Читать книгу The Heiress Bride - Susan Paul - Страница 8

A soft, melodic sound drifted into Rosaleen’s dreams, beckoning her to wake. A lute, she thought dimly, her mind struggling to lift out of its sleepy stupor. Someone was playing a lute. And she was…where? In a room? Yes. Not her room at Castle Siere, but a room somewhere. Without opening her eyes she could sense light, the kind of light that meant day, and a gentle breeze caressed her shoulders and face. The bed she lay upon was firm and comfortable, the sheets were cool against her skin. Stretching, yawning, keeping her eyes closed, she snuggled into the mattress and tried to make sense of it all.

Her memories were blurred, at best. She had been so very weary and in so much pain. The wounds on her back had felt hot as fire and had stung as though soaked with lime. The battle to keep going had been fierce, indeed. And then she had caught sight of the inn. What had she done with her horse? she wondered. She couldn’t recall whether she’d had enough sense to stable it or not, only that she had somehow dragged her aching body inside the smoky depths of the inn to request a room.

The memory made Rosaleen frown. Aye, she had requested a room, and the innkeeper had given her a great deal of trouble. What was it he had said? Something about having to share her night’s profits with him? Whatever had the filthy creature meant? She hadn’t been able to make him understand that she only wanted a room, and when she had tried to explain it once more she’d been accosted by three lecherous brutes, one of whom had gone so far as to lay hands on her.

Her memories after that became less clear. There had been a handsome stranger, with a handsome smile and handsome green eyes and handsome manners, who had come to her rescue, and then there had been only this. A comfortable bed, the taste of bitter medicine, a soothing of her pain, gentle hands caring for her…and dreams.

Dreams, she thought hazily. Only dreams, and yet they had seemed so real. She could recall them vividly, as if she were dreaming them all over again. She could almost feel his hands and lips on her again, moving over her body, and she could hear his voice, soft, whispering. It had both unsettled and soothed her, just as he had…

“You’re smiling, sweeting. That means you’re either dreaming of last night or you’ve finally come awake. Now, which is it, I wonder?”

Rosaleen’s eyes flew open.

“Ah, you’re awake. Good.”

Warm breath touched her cheek. Rosaleen turned her head very slowly. There, smiling down at her, his face inches from her own, his arms like pillars on either side of her, was the handsome stranger.

The scream that came out of her mouth startled both of them. The stranger quickly stood up, and Rosaleen, ignoring the pain it caused, leapt out of the bed on the other side. A shock of cool air on her skin caused her to look down at herself, and the unexpected sight of her completely naked body made her scream again. She dived back into the bed and pulled the bed covers all the way up to her chin.

“God’s bones, mistress!” said the stranger, laughing, his green eyes filled with amusement. “Must you make so much noise? You’ll have our good hosts bursting in to see whether I’m murdering you.”

“How d-dare you!” she sputtered, tightening her grip on the covers. “How d-d-d-dare you! Get out!” She pointed a shaking finger at the door. “Get out! Now!”

The man raised an eyebrow at her. “You would throw me out of my own room, mistress? After all I’ve suffered in it for your sake these past two days?”

“Your room!” Rosaleen was flooded with confusion. “God’s teeth! What am I doing in your room? And where are my clothes? My things? At least send up a maid and go away so that I may make myself decent. Dear God in heaven!” She set a hand to her forehead. “How long have I been here? I don’t even know where I am!”

“It appears you’re feeling better, at least,” he commented. “Your back doesn’t pain you?”

“My back?” she repeated. Was the man deaf? Why was he still standing there when she had asked him to fetch a serving maid? “Yes, it’s much better. Now go away and send the maid at once to attend me.”

He sat on the bed beside her, causing Rosaleen to lean away and clutch the blankets even more tightly. “Whoever beat you like that ought to be strung up by his feet and repaid in kind, sweeting, and if I ever meet up with the bastard I promise you I’ll do it. I’m half-tempted to alter my plans and go after the fiend anyhow, so help me I am. What in God’s holy name did you ever do to deserve it?”

Making sure to keep herself covered, Rosaleen scrambled as far away from him as possible. The fact that he was sitting on a bed that contained a totally naked lady didn’t seem to bother him in the least. Indeed, he looked perfectly at ease.

