Page 30 of His Betrothed
Chapter 9
Battered and bruised, Roselyn ached with exhaustion, but she couldn’t rest until the body was removed from her cottage. It would be hours before she could risk going for a horse.
Thornton sat silently across from her, his food long gone. Was he thankful to have escaped death, or had he killed the Spaniard only to protect himself from exposure?
When he’d washed up on the beach,Thornton had been worried that someone would follow him. She had no proof that this assailant was doing anything else, and she would drive herself mad with endless speculation. But would another Spaniard follow when this one didn’t return?
Thornton’s voice startled her. “Now will you tell me what happened?”
She shrugged. “He came upon me in the bake house and wanted to know who youwere, saidthat he’d been watching us. He said you are no Englishman.”
Thornton’s only response to that was a gleam of a smile in the darkness. “I’ve heard that on more than one occasion, although often the word ‘proper’ preceded ‘Englishman.’”
She didn’t smile. “When I wouldn’t bring him to the cottage, he grew angry.” She was glad it was too dark for Thornton to see her protectively cover her bruisedchest with her arms. “I escaped and ran from him, trying to lead him away from the estate. He caught me and fell on top of me and—” She broke off, wiping her mouth and shuddering.
Thornton didn’t speak, but his tension was clear.
A sudden memory was sharp in her mind, and she spoke slowly. “When he was…insulting me, he said he’d been long at sea.”
“Which is only natural if he came from thearmada,” Thornton said. “I was worried that one of the Spanish ships had seen me survive and sent someone to follow me.”
“But why would they? How could one lone Englishman matter to them?”
He disappointed her by not even hesitating. “Perhaps they thought I carried information to be used against them. Did anything else happen before you arrived at the cottage?”
She shook her head, then proppedher chin in her hand.
“You’re certain he mentioned no one else who’d come with him?”
She nodded.
Thornton studied her closely. “You seem exhausted,” he said in a grudging voice. “You’ve done well today. Lay your head down, and I will awaken you when the time is right.”
She didn’t even bother to protest as she put her head in her arms and fell asleep.
When Roselyn was shaken awake by Thornton,she came up with a gasp, having had vivid dreams of the Spaniard’s leering face.
The peculiar stillness of deep night enfolded her, though off to the east she could hear the faintest crash of waves on the shore.
She stared at the pale outline of Thornton and realized she had not asked him the question that most concerned her. “What did he say?”
“The Spaniard?”
“Just before he died, he spoketo you in Spanish. What did he say?”
“Just that he was going to kill me.”
His voice was deliberate and too controlled. She didn’t believe him, and her doubts threatened to overwhelm her.
“I’ll go for the horse,” she said, pushing herself off the bench.
He looked up at her. “Know that I would do this for you if I could. Be careful.”
She stared into his dark, solemn face, wishing she couldread his expression as she said softly, “I’ll be back soon.”
Once she had reached the stables, Roselyn selected the gentlest mare she could find. Angel had been hers as a child, and would obey her without shying away.
For just a moment she put her arms around the horse’s neck, letting memories of long ago comfort her. Francis had taught her to ride on Angel. She’d spent hours every day exploringthe island on horseback, making endless plans for her life.
