now that Alex’s imagination stalled. His young companion had not behaved as if crazed, although if she were seeking help to prove that her father had been murdered, it would have made more sense to speak to the Lord of Lathom House, the Earl of Derby, and not Lady Elizabeth, but that was women for you. Illogical. They were too often ruled by their emotions. He thought of Ingrid and how she had played him and Harry off against each other as the mood took her. No! He would not torture himself with painful memories.

      He decided he would leave his musings there for the moment and catch up on some sleep. From beneath drooping eyelids, he watched his companion, aware of every movement as she sought the most comfortable position on the sandy floor of the cave. Eventually, she fell asleep. For one in fear of her life, who did not trust him, he reckoned she showed a foolish faith in her disguise. Alex made up his mind that, for now, he would play her game, but sooner or later he was going to have to inform her about what was needful to impersonate a man.

      Rosamund woke the following morning to a cold and crisp sunny day. She ached all over, but had slept surprisingly well, considering the discomfort of sleeping on the ground. She glanced across to where Master No Name, as she was beginning to think of him, sat in the shaft of sunlight that flooded through the low opening. Their eyes met and an awareness of his maleness almost overwhelmed her. She wanted to shrink into a corner away from his muscular strength and that penetrating gaze. It made her feel small and vulnerable and intensely feminine. No doubt if he were to discover the truth about her, he would turn away in disgust and abandon her to her fate. Her safety lay in his never knowing what or who she was, so she must keep that constantly in her mind and strut like a youth.

      ‘You have slept well, Master Wood,’ said Alex, casting aside the folds of his cloak and getting to his feet. ‘But the sun is up and it is time we were on our way.’

      She remembered to deepen her voice when she opened her mouth to ask him a question. ‘Do you think there is any chance of us catching up with Lady Elizabeth this day?’

      He gave her an odd look and shrugged before lifting his saddle and asking her to carry out his saddlebags. She nodded, but did not immediately follow him, instead relieving herself in a distant corner of the cave. She determined that she would not be lured into telling him anything about herself. She still did not know in what circumstances he had met her father and what information he had wanted from him.

       Chapter Three

      Rosamund washed her face in the stream outside and then resumed her position on the horse with a determined tilt to her chin.

      Alex soon realised that any hope he had of gaining information about Sir James and his stepson in London was firmly quashed. There was little he could do about it without bringing force to bear on his companion and he was reluctant to rekindle the fear in the blue-violet eyes. So he held his peace and prayed that his patience would eventually pay off. His conviction concerning his companion’s femininity made it almost impossible for him to give his full attention to the passing СКАЧАТЬ