Page 27 of By the Sword
Without looking at him, she sensed him watching her.
‘I appreciate your concern, Kate,’ he said at last, ‘but I am bound to the King. I must go to Scotland.’
‘And what awaits you in Scotland?’ she asked without looking up, her heart tight within her bodice.
‘I hope for a regiment of horse but,’ he said with a shrug, ‘with the Scots calling the tune I may well be doing nothing. That is the soldier’s lot.’ He paused. ‘Please, believe me, Kate. If I could dally I would. I can think of nothing I want more than time…’
He didn’t finish the sentence and when Kate dared to meet his eyes again, she found him watching her.
‘You will be careful?’ was all she could say.
He smiled, a humourless smile not echoed by his eyes. ‘There is no one who knows better than I how to look after myself. I have managed remarkably well up to this point in time.’
Kate shivered. ‘As your sister said, you may well tempt fate once too often, Jonathan.’
He looked at her, the hazel eyes searching her face, a slight frown puckering his brow. ‘And that worries you, Kate?’
‘Yes,’ she admitted. ‘As the fate of any friend would concern me,’ she added.
‘Friend,’ Jonathan echoed the word and raised his glass. ‘Then let us drink to friendship, Mistress Ashley. A valuable commodity in these times.’
She raised her glass in answer. ‘Friendship.’
Chapter 8
‘Jonathan. You’re not listening,’ Tom grumbled
‘Sorry, Tom. What did you say?’ Jonathan replied.
They had entered York, and a multitude of thoughts had been running through Jonathan’s mind as he contemplated the impending farewell and the long, hard ride north to an uncertain future awaiting him in Scotland.
‘I asked if you were going to stay at Uncle William’s with us.’ Tom’s raised voice broke Jonathan’s reverie and he shot Kate a glance.
‘Uncle William?’ he asked.
Kate smiled. ‘William Rowe, my sister’s husband. His house is just down this street, yonder.’ Kate indicated the direction. ‘He’s been seeing to the wool sales, and the plan is that Tom and I will travel back to Barton with him on the morrow. You would be welcome to stay.’ Kate looked up at Jonathan. ‘William is a generous host.’
William the wool merchant, Jonathan recalled. A house built on the profits from war, he thought, as he considered the pleasant half-timbered house. Could he sacrifice his principles for a few more hours of Kate’s company, a comfortable bed and free lodgings?
‘If your brother-in-law has no objection, I would be honoured,’ he replied.
The smile lit up Kate’s face. ‘Oh no, I’m sure William won’t mind.’
‘I have some business that I must transact first, Kate. If I could leave my horse, I’ll go on foot.’
‘Of course. There are stables at the rear of the house. Dickon will see to Amber. Shall we expect you for supper?’
Jonathan shook his head. ‘I’ve no idea how long my business will take. Don’t expect me.’
The disappointment on Kate’s face was plain to see. Jonathan resisted the temptation to reach out a finger and raise her face to look into her eyes…to kiss her. That had been a temptation he had been resisting for some days, conscious that Kate would return his advances with a glad heart.
He took a steadying breath and cursed himself for forgetting, just for a moment, that his life allowed for no such distractions, beyond passing dalliances. Yet he had let his guard down with this woman, and had, unforgivably, let her form an attachment that, whatever he wished, could never have a future.
Still, one more night could make no difference.
He left them at the house of William Rowe and set out on foot to the home of a wealthy merchant, not unlike William Rowe, who lived across the river. The rain had stopped and broken sunlight dappled the narrow, muddy streets.
After the long days in the saddle, Jonathan relished the chance to stretch his legs. He had been to York before and had a lingering affection for the ancient town with its magnificentMinster, mercifully spared the ravages of a victorious Parliamentary army by its commander, Sir Thomas Fairfax.
