by June Francis
Rosamund was still fretting about whether she would be turned away from Lathom’s gates when a hedge loomed up. She groaned and had to back up Betsy. Taking a deep breath, she urged the horse towards the jump. They barely cleared the thicket of hazel. As they landed Rosamund sensed that the nag had caught a hoof on something. The beast landed awkwardly and one of Rosamund’s feet came loose from the stirrup. The force of the jolt caused her to slip sideways. For several moments she dangled with her hands brushing the ground and then she managed to free her other foot. She fell into a patch of half-frozen muddy turf.
Pushing herself up, she spat out dirt before wiping her face with the back of her glove. Then she glanced back towards the hedge and saw a man stretched out on the ground. Her heart jerked inside her breast and, with knees that shook, she walked towards him.
His hat lay a few feet away and Rosamund picked it up before hunkering down beside him. She stared into the stranger’s handsomely rugged face and with a sinking heart observed a swelling and an abrasion on his jaw where Betsy’s hoof must have caught him a blow. To her relief his golden lashes lifted and a pair of penetrating tawny-brown eyes gazed into hers. She experienced the oddest sensation. Then his arm shot up and seized her by the throat and in one swift movement he rose to his feet, carrying her with him.
‘Who are you?’ he growled.
The hat fell from her fingers and, terrified, she clawed at that hand that threatened to cut off her breathing. She wanted to say, Are you mad? I can scarcely breathe, never mind speak.
As if he had read her thoughts, his fingers slackened a fraction. ‘Answer my question!’ he demanded.
But Rosamund could not get a word out, for fear still held her in its grip. She felt him fumble beneath her homespun cloak and a strangled gasp escaped her lips. Instinctively she kicked out at him. He swore in an unfamiliar tongue as he disarmed her. Her short-sword was thrust in his belt before he seized her dainty booted foot.
‘I would not try that again if I were you,’ he warned.
Alex was not in the best of moods. Not only had he failed to meet Lady Elizabeth at Lathom House, but he had also lost himself in the back lanes in his search for Appleby Manor. He had asked for directions from one of the guards, but obviously they had not been clear enough.
‘Come, lad, speak!’ he ordered, loosening his grip a fraction more.
Rosamund was not about to admit to being a woman to this barbaric stranger, whose voice held an inflection that, despite her fear of him, she found attractive. He was obviously a foreigner and perhaps that was the reason for his aggression. She blurted out the first name that came to mind. ‘Joshua Wood!’
Alex flicked back a lock of flaxen hair and brought the youth’s filthy face closer to his and rasped, ‘I deem you deliberately rode me down, Master Wood.’
‘No! You were out of sight behind the hedge so I could not see you,’ she croaked, struggling to free her foot. ‘If I was as suspicious of folk as you are, then I would want to know if you were hiding there to waylay me.’
‘You flatter yourself that I should consider you important enough to wish to pounce on you.’ His hand moved disturbingly from her foot to her knee and he hoisted her higher against him.
‘That is true,’ she stammered. ‘I—I am b-but a simple woodcutter.’
Alex scrutinised the frightened face with its uncommon blue-violet eyes and long black lashes and he had the strangest feeling of familiarity. Abruptly he released his captive. ‘You lie!’
‘You brute,’ she gasped, slumping on the ground and rubbing her throat.
‘You will come with me,’ he said, going over to his horse.
‘What!’ She sat up straight. ‘Why should you believe I would want to go anywhere with you?’ she said hoarsely. ‘Your intention might be to kill me.’
‘Aye, you could be right. Keep that in mind, my fine lad, if you wish to see the end of this day. You deal honestly with me and I will free you when I have finished with you.’ Alex took a coil of thin rope from his horse and strode over to her. ‘I am looking for Appleby Manor. You will take me there.’
His words filled her with dismay. It would be disastrous for her to do what he said. Yet if she didn’t, perhaps he would slit her throat. A squeak of fear escaped her. What could he want at Appleby Manor? Did he have aught to do with her stepmother’s schemes? Surely he could not be the close kinsman she was expecting? He did not speak like a Scotsman. What was she to do? Suddenly she realised that there was only one thing she could do and that was to lead him astray.
‘Why do you hesitate? Is it that you are not frightened enough?’ growled Alex. He had met some effeminate young men in his time, but there was something different about this one. Perhaps Master Wood felt a need to prove to himself that he was a real man and that was why he had lied about being a woodcutter. To wield an axe, to chop down trees and slice trunks into planks needed strength.
‘I would be mad not to be frightened of you,’ said Rosamund, trying to control the tremor in her voice. Slowly she rose to her feet. ‘But return my weapon to me and I will prove my courage by fighting with you.’
Alex’s smile was grim. ‘You are a brave but foolish young man to challenge me. Who are you really? I reckon your weapon is too good to belong to a woodcutter. It would fetch a goodly sum if placed on the market. No doubt you stole it. You could be part of a gang of ruffians out to act as a decoy and lead me into a trap.’
‘I am no thief,’ she said indignantly. ‘Nor do I belong to a gang.’
‘I have only your word for that,’ said Alex calmly, unwinding the cord. ‘We will be roped together so you cannot gallop off and warn the others that there’s rich pickings on the way.’
Rosamund was aghast and backed away from him, only to slip in a patch of mud. He dragged her to her feet and, despite her struggles, he managed to tie one end of the cord to her wrist and the other he looped about his hand.