“Well?” he prompted.

“I…” Rosaleen faltered beneath his green-eyed perusal. Merciful heavens! He was certainly handsome enough. His long dark hair, tied up neatly in a tail at the back of his head, had been lightened several shades by the strength of the sun. His face, squarely built and strongly featured, was the most perfectly masculine face she had ever seen. His lips, full and sensual, seemed drawn into a permanently mocking grin.

“Please get off the bed,” she said.

He laced his fingers around one crossed knee. “Not until I have a few answers from you, sweet. I’ve not wasted nearly two full days biding my time at this wayside inn for mere pleasure. The sooner you answer my questions, the sooner we can both be quit of this place.”

“Sir, if you will please just…go away for a few minutes so that I can…can…” She clenched her teeth. “If you’ve not yet noticed, I am not dressed.”

He grinned. “I’m not blind, mistress.”

“Well, then?”

“Well?” he repeated.

What in God’s name was the matter with him? Was the man an idiot? “Well then,” she returned patiently, “would you please go away and send the maid to me?”

“As soon as you answer my questions, I’ll answer yours,” he offered, unlacing his fingers and reclining across the bed near her feet, keeping himself propped up on one elbow. “We’ll begin with something easy. Your name.”

“My name?”

“Yes, sweeting, your name. What is it?”

“It’s…” None of your concern, she nearly told him, then thought better of it. She didn’t have a great deal of time to waste bantering with this fool. She had already lost an entire day, a day during which her uncle would have been looking everywhere for her. If he hadn’t yet come this direction, he soon would, and Rosaleen had to make certain she was on her way to London before that happened. “Rosaleen,” she finished.

“Rosaleen,” he repeated approvingly. “Very nice. You’re certainly as pretty as any rose I’ve ever seen. What’s the rest of it?”

Rosaleen bit her lip, wondering how much information she could safely part with. This man had saved her from an unpleasant situation and had clearly made certain that she’d been taken care of while she’d lain sleeping, but how far would his chivalry extend once he knew she was the heiress to one of the most powerful and richest titles in England? If he were to discover the truth, might he not try to force her back to her uncle with the hope of a reward?

“Just Rosaleen,” she whispered.

“Just Rosaleen?” His eyebrows rose mockingly. “I find that hard to believe, sweeting. Even the lowliest of serfs has more of a name than that. Come, tell me the rest of it. I’ll do you no harm.”

Rosaleen shook her head. “I cannot tell you,” she said, “and I would rather not lie. I do not know you or anything about you.”

She expected him to press her, but instead a look of understanding passed his features, and he smiled. “I’d rather you not lie to me, either, sweet. Honesty is a virtue I prize more highly than others.” He nodded his head in tribute. “Rosaleen will suffice. Now, lovely Rosaleen, where have you come from, and who beat you, and why did he do it?”

Resigned to the fact that he’d not be satisfied until he had his questions answered, Rosaleen replied, factually, “I come from a small village north of here. I was beaten by my uncle for refusing to marry the man he had chosen for me. And before you bother to ask, I am on my way to London. Now, may I please be allowed to dress?”

“In a moment,” Hugh said thoughtfully, settling his long body more comfortably on the bed, oblivious to the fact that Rosaleen drew herself into an even tighter ball.

He was quiet for a time, considering her words.

She had been beaten by her uncle for refusing to marry the man who’d been chosen for her. It was a common enough offense, and by law her guardian had every right to do exactly as he had, but that didn’t matter to Hugh. When he had carried her up to his room two nights before, he had been sickened to discover the condition she was in. The wounds on her back had opened and bled through her clothes, soaking them so thoroughly that he’d had to cut them off and throw them away.

The memory made Hugh frown. The bastard who’d beaten her was an animal, and hunting down such animals was one of Hugh’s very favorite sports. But she clearly wasn’t going to be forthcoming with enough information to lead him on that hunt, a fact that only made Hugh that much more curious.

She wasn’t a whore, of that he was certain, but if she was a lady, possessed of any kind of gentle birth, she couldn’t be anything grander than the daughter of some vaguely landed lord. The plain clothing she’d worn had given testament to that, and she’d already admitted as much, having said that she came from a small village.

