The Blacksmith's Wife. Elisabeth Hobbes

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СКАЧАТЬ Simon Vernon’s establishment; though it was unlikely her uncle would claim knowledge of her presence if he were questioned. And she had promised to deliver the package to Sir Roger’s own hands, even if the promise was only to herself.

      Once inside no one paid Joanna any attention. The camp was as busy as the tournament ground had been and everyone was far too busy with their own affairs to notice one more person engaged on an errand. She found Sir Roger’s tent towards the back of the encampment, flying his blue pennant emblazoned with a green boar but it was empty save for Sir Roger’s page, a dull-witted boy of eight who sat in the corner playing jacks.

      Joanna made her way to the courtyard where makeshift stables and workshops had been assembled. She had given up hope of finding Sir Roger when, through a sudden parting in the crowd, she saw familiar black curls and glimpsed the line of his jaw just as he turned away.

      A thrill of anticipation rippled through Joanna as she eased her way towards him. It had been six months since Sir Roger had last been in York. Despite the urge to run to his arms Joanna stood back and watched in admiration.

      Sir Roger was facing away from her, sharpening a sword with slow, sure strokes. He had removed his armour and padded woollen tunic, but instead of the customary fitted doublet of fine wool he favoured, he was dressed in britches and a shapeless tunic drawn in at the waist with a thick belt. As Joanna watched he laid the sword on a trestle table, rolled his head from side to side and stretched his arms high.

      Intending to surprise him Joanna crept behind him. She reached on tiptoe to whisper in his ear, her lips close enough to brush against his hair.

      ‘Greetings, my lord, I’ve been searching for you.’

      He stiffened and turned to face her. Joanna found herself gazing up into Sir Roger’s eyes.

      In the face of a stranger.

      Her mouth fell open and she stumbled backwards away from the man, dropping her bag. Explanations and apologies tumbled unintelligibly from her lips.

      ‘I didn’t know... I thought you were... I mean... I’m sorry!’

      The man folded his arms across his broad chest. His lips curled into an amused smile. Joanna took another step back, her mind whirling with confusion and embarrassment. Her voice tailed off. Her heart was pounding so loudly she would swear it must be audible. She covered her face with her hands in an attempt to conceal the blush that was turning her pale complexion scarlet and peered through her fingers.

      It was little wonder she had mistaken the man for Sir Roger. From behind they shared the same build and unruly curls. Facing her there was still a resemblance. She noticed for the first time that what she had taken for a belt was a long leather apron tied about his waist. Whoever he was, the stranger was no knight.

      ‘I beg your forgiveness!’ Joanna said, wincing with embarrassment.

      The man ran a hand through the tangle of black curls that fell to just below his ears. He eyed Joanna with an open interest that made her heart thump.

      ‘No forgiveness needed. I thought Lady Fortune was finally smiling on me but alas it seems not,’ he said with an exaggerated note of regret. ‘It’s been so long since I have had such a greeting that I believe I should be thanking you for the experience! Perhaps I will do as a companion?’ he suggested.

      The guards’ earlier comments flooded back. Another flush of shame heated Joanna’s cheeks, spreading across her chest to a neckline that suddenly felt much lower than before. Did this man also take her for a whore? Given her immodest greeting it would not be unlikely he had come to such a conclusion. ‘I don’t know what sort of woman you think I am but I can assure you that you are mistaken,’ she said stiffly, folding her arms defensively across her breasts. ‘I was looking for someone in particular.’

      ‘I gathered that. Now, I wonder who you’re searching for,’ the man mused, running a thumb across the stubble that peppered his jaw. His voice was deep, with a slight trace of accent, though Joanna could not say where it was from. ‘Would you care to wager a cup of wine that I can guess the identity of your quarry?’

      ‘I would not!’ Joanna said firmly. With as much dignity as she could muster under the circumstances she dropped a brief curtsy. ‘Once again I beg your pardon. Good day.’ She picked up her bag and spun on her heel before her heart pushed itself from her chest.

      ‘Try the alehouse,’ the man called after her as she fled. ‘Jousting gives a man more than one kind of thirst after all.’

      Joanna wrinkled her nose in annoyance. She ran back through the camp, past Sir Roger’s tent towards the gate. She paid no attention to her direction and collided roughly with someone. Hands gripped her shoulders and she gave a cry of alarm, twisting to free herself.

      ‘Joanna?’

      She jerked her head upwards to look at her captor and found herself looking into Sir Roger’s face. She let out a sigh of relief.

      Sir Roger frowned.

      ‘What are you doing in the camp? I did not expect to see you until tonight at the earliest.’ His face relaxed into a smile as he drew her arm under his and led her back towards his tent, regaling her with an account of the tournament she had just witnessed. She pushed her thoughts of the stranger to the back of her mind.

      Sir Roger pushed back the curtain covering his tent doorway and ushered Joanna inside. He tossed his page a coin.

      ‘Go buy yourself some sweetmeats.’

      The boy ambled off, leaving them alone. Sir Roger pulled Joanna to him, his hands at either side of her waist.

      ‘I’m surprised at you coming here alone.’ His voice was stern but the glint in his eye told Joanna he was far from disapproving. His eyes took on a hungry expression. ‘You’re usually so modest, too.’

      Joanna glanced at the doorway but Sir Roger did not appear to notice her uneasiness. He lunged to kiss her. His lips scraped against hers and his hands began to slide from her waist downwards to spread across her hips. Joanna stiffened. This was the first time they had been completely alone and Sir Roger’s behaviour was more forceful than she had expected. The guards’ mocking words whispered in Joanna’s mind.

      She wriggled from Sir Roger’s arms.

      ‘I brought you a gift,’ she said hastily to hide her unease. She rummaged into her bag until she produced a cloth-wrapped bundle. Sir Roger unwrapped it eagerly, revealing an ornately decorated belt buckle.

      ‘Your uncle made this?’ he asked, holding it to the light.

      Joanna nodded and rubbed her fingers lovingly over the incised leaves. ‘Though I chased the pattern myself.’

      Sir Roger took her hands and drew her close. ‘It’s beautiful. You’ll be a worthy heir to your uncle’s business.’

      Joanna blushed with pleasure at the compliment but laughed. ‘His heir? Not I. He has a son now. But of course, it’s been months since you were in York. You wouldn’t know my aunt’s child was a boy.’

      ‘What good fortune for your uncle,’ Roger said.

      ‘Perhaps you might congratulate him in person tonight and speak to him about other matters,’ Joanna began shyly.

      ‘That СКАЧАТЬ