‘You are quite mad,’ she said in a shaken voice.
‘If I am, then I have been driven mad.’
She had spoken those very words to her father once and he had sunk his head in his hands. She had stared in anguish, watching his shoulders shake before he had waved a hand at her in dismissal. She, too, had wept as she had left the room. She could not believe this stranger could have descended to the depths that she had and that caused her to spit out at him.
‘You mock me! I do not like having my word doubted. It is you who are the thief. Return that short-sword to me at once. It belonged to my dead brother and it is all I have of him.’
The lad sounded so sincere that Alex almost believed him. But then he reminded himself that he had heard many a word spoken in so-called sincerity. ‘I will return it at my convenience,’ he said coldly.
Rosamund felt a familiar helplessness creep over her. She told herself that she must not give in to the lowness of spirits that had gripped her so often in the past. She remembered how she had managed to overcome those dark moods by riding out on her beautiful horse. The one that Edward, her elder stepbrother, had removed from the stable after her father’s death. She had not been allowed beyond the gardens after that and there had been times when life was so utterly unbearable that she had given vent to her anger by smashing many a jar. Then they had locked her in her bedchamber and she had resorted to the submissive behaviour that had served her well in the past. But she was in no mood to act so at the moment. After all, she was supposed to be a brave youth, not a fearful girl.
‘I should have left you lying on the ground and ridden over you,’ she seethed. ‘Instead, I behaved like a Christian, and what thanks do I receive? You treat me like a cur.’ She glowered at him, thinking that she would have her revenge when they reached Lathom. She would call on the guards to take this foreigner prisoner.
‘If you wish for better treatment, Master Wood, I suggest you only speak when spoken to,’ said Alex.
He tugged on the rope and she went flying into him. He picked her up as if she weig
hed no more than a bundle of rags and threw her into the saddle. As Rosamund grappled for the reins, Old Betsy let out a deep sigh and seemed to sag in the middle. The next moment Rosamund was almost dragged off her horse as Alex swung up on to his own mount.
‘This is intolerable!’ Her voice shook. ‘What is your reason for wishing to go to Appleby Manor, anyway?’
‘That is none of your business, lad,’ said said Alex, giving her some slack. ‘Take me there and I might even reward you.’
She wanted to give him a hot answer, but her sense of desolation was suddenly such that she knew if she spoke she would burst into tears and that would never do. She felt another jerk on the rope.
‘You are supposed to be leading the way,’ he said.
Rosamund darted him a poisonous look.
‘Forgive me if I appear overly cautious, Master Wood, but one has difficulty these days even trusting one’s friends,’ said Alex. That slight inflection was evident in his voice and once again Rosamund was oddly affected by it. ‘Now tell your horse to walk on,’ he added.
Rosamund did so. Then she spent several seconds imagining the moment when he would get his comeuppance. Then the reality of her situation struck her and the corners of her mouth drooped. A mournful sigh escaped her.
Alex gave her a sidelong glance and felt a stir of pity at the sight of such abject misery. Then he hardened his heart. Pity could have no place in his armoury. The youth had lied to him. He could be all that he had accused him of being, but Alex was prepared to risk that to discover if Harry and Ingrid were at Appleby Manor.
They rode on in silence between high, bare hedgerows until they reached an open aspect. Suddenly Alex had a growing conviction that he had passed this way before. When he recognised the walls of Lathom ahead, he turned on his companion and pulled on the cord, causing Rosamund to almost tumble from the horse.
‘Do you take me for a fool, Master Wood?’ roared Alex. ‘This is not Appleby Manor, but Lathom House!’
Rosamund managed to grab the pommel and heave herself back into the saddle. ‘You could have killed me!’ she cried.
‘But I didn’t,’ snapped Alex. ‘What jape is this you play? I left this place only a couple of hours ago.’
His words took Rosamund utterly by surprise. ‘What were you doing at the Earl of Derby’s mansion?’
‘That is none of your business.’ His eyes flashed golden fire ‘Answer my question or I’ll cut your throat. Why have you brought me here?’
‘I—I have no w-wish to return to A-Appleby Manor,’ she stuttered. ‘They would kill me.’
Alex gazed into the delicate features and his anger abated. ‘Why? What wrong have you done?’
Rosamund felt her ire rising again. ‘Why do you believe it is I who am in the wrong when I am fleeing for my life?’
Alex frowned. ‘Because, Master Wood, I deem you are no woodcutter, which means you lied to me.’
She felt sick with fear. ‘Wh-what evidence do you have to make such an accusation?’
Alex smiled humourlessly. ‘Your stature is enough. It takes strength to chop down trees, Master Wood—you look more suited to needlepoint. Tell me, who is it you fear at Appleby Manor?’
Rosamund had no intention of telling him. After all, he could be in the pay of her stepbrother, Edward Fustian, who had dealings in London with foreigners.
‘Why should I answer your question when you will not answer mine?’ she muttered.
‘Because I am the stronger, little bantam.’
‘You mean you would bully me like you have already done in order to have your own way,’ she said sullenly.
He raised his tawny eyebrows. ‘I beg pardon if I have hurt you,’ he said in a mocking voice. ‘But if you do not wish to take me to Appleby Manor, then answer my questions.’
‘