His Runaway Maiden (2 page)

‘You are quite mad,’ she said in a shaken voice.

‘If I am, then I have been driven mad.’

She had spoken those very words to her father once and he had sunk his head in his hands. She had stared in anguish, watching his shoulders shake before he had waved a hand at her in dismissal. She, too, had wept as she had left the room. She could not believe this stranger could have descended to the depths that she had and that caused her to spit out at him.

‘You mock me! I do not like having my word doubted. It is you who are the thief. Return that short-sword to me at once. It belonged to my dead brother and it is all I have of him.’

The lad sounded so sincere that Alex almost believed him. But then he reminded himself that he had heard many a word spoken in so-called sincerity. ‘I will return it at my convenience,’ he said coldly.

Rosamund felt a familiar helplessness creep over her. She told herself that she must not give in to the lowness of spirits that had gripped her so often in the past. She remembered how she had managed to overcome those dark moods by riding out on her beautiful horse. The one that Edward, her elder stepbrother, had removed from the stable after her father’s death. She had not been allowed beyond the gardens after that and there had been times when life was so utterly unbearable that she had given vent to her anger by smashing many a jar. Then they had locked her in her bedchamber and she had resorted
to the submissive behaviour that had served her well in the past. But she was in no mood to act so at the moment. After all, she was supposed to be a brave youth, not a fearful girl.

‘I should have left you lying on the ground and ridden over you,’ she seethed. ‘Instead, I behaved like a Christian, and what thanks do I receive? You treat me like a cur.’ She glowered at him, thinking that she would have her revenge when they reached Lathom. She would call on the guards to take this foreigner prisoner.

‘If you wish for better treatment, Master Wood, I suggest you only speak when spoken to,’ said Alex.

He tugged on the rope and she went flying into him. He picked her up as if she weighed no more than a bundle of rags and threw her into the saddle. As Rosamund grappled for the reins, Old Betsy let out a deep sigh and seemed to sag in the middle. The next moment Rosamund was almost dragged off her horse as Alex swung up on to his own mount.

‘This is intolerable!’ Her voice shook. ‘What is your reason for wishing to go to Appleby Manor, anyway?’

‘That is none of your business, lad,’ said said Alex, giving her some slack. ‘Take me there and I might even reward you.’

She wanted to give him a hot answer, but her sense of desolation was suddenly such that she knew if she spoke she would burst into tears and that would never do. She felt another jerk on the rope.

‘You are supposed to be leading the way,’ he said.

Rosamund darted him a poisonous look.

‘Forgive me if I appear overly cautious, Master Wood, but one has difficulty these days even trusting one’s friends,’ said Alex. That slight inflection was evident in his
voice and once again Rosamund was oddly affected by it. ‘Now tell your horse to walk on,’ he added.

Rosamund did so. Then she spent several seconds imagining the moment when he would get his comeuppance. Then the reality of her situation struck her and the corners of her mouth drooped. A mournful sigh escaped her.

Alex gave her a sidelong glance and felt a stir of pity at the sight of such abject misery. Then he hardened his heart. Pity could have no place in his armoury. The youth had lied to him. He could be all that he had accused him of being, but Alex was prepared to risk that to discover if Harry and Ingrid were at Appleby Manor.

They rode on in silence between high, bare hedgerows until they reached an open aspect. Suddenly Alex had a growing conviction that he had passed this way before. When he recognised the walls of Lathom ahead, he turned on his companion and pulled on the cord, causing Rosamund to almost tumble from the horse.

‘Do you take me for a fool, Master Wood?’ roared Alex. ‘This is not Appleby Manor, but Lathom House!’

Rosamund managed to grab the pommel and heave herself back into the saddle. ‘You could have killed me!’ she cried.

‘But I didn’t,’ snapped Alex. ‘What jape is this you play? I left this place only a couple of hours ago.’

His words took Rosamund utterly by surprise. ‘What were you doing at the Earl of Derby’s mansion?’

‘That is none of your business.’ His eyes flashed golden fire ‘Answer my question or I’ll cut your throat. Why have you brought me here?’