He could almost envision what had happened. Her destitute uncle, desperate to better his standing, had decided to use his beautiful niece to his advantage by marrying her off to someone wealthier and better landed. Rosaleen had balked, her guardian had promptly tried to beat her into submission, and she had escaped and ended up at this inn. And with him.

“On your way to London, you say? What do you imagine awaits you there? You don’t think to petition the king for aid, I hope.” Hugh chuckled at her surprised expression. “The king would never grant you an audience, sweet, despite your admirable charms, and he would certainly never take your part over your uncle’s. Or did you think to find some other kind of refuge there?”

Rosaleen understood very well what he meant, and the suggestion that she would seek any man’s protection in return for her favors angered her.

“I have relatives in London,” she said, speaking the truth. Through her father, who had been the head of his family as well as the Earl of Siere, she had innumerable and very important relatives at court. The thought of not being received by the king, or at least by one of his regents, was laughable, though she wasn’t about to tell this strange man that.

Her answer brought him a look of relief. “Relatives,” he murmured. “Good. Much better than the other roads left you. Though with your beauty you’d no doubt end up in court, anyway.” As a leman, he left unsaid.

“I’m so glad you approve,” she replied dryly. “Now if you don’t mind, Sir…Sir…what is your name?”

Hugh rose from the bed with fluid grace. “It’s Hugh. Hugh Caldwell.” He lifted a pile of clothes off a chair and returned to place them on the bed. “At your service, my lady,” he added mockingly, with a slight bow.

Rosaleen gazed up at his towering, muscular figure. “I perceive that I owe you a debt of thanks, Sir Hugh, and I-”

“Not Sir Hugh,” he stated tersely.

She looked at him with incomprehension. “But, you are a knight, are you not?”

“God forbid!” he said with feeling. “I am nothing more than what you see. Just Hugh Caldwell.” He strode to the open window and gazed out of it. “And you may dress now, if it pleases you.”

Rosaleen glanced at the clothes he’d left beside her.

“But these—”

“Aren’t your clothes,” he finished, still gazing out the window. “I know that. Your clothes were soaked with blood, thanks to your guardian’s treatment of you and to your own foolishness in venturing out in your condition. They were ruined, and I had to throw them away. Those belonged to the innkeeper’s daughter. I bought them.” He glanced at her and shrugged. “They’ll be a little large on you, but they’ll do.” He turned his gaze skyward again. “There’s a girdle to secure them with.”

Silence reigned in the room for a full minute, until Rosaleen finally cleared her throat to gain his attention. He spared her another short glance from where he looked out the window.

“What?”

“I wish to dress,” she said as lightly as she could, hoping he would understand.

“And so you may.”

“Alone,” she clarified. “Or with the help of the maid, if you don’t mind.”

He smiled. “I don’t mind at all, sweeting, save there is no maid and I’ll not leave this room. You have about three minutes to get yourself dressed without me watching, so I advise you use them well.”

“But…at least send up the woman who helped me to undress in the first place!”

This time he actually laughed. “I’m the one who undressed you, sweet. If you desire my assistance, I’ll be more than glad to help. If you don’t, you’d best do as I advised earlier.”

Being possessed of an amazingly quick mind, Rosaleen grabbed the clothes and began to dress in a hurry. She wasn’t entirely successful, for she was not used to being dressed without help, and her back still pained her with the misery of slowly healing wounds. The underclothes provided, she discovered with dismay, were made of rough wool and not of the soft, supple silk she always wore. When she pulled the surcot over her head, her arms somehow got tangled in the cloth, and, muttering an angry oath, she found herself unable to get them free.

Hearing her, Hugh Caldwell turned away from the window, took in her half-clad figure with a shake of his head and strode to where she sat struggling helplessly. Grasping the light blue surcot, which matched the color of her eyes, he tugged it over her head and down her body, freeing her arms, then he snatched up the girdle to fasten it around her waist. “Your guardian was able to afford a maid to lend you aid in dressing, it seems,” he commented rather pointedly. “You clearly aren’t used to doing it yourself.” He knelt to fasten the overlarge leather boots on her feet.

