Page 11 of His Betrothed
He released her at once, and she placed the tray on the ground.
“You need to lie down. You’re not strong enough to be about.”
Again he laughed with little humor. “But you’re strong, aren’t you? Imust have been dead weight when you…disrobed me.”
She felt a blush steal across her features and thanked God the sun had set so Thornton couldn’t see. She could barely admit to herself that she’d studied his nakedness as if she’d never seen a man before.
“If you saw everything,” he continued, the quirk in his mouth dying, “was I wearing a pouch strapped to my chest?”
“No.”
She didn’t hesitateto withhold the truth, even though she saw the brief look of despair in his eyes. She had forgotten all about the pouch, and hoped it was still buried in the grass beneath him. She needed to examine it before she gave it back to him, to determine if he was a spy.
She put her arm around his back, and he half hopped, half dragged himself to the stool.
Thornton had already wandered away once—hehad almost done so again. What if he told people she was caring for him? Her parents could discover where she was, and make her leave the only place she’d ever felt safe.
Roselyn took a deep breath. “This arrangement isn’t working out.”
“Arrangement?” His black eyebrows rose. “You sound as if I’m renting lodgings from you.”
“I’m sorry, but it’s getting too hard to keep running down here. I’mthe village baker, and I have duties I can no longer neglect. You need to come home with me where I can better…care for you.” And she could retrieve the pouch.
But she felt heat suffuse her body at the thought of having him alone in her cottage. She vividly remembered the feel of his leg between hers. What was wrong with her?
“You should eat, regain your strength a bit, and then we’ll go.”
“Now?”
“We cannot go during the day; someone might see you.”
He questioned her no more, just looked thoughtful as he ate his meat pie. After lighting the lantern, she felt that watching him eat was suddenly too intimate, so she glanced out the window.
He took a last swallow of ale and handed her the tankard. “Are you ready, Rose? Forgive me, but I’ll have to lean on you.”
Nowhe treated hercordially, though she was but a stranger to him. When she was his betrothed, a frightened young girl, he’d been cruel. She would not forget.
“Very well, Mr. Thornton,” she said, remembering not to use his title, which simple Rose Grant wouldn’t know. She took his hands and placed them on her shoulders, trying not to notice the warmth of his callused palms. “Use me to stand.”
With a grunt ofexertion he rose up on his good leg. Wincing at the pressure on her shoulders, she slid beneath his arm.
She reached for the lantern and blew out the candle, saying, “I can’t have the bailiff seeing us—unless you’d like to be taken in and nursed by his family.”
“You are doing a fine job,” he said—too quickly.
He obviously didn’t want anyone else to know where he was.
Together they set offacross the estate, guided only by the moon and Roselyn’s sure knowledge of her home. In every shadow she thought she saw the villagers watching them, prepared to spread the word that she was housing a strange man. Perhaps John had been suspicious, and still lingered nearby. It was difficult to put her nervousness aside, especially when the hair on the back of her neck prickled with strange awareness.Wassomeone out there in the darkness?
A quarter hour had not passed before Thornton’s breath was rasping in his chest, and his perspiration soaked her clothing. Finally shesaw the faint light in the window of her cottage, and she breathed a shuddering sigh of relief. She pushed open her door and almost dragged him inside.
Awkwardly holding him while leaning over, she pulled a bench away fromthe table. “Sit here, Mr. Thornton. Give me a moment to prepare a pallet for you.”
She brought her own goose-feather mattress from the loft and made his bed in the corner closest to the hearth. She could make herself another mattress on the morrow.
As she helped him to his feet, he staggered forward and slung both arms over her shoulders in the semblance of an intimate embrace. She felt herselfblush as her face was pressed to his chest, and she had no choice but to grip his waist to keep him upright.
“Forgive me,” he murmured into her hair.