‘I—I have no w-wish to return to A-Appleby Manor,’ she stuttered. ‘They would kill me.’

Alex gazed into the delicate features and his anger abated. ‘Why? What wrong have you done?’

Rosamund felt her ire rising again. ‘Why do you believe it is I who am in the wrong when I am fleeing for my life?’

Alex frowned. ‘Because, Master Wood, I deem you are no woodcutter, which means you lied to me.’

She felt sick with fear. ‘Wh-what evidence do you have to make such an accusation?’

Alex smiled humourlessly. ‘Your stature is enough. It takes strength to chop down trees, Master Wood—you look more suited to needlepoint. Tell me, who is it you fear at Appleby Manor?’

Rosamund had no intention of telling him. After all, he could be in the pay of her stepbrother, Edward Fustian, who had dealings in London with foreigners.

‘Why should I answer your question when you will not answer mine?’ she muttered.

‘Because I am the stronger, little bantam.’

‘You mean you would bully me like you have already done in order to have your own way,’ she said sullenly.

He raised his tawny eyebrows. ‘I beg pardon if I have hurt you,’ he said in a mocking voice. ‘But if you do not wish to take me to Appleby Manor, then answer my questions.’

‘Will you let me go if I do?’

‘If I judge you are telling me the truth. Who dwells there?’

Rosamund could see no harm in answering him. ‘The family is small and consists of Lady Monica Appleby and her son William. She has another son who lives in London.’

This news was not what Alex had hoped to hear. ‘What of Sir James?’

‘Dead!’

The news came as something of a shock.

Rosamund saw that he paled beneath his tanned skin. ‘You knew Sir James?’ she asked.

Alex pulled himself together. ‘I met him only the once.’

‘You seem very shocked by the news, sir.’

‘Indeed, I am. I had hoped to gain information from him. When did he die?’

‘Six months ago.’ Her expression was bleak.

That news was a further shock. ‘I met him shortly before he died,’ said Alex. ‘He made no mention that he had two sons.’

‘That is because they are
not
his sons, but belong to his second wife, Lady Monica.’ Rosamund watched his expression alter and wondered what this information was that he had wanted from her father, but she did not see how she could be of help to him on that score. ‘Did you meet him in London?’

‘Aye, and that is where I must go now. I will risk showing you some trust. Are you able to guide me out of this palatine and set me on the road to that city? I will pay you to act as my guide.’

She shook her head. ‘No! I can’t come with you. I have business at Lathom House.’

Alex scowled. ‘So that is why you brought me here. I don’t care what your business is, you will guide me out of this backwater or you will be sorry.’

Alarmed, she said, ‘I will do what you say if you answer me one question. Did you speak to Lady Elizabeth Stanley whilst you were at Lathom?’

Alex’s suspicions were immediately roused. ‘Why do you ask, lad? What business do you have with the lady?’

Rosamund knew if she told him the truth, then he would know for certain that she had deceived him. ‘It is a private matter.’

‘I wager it is,’ said Alex silkily. ‘Well, I will not keep secret from you that the lady and her entourage left yesterday afternoon for London.’

Rosamund’s spirits plummeted. Her hope in coming here was all in vain. What was she to do now?

Watching the dismay cloud Master Wood’s face, Alex had the strangest feeling that he was right to be suspicious of this slender youth and determined to discover more about him. ‘If you still wish to speak to the lady, then I suggest you accompany me to London.’

Rosamund knew that she should not agree to his suggestion. Yet, he was giving her a second chance to gain the help of her godmother. Would it be a bigger mistake not to agree? On the other hand, was it crazy to even consider going with him? He was a foreigner who had almost choked the life out of her. This should have told her, if aught else didn’t, that he was a dangerous man. No, it would be sheer folly to fall in with his plan.

She tilted her chin. ‘I do not wish to go with you! In fact, I refuse to do so!’ She dug her heels into Betsy’s flanks. The horse jerked forward and then collapsed.