“My maid was a girl who came from the village,” Rosaleen said truthfully, though guiltily. Jeanne had lived in the village, but Castle Siere had more than eighty other servants who had come from all parts of England.

Hugh nodded. “I see.” He strode to the window again. Once there, he leaned out, saw something he had evidently been looking for and turned back into the room.

He fixed a leather strap around his left arm and sent a sharp whistle out the window. With a great deal of flapping, a compact, fierce-looking gyrfalcon settled on his wrist, and he drew her into the room.

“Sweet baby,” he cooed to the magnificent creature. “Little darling. My beautiful Amazon.”

Rosaleen sat on the bed, her hands in her lap, and watched with interest as Hugh Caldwell filled his mouth with water from a nearby cup, then bent his handsome head to let the bird drink the liquid as it dripped slowly from his lips. When the hunter had drunk her fill, Hugh Caldwell began to hum a little tune to her, over and over, the same simple tones in repetition, which kept the wild bird entranced so that he could set a hood over her head. Once the hood was fixed the bird was perfectly docile, and he proceeded to handle her deftly, tightening the jesses on her legs and setting her on the back of a chair to perch while he went about packing his things.

“She’s beautiful,” Rosaleen murmured appreciatively.

In the midst of stuffing his lute into a traveling bag, Hugh paused. His head shot up and he grinned at her. “You know about birds, then?”

“Oh, yes,” she replied without thinking. “I’ve many fine birds of my own at—” she stopped herself just in time “-home.”

“Do you? I used to have several myself, when I was a lad. Amazon’s been with me this past year. She’s quite young yet.”

Rosaleen looked at the bird with open admiration. In her mews at Siere there were many fine hunting birds, and she was skilled in using them during hunts, but never had she seen a more promising gyrfalcon than the one Hugh Caldwell possessed. It occurred to her that there was more to him than met the eye. Perhaps he wasn’t a knight, but no ordinary man could possibly possess such a creature, or afford one, either.

“She hasn’t any bells,” she commented, still watching as he continued to pack his things.

Hugh didn’t stop this time as he tied the strings of his bag together. “No, she hasn’t,” he replied, straightening and lifting Amazon from her perch. “Well then, Rosaleen no-name,” he said as he toted the bag up over one shoulder, “goodbye. It has been more pleasant than I could ever say, and I do hope you’ll find your way to London with ease.”

He started for the door, and Rosaleen shot up off the bed.

“What!” she shrieked.

He stopped just in front of the door.

“I said goodbye.”

“I know what you said! What do you mean by it?”

His expression was openly bewildered. “I mean goodbye. I was not aware there was another meaning to theword.”

“But you cannot mean to say that you’re leaving!”

“I can’t?”

“Well, no, of course not! I’m not ready to go. I haven’t yet eaten to break my fast, and I don’t know where my things are, though perhaps you’ve taken care of that already. They were on my mount, and you have taken care of my horse, have you not?”

“Ah, no, I haven’t,” Hugh replied. “I didn’t even know you had a horse.”

“Of course I had a horse!” she stated, wondering at how slow-witted he was. “How do you think I came to be here otherwise? Oh Lord!” she said with a groan. “I imagine he must have been stolen. I was in such a state when I arrived here that I didn’t even think to stable him. Everything I had was on him. All my money, my change of clothing, everything!”

“Well, that’s a stroke of bad luck, Rosaleen, and I’m sorry,” Hugh said sincerely. “Listen, I’ve a good bit of money at the moment. I’d be happy to give you enough to help you get started…”

But Rosaleen wasn’t listening to him. She cut him off with an imperious wave of her hand. “Never mind. It’s too late to cry over what’s been done, and it was my own fault, really, for not stabling the beast. You shall simply have to purchase another mount for me, and I shall have to make do with the clothes you’ve provided until we arrive in London.”

Hugh blinked rapidly, certain he hadn’t heard right. “We?” he repeated.

Rosaleen paced the room. “I shall need clean linen to cover my hair, and a brush, of course. If you would go now and ask the innkeeper’s wife to bring me those two items along with some bread and cheese, I shall shortly be ready to leave.” She stopped pacing and glanced at him. “You may make the arrangements for my mount while I’m eating.”

