Page 32 of Almost a Bride
“Roselyn.”
She looked over her shoulder at him.
“I need to walk again today.”
She raised an eyebrow and waited. Why didn’t she just nod her head in agreement?
He let out his breath in a sigh. “Would you help me, please?”
She leaned back against the cupboard and folded her arms over her chest. “I could return from my chores in an hour or so and work with you, and then perhaps later in the afternoon again.”
“Thank you,” he said, studying her until she turned away. “And Roselyn, be very careful outside.”
He saw her stiffen, saw the shudder she couldn’t hide.
“Do you think another Spaniard could be out there somewhere?”
“I doubt it. If he had a partner, they would have come together to overwhelm us.”
“I won’t go farther than the bake house,” she murmured, sitting down at the table to break her fast.
~oOo~
After milking the goats, Roselyn was kneading dough in the bake house, wondering if she would ever get over the feeling of being watched. Just when she was starting to relax instead of looking over her shoulder constantly, she heard footsteps in the courtyard.
Her heart suddenly pounding, she picked up a knife and whirled toward the door.
Francis Heywood stood in the doorway, gazing at her in concern. “Lady Roselyn? Is something amiss?”
She set the knife down quickly, hoping he didn’t see her trembling. “No, Francis, you merely startled me.”
He took a step toward her. “I have done that before, and you’ve never felt a need to defend yourself, my dear.”
She gave him a weak grin. “The battle in the channel must have upset me more than I thought.”
He set his hand on hers, his eyes full of concern. “Is that all that’s bothering you, my lady? You have not seemed yourself, and John agrees with me.”
For an insane moment, she wanted to fall into his arms and tell him about Thornton, and spying, and the Spaniard. She was tired of feeling alone and wondering if she was making the right decisions.
But just the memory of the dead Spaniard was enough to keep Roselyn quiet. Francis would insist she come to the house; he would turn Thornton over to the garrison. Since it was frightening to contemplate bringing such danger to the Heywoods, she would have to continue doing this alone.
She smiled and squeezed his hand. “I’m having a hard time realizing that Mary and Philip have been dead a whole year already. I still can’t believe I forgot to visit their grave.”
Francis looked almost disappointed, as if he expected her to say something else. “I was worried you felt this way, my lady. It is only natural for you to go on with your life.”
“I know. Sit with me awhile and keep me company. I’ve missed talking to you.”
~oOo~
The sun had already risen before Roselyn returned to the cottage, with flour covering her apron and a smudge of it across her cheek. She stood above Spencer as he sat at the table, and he was amazed that he felt an urge to chuckle. He would not be swayed by her. She took his elbow to help him up, then pulled his arm across her shoulders. She felt small and fragile, and it made him imagine that Spaniard straddling her, his hands about her neck.
She should still be frightened from her trauma of the previous night, but she seemed no longer affected, and he couldn’t help being impressed by her fortitude.
Outside, she helped him walk from the courtyard to the bake house and back. He noticed that she constantly watched the surrounding estate. Was she worried about another Spaniard—or the Heywoods?
Since he didn’t feel as weak as before, he said, “Let’s walk to the orchard.”
She stiffened.