R
osamund’s shock was intense. She barely had time to kick her feet free of the stirrups before she felt a tug on her wrist as Alex bent over and lifted her from the saddle. He lowered her to the ground before dismounting and hunkering down beside the horse. He placed his hand on the beast’s neck and held it there for several moments before looking up at her.

‘I’m sorry, Master Wood, but your horse is dead.’

Rosamund fell on her knees besides the horse and a sob burst from her. She stroked the horse’s head before burying her face against its shaggy coat to hide her tears. ‘Poor Betsy,’ she whispered.

Alex gazed down at the bent head and the exposed slender neck. Had he imagined that sob? What conclusions could he draw from it? He could recall having difficulty holding back tears when his first pony had died. Grieving for a beloved horse was natural. Perhaps he was mistaken to have considered even for a moment that this uncommon youth was a thief.

‘We are presented with a problem, Master Wood,’ he said. ‘I am short of time, but you are without a mount. What do you want to do?’

Rosamund turned a tearstained face towards him. ‘You are giving me a choice?’

Alex wondered if he was being overly sympathetic, but told himself that it was important that he discovered what Master Wood’s business was with her ladyship. ‘I need to go to London. You wish to speak with Lady Elizabeth, who is on her way there. Someone is bound to pass this way and they will find your horse and do what is necessary.’

Rosamund wiped her face with the back of her hand and rose to her feet. ‘I will walk to London,’ she said in a small voice.

Alex frowned. His suspicions, his common sense and his sympathy for a fellow human being in such a situation were at war with each other. ‘You will not catch up with the lady on the road, Master Wood. I doubt I will do so on horseback. Besides, it will take you a long time to walk to London. If your strength does not fail you and you are not attacked by robbers and you manage to reach your destination, it is even possible that you might find the lady not at home. What would you do then?’

‘I had not thought so far ahead.’ She heaved a deep sigh.

‘You must make a decision.’

Rosamund lifted her head and saw a look in his eyes that surprised her. ‘Are you suggesting that I share your horse?’ she asked.

‘I do not have all day, Master Wood,’ said Alex, untying the cord at her wrist. ‘If I were in your situation, I wouldn’t
accept my offer. But of course, it would depend on how desperate I was to speak to Lady Elizabeth.’

Rosamund was extremely desperate. If she stayed here, who was to say that her stepmother and her men would not find her as soon as he left? Of course, in London there was the risk of being seen by Edward.

‘If you are going to decide to come with me, we must make a move now,’ rasped Alex. ‘The horse will not be able to travel swiftly carrying the two of us and I need to be in London by the twenty-second of this month.’

‘Why are you so keen to help me?’ asked Rosamund suspiciously.

He shrugged. ‘You are a fellow traveller and did not our Lord say we should help one another?’

‘You have not particularly behaved like a Christian so far,’ Rosamund dared to say. ‘But what choice do I have? I pray that you will prove to be the better of my options.’

‘I am truly honoured by your confidence in me,’ said Alex drily.

Rosamund flushed and could only hope that he did not guess her secret. So far he appeared not to have penetrated her disguise and God willing he would never do so.

‘But any wrong moves, such as trying to remove your weapon from my belt, Master Wood, and you’re in trouble. I’m not so naïve as to believe you might not try.’

The thought had not occurred to her. ‘I give you my word!’

‘The word of a liar!’ His gold-brown eyes flashed fire. ‘I will be on my guard. I have not forgotten waking up with such a headache that I could not remember where I was or who I was and had a knife wound in my shoulder that almost killed me.’

Rosamund’s curiosity was roused. ‘Who was the person that did this to you? Perhaps you gave them such a dislike of your boorish behaviour that they feared what you might do next.’

Alex growled, ‘Watch your mouth, lad. Ingrid knew I trusted her and that was why she was able to betray me.’ He pulled himself up short. What was he thinking of, speaking of a matter that had cut him to the heart to this—this—? He bent over her. His nose twitched as the feather in Master Wood’s hat tickled his nostrils and he sneezed, then swore. ‘I hope you are not going to make me regret my offer, but you will come to no harm, unless you give me real cause to slit your throat.’