When he simply stood there and stared at her, Rosaleen fluttered her hands as if to shoo him on his way. “Hurry, Hugh Caldwell. We’ve no time to waste. My uncle will be looking everywhere for me, so we must be on our way at once. How many days do you think it will take us to reach London?”

“Far fewer than you think, lady,” Hugh replied stiffly. “I’m not taking you to London.”

“But of course you are. You have to.”

“What I have to do, sweet, is get myself on my way. I’ve surprised even myself by playing the gallant and watching over you these past two days, but don’t think I’ve a mind to do any more. Now, I’m willing to leave you enough gold to get you to London, but that’s all I’m willing to do. Take it or leave it.”

“Your sense of humor is not only badly timed,” Rosaleen chided, “it is sadly improper.”

“And your understanding, mistress, is slower than a turtle’s pace. What makes you think I’d take you to London?”

God’s mercy! Rosaleen thought with irritation. The man was as dense as a tree. “How can you ask such a thing?

Surely you know your duty as a gentleman!”

Shock possessed Hugh’s features for a long, silent moment, and then, quite suddenly, he began to laugh. “My duty as a what? As a gentleman? God’s bones, mistress, but it’s been a long while since I’ve been so amused. I’ve already told you that I am no chivalrous knight, and if you could possibly think me gentle then you must have no care whatsoever for what passed between us last night in that bed behind you.”

Rosaleen gasped out loud. “What!”

Hugh’s laughter died into a very masculine grin, and he fixed her with a decidedly warm gaze. “Do you not remember, little one? Do you remember nothing at all? Or did you think perhaps you had only dreamed it? You were so sweet and warm, so responsive, that I would have wagered all I own that you’d not forget a single moment of what we shared.”

“Oh!” Rosaleen cried. “Oh! You’re lying! They were dreams!”

Hugh lowered his bag and set Amazon atop it to perch. Then he straightened and very slowly approached Rosaleen, who backed away from him. “They were not dreams, sweeting, and I should be most happy to renew your memory, if you like. Now, do you still think me gentle? Do you still wish to spend all those lonely nights on the road to London with me?”

Rosaleen rounded the other side of the bed, moving away from him as quickly as he followed. She wasn’t frightened of him, she was furious. In fact, she wanted to kill him.

“You swine! You despicable knave! How dare you! How could you! I was a maiden, you wretched beast! I-I’ll have you hanged for this!”

Hugh stopped and chuckled. “You truly don’t remember, do you, sweet? I may be a knave and a swine, but I’m not so base that I’d take advantage of a half-conscious female. If you were a maiden last night then you are a maiden still.”

“And I may be an ignorant girl, Hugh Caldwell, but I’m not a fool!” she cried. “You touched me!”

Hugh inclined his head. “ ‘Struth, I did indeed touch you, lovely Rosaleen, and enjoyed every moment. But touch is all I did. You were restless and cried in your sleep. I only tried to comfort you. That’s all. Most gentlemanly of me, do you not think?”

Rosaleen didn’t believe him. The memories she had of his hands and mouth moving over her were dim, true, but they were there all the same. “You did m-more than t-touch me, you lecherous fiend!”

Hugh’s grin was fully masculine. “A little more, yes, my lady. I considered it repayment for my kindness in taking care of you.” He eyed her appreciatively. “Verily, sweeting, I have never been so pleased with any recompense in my life. Shall we get started for London, then?”

“You’re an animal!” she shouted, pointing at the door. “Leave then, you wretched, unchivalrous rat! Get out! I wouldn’t go one step in your company, you…you…ravisher!” Hugh laughed and turned toward the door. In a rage, Rosaleen followed. “And when I get to London, I’ll have a warrant put out for you, signed by the king’s own hand, you…you…defiler! I swear by God’s holy name, I shall!”

