Page 10 of His Betrothed
Chapter 3
Late the next afternoon, Roselyn worked in her bake house preparing supper. She felt tired and uneasy, and told herself the cause could only be Thornton.
At the sound of footsteps outside the door she gasped and whirled, holding a knife, her heart pounding.
John Heywood stopped in the doorway, his smile fading. “Roselyn?”
The knife dropped from her shaking hands and barely missedher foot. She ran her hands over her face and gave John a tremulous smile. What had she been thinking? Was she so on edge that she imagined enemies following her about the island?
“John, you startled me,” she said lamely, picking up the knife. “I have felt…uneasy all day.”
“It is understandable with a war going on so near.”
He came toward her and she tried to relax, to remember how happy sheusually was to see him. He was the eldest Heywood son, of average height and spare from hard work, and his hands could work miracles out of wood. More and more he had taken to visiting her, to dropping hints about marriage, even though he knew they could only be handfasted, not legally married in the church.
She felt comfortable with him, and she’d begun to think that that was as good as lovecould ever get.
But to see him now, when Thornton was so near, only made her nervous.
“We’ve been worried about you, Roselyn,” he said, taking the knife from her hand and setting it on the table. “We’ve missed your morning visits.”
“The bread,” she said, shaking her head. “I haven’t brought your order lately.”
“’Tis not the bread we miss. Mother and Charlotte have baked what we need.” He smiledand leaned down to press a quick kiss to her cheek. “We’ve barely seen you. It’s almost as if you’ve gone back into mourning. Twice now, Charlotte has come to practice her baking with you, but you’ve been gone.”
Charlotte was John’s fourteen-year-old sister, and her cheerful companionship had eased Roselyn’s loneliness when she’d first returnedto the island. What if the girl had followed herto the shed?
“You must be working too hard,” John said with a smile. “I’ll have to keep a closer eye on you.”
She usually enjoyed their banter, but now his words made her worry. She could not risk the Heywoods finding Thornton, not if the man could be an enemy. How could she bring such danger on the family she loved?
After John left Roselyn approached the door to the shed, but she couldsee at once that Thornton wasn’t lying where she’d left him. She felt a moment of absolute panic, wondering if he’d truly killed himself this time.
She entered the doorway and gave a sharp cry as a hand grasped her upper arm and pulled her inside. The tray bobbled in her hands as she recognized Thornton, bare-chested and imposing.
He leaned against the wall, standing on one leg and bracing himselfwith the palm of his hand. His whole body trembled as he looked down at her. She realized how truly tall he was, how easily he could overpower her if he chose. In the growing evening darkness, perspiration glistened on his face.
“My leg is broken, isn’t it?” he whispered.
His big hand slid behind her head to tilt herface up to him, and Roselyn caught her breath on a gasp at the shock that wentthrough her.
“I must leave here.” His whisper was almost a hiss. “It’s been five days! I’ve never been so incapacitated. I’m sorry…the word means—”
“I know what it means,” she said coldly.
He held her still, his fingers spread across her skull, his eyes delving into hers. “Yes…” he said softly, “I can see that you do. You’re not a typical country maid.”
“And six days have now passed.”
“Sixdays? I cannot even keep track of such a simple thing!” His mouth turned up in a grim laugh. “I don’t even know whose clothes I’m wearing, or how I got into them.”
“I helped you.”
His gaze focused on her again, and she felt herself tremble as it dipped to her mouth.
“You are quite the nursemaid,” he murmured.
For a moment Roselyn could only remember lying beneath him on the cliffs, his handjust below her breast. Suddenly she couldn’t bear to be near him, because it only made her remember that their fathers had tried to force this intimacy on them. “Please let me set the tray down.”