Rosamund went as white as a sheet beneath her dirt. ‘I will do exactly as you say,’ she said in a trembling voice. ‘I like my throat as it is.’

I must be mad, thought Alex. Gaining information from this one could cause me more trouble than it is worth. Yet he felt a monster for frightening this slender youth. Yet his brush with death six months ago had proved to him the dangers of allowing anyone to get too close to him.

Taking a blanket from a saddlebag, he formed it into a kind of cushion. Then he told Master Wood he would give him a leg up. Rosamund placed a foot in his laced hands and gripped his shoulder. She felt his muscles bunch and thought with a man as strong as him on her side, she would not need to fear her stepfamily again. Then she asked herself what was she thinking of even to consider he could be an ally?

As soon as she was up on the horse, Alex climbed into the saddle. ‘Now which direction do we take to reach the
London road?’ he asked, thinking he would not be in this situation now if he had asked for a guide before leaving Lathom House, instead of just directions.

‘Take the left-hand turn,’ replied Rosamund.

As he took the turning, she was jerked against him and needed to clutch his cloak if she was not to slide from the horse. Suddenly she felt far removed from her previous existence and excitement stirred inside her. Even so, after a while, she began to feel apprehensive and questioned whether she had made the right decision. They would be on the road for days and that meant spending nights with this man.

‘I want information,’ said Alex, aware of those small hands on his back and the soft breath on his neck. ‘Tell me—how did Sir James die?’

‘It happened when he was in London. Lady Monica told me that it was an apoplexy, but I did not believe her. Far—’ Rosamund clamped her mouth shut on the word and recalled how often she had been told
to watch her tongue or keep silent and no one is going to believe what a mad girl has to say.

‘Why do you not believe her?’

‘If I say what I think, you might accuse me of being mad,’ she said in a toneless voice.

‘Why should I believe you mad?’ he asked.

She did not answer him immediately, remembering vividly Edward accusing her of being possessed by demons. In her loneliness, she had created an imaginary companion to whom she talked. He had overheard her and taunted her. She had screamed her denial and flew at him. He had knocked her to the ground and then dragged her by her hair to his mother. Lady Monica had locked Rosamund
in her bedchamber for three days and nights and fed her solely on dry bread and water. Rosamund had threatened that she would tell her father what they had done to her when he returned home. But her stepmother had said that Sir James would agree with their actions because he knew his daughter was mad, but pretended not to notice her strange behaviour because he was ashamed of her. So again, she had kept her mouth shut, wanting her father to love her and hoping that the next time he went away they would remember her silence and she would suffer less at their hands.

‘Answer me!’ demanded Alex.

‘If I told you that I believed he was murdered, then you might agree with them that it was a figment of my fevered imagination,’ she said in a fierce voice.

‘Murdered! By “them” I presume you mean those that live at Appleby Manor?’

‘Perhaps, but I will say no more and you cannot make me do so. Even if you were to dismount and drag me from this horse and beat me.’

What a strange mixture was this youth, thought Alex. One moment he is frightened of me and prepared to do what I say, but the next he speaks out bravely and it is obvious that he can be stubborn. He seriously considered the possibility that the youth had been beaten before in an attempt to gain information from him or for punishment. Another thought struck him. A father might beat an effeminate son, or—even a daughter who dressed as a youth. But the thought that bothered him most was that his travelling companion suspected Sir James of having been murdered in London. Was it possible? And if so—why?

He thought of Harry and recalled how when he had rescued him that he had been unable to remember whether he had once had siblings. Harry’s earliest memory was of the cupboard-like space on the ship, where he had woken with a sore head and a frightening loss of identity.

Alex’s thoughts were interrupted by his sudden awareness that Master Wood must have dozed off. His head was going bump, bump, bump against his shoulder. Alex reached behind him and seized the front of the youth’s doublet and bellowed at him to rouse himself.