“Good lack, woman! If this is the kind of abuse you heaped upon your uncle’s head, it isn’t a wonder he beat you so!” He stopped at a small table near the door and dug his coin bag out of his tunic. “Here,” he said, placing several coins down. “I shouldn’t be so merciful to such a shrew, but this ought to be enough to—”

“How dare you!” she screeched from right behind him, so that when Hugh turned he bumped into her. “First you abuse me, you…you…seducer! And then you try to pay me off like the veriest whore, you…you…”

“God’s bones, I did not ravish you!” Hugh insisted, barely ducking in time when she picked up the coins and threw them at his head. “Calm yourself, Rosaleen! I only meant to help you, not hand you an insult.”

“The only way you can help me is to get out of my sight!”

“All right, all right! I’m going!” He picked up Amazon and reshouldered his bag. “First you say I can’t go, and then you throw me out. What a wild creature you are, Rosaleen no-name. Your gratitude for my care these past two days is overwhelming, indeed.”

“Oh!” she gasped, taking a swing at him. “How dare you, you…you… great randy goat! If you think to wait until I thank you for deflowering me, then you’ll be waiting until Satan’s breath blows cold!”

“I did not,” he said with growing anger, “deflower you! If you don’t quiet yourself, my sweet, I’m going to take you back to that bed and show you exactly what I did do!”

“Get out!” she shouted. “And when you get downstairs I wish you to send up one of the friends who stood with you the other night. Surely one of them will be chivalrous enough to help a lady in plight.”

“You are quite right, my lady. Any one of my friends would have been pleased to play the good chivalrous fellow for you, more fool they, but they are gone, having left yesterday morn, as I, myself, should have done and now wish to God that I had!” He drew in a breath, then said more calmly, “I fear you shall have to seek London on your own, as you did before you ever came to this place.”

Rosaleen froze, staring at him in surprise, as though he had struck her, and then she did the inexplicable. Her face crumpled and her eyes filled with tears.

“But I can’t.”

Hugh looked away, thoroughly aggravated. “You were planning on going alone before,” he said gruffly. “If you’d let me leave you a little money you could still do it.” It was a damned lie, and he knew it. A woman on the open road, alone, was as defenseless to every rogue and knave who came her way as a newborn mouse might be against Amazon.

She shook her head and spoke more to herself than to him. “I learned very well two nights ago that I will need protection. I must get to London. I must.” She turned and walked back to the bed, wringing her hands. Sitting on the mattress, she bowed her head and was quiet.

Hugh cleared his throat. “Well, you’ll be fine. Goodbye, Rosaleen. Good luck.”

She said nothing, only kept her head bowed. Her fingers laced and unlaced in a worried rhythm.

“I said goodbye, Rosaleen. Godspeed.”

“Yes, yes,” she mumbled tearfully. “Goodbye.”

He opened the door and walked out, shaking his head to rid it of the memory of her sitting so unhappily on the edge of the same bed where he had spent some exceedingly enjoyable hours with her. Well, he’d be damned if he’d feel guilty about that, he told himself as he made his way down the stairs to the main room. She had enjoyed herself quite as much as he had, though she didn’t remember it yet. And he had considered it repayment for all the trouble he’d gone through. There wasn’t anything wrong with that. She was a beautiful girl; any other man would have used her much differently had he had the chance.

The innkeeper was standing behind his serving board when Hugh walked in, and the little man smiled in greeting.

“Well, sir, are you on your way, then?”

“Yes, I’m on my way,” Hugh replied. “The lady is feeling better this morn, and would like some food to break her fast with. She also wishes the use of a brush and needs clean linen to cover her hair. See that she has all she desires.” He tossed the innkeeper a couple of gold coins and watched with disdain as the man pocketed the money with lusty greed.

“That I will, my lord,” the man promised quickly. “The lady be well satisfied, I vow. Will there be anything else, my lord?”

Hugh gave the man a considering glance and wondered how far he could trust him. The innkeeper was willing enough now, when a fighting man was present, but how would Rosaleen fare once he’d ridden away? Aside from that, he hated the way the man spoke of her, as though Rosaleen were naught but a whore flaunting herself as something better.

He struggled for a long moment, telling himself sternly that he was going to regret this. If he only could have expelled the image of her sitting so defeated and miserable on the edge of that damned bed, he might have won.

“The lady,” he said curtly, emphasizing the word, “will need a good mount. Is there anyone in this godforsaken village who owns a decent horse he’d be willing to sell?”