Rosamund started awake and at first could not think where she was and then the motion of the horse and the scent of the man filled her nostrils. She realised that her face was squashed against his shoulder and she found herself breathing in the smell of sandalwood and his maleness with an unfamiliar pleasure. Then she realised he was holding on to the material at her chest. Feeling hot all over, she tugged herself free. What if he had felt her breast despite the binding? Her secret would be out.

‘Stay awake, Master Wood,’ ordered Alex. ‘What good is a sleeping guide to me?’

Rosamund said gruffly, ‘It will not happen again.’

‘It had better not.’

After that incident Rosamund made certain that she stayed awake. It amazed her that she had managed to fall asleep in such a precarious position and in the company of this foreigner who had threatened her. She forced herself to concentrate on anything but him. She gazed at the frosty landscape and recalled the only time she had travelled to London.

It had been in the company of her father, stepmother and
William. Edward was getting married and Rosamund could not help but pity his future wife, Marion. She remembered how besotted the new Mistress Fustian had been with her husband. Such adoration had not survived. Last time Marion had visited Appleby Manor with their two daughters, Rosamund had noticed the bruising on her neck and wrists. Edward wanted a son and his wife suffered for what he called her lack of success.

It was that kind of behaviour that caused Rosamund to consider spinsterhood preferable to marrying a man such as her stepbrother, although her stepmother had once suggested such a possibility. A long-suppressed memory reared its dragon-like head and she quickly quashed it. There were some things it was better not to dwell upon and fortunately her father had been against such a match.

The temperature had dropped by the time they crossed the border into the Palatine of Chester and the sun had disappeared below the horizon. Soon it would be dark and Rosamund was worried. Surely they should have reached an inn by now, but the road stretched ahead of them with no sign of a building.

Alex’s thoughts were running in a similar direction and he twisted in the saddle to speak to his travelling companion. He had difficulty in making out the slender features beneath the brim of the hat. ‘Have you any idea where the nearest inn is, Master Wood?’

‘It is some time since I passed this way,’ answered Rosamund. ‘I was certain we should have reached the one I had in mind by now, but I must be mistaken. Still, I am
certain if we continue along this road then we will come to another sooner or later.’

‘If this is the main London road, then that is likely,’ said Alex, exacerbated. ‘I would know how far we have to go.’

‘I cannot help you with exact distances.’ She felt irritated by the tone of his voice. ‘We must just travel on.’

‘So be it,’ he growled. ‘Let us hope we don’t have to sleep in the open.’

The idea alarmed her, but she remained silent, not wishing to annoy him further by complaining. Visions of mulled wine, hot broth and a warm bed began to float before her eyes and she was tempted to snuggle into his back to keep warm. She resisted and somehow managed to remain upright.

They continued along the road, watching the silhouettes of trees and hedges merge into the darkness and stars prick the sky. To their dismay, when they finally reached the dark outline of a building Alex had spotted some distance away, it was to discover that it was just a burnt-out shell with charred beams criss-crossed against the sky.

Alex dismounted and wandered about the ruins before returning to his horse. ‘There is nowhere to take shelter here. We must ride on,’ he said brusquely.

He half-expected his companion to complain, but despite being near to tears with disappointment, hunger and weariness, Rosamund remained silent. She pulled her hood over her hat and huddled inside her cloak and prayed that they would soon come to another inn.

The wind rose and she was glad of the bulwark his body provided. Frantically, she tried to remember whether there were any other places where they could take shelter. For a
while nothing occurred to her and no inns hovered into view. At least she could be thankful that the moon had risen. By its light she noticed an odd-shaped escarpment ahead. Suddenly she remembered her father mentioning to William that there were old mine workings in the sandstone that formed the roots of this area.

‘Master…’ She paused remembering that the stranger had still not introduced himself, and then added, ‘No Name, I believe there are caves somewhere around here.’ Her voice sounded loud in the eerie silence. ‘If I remember rightly, copper used to be mined in this area hundreds of years ago.’

Alex, who had been keeping his eyes peeled for even a hovel, hoped his companion was right. His horse would be too exhausted to travel the following day if they persisted on riding through the night. ‘Can you remember exactly where these caves are, Master Wood?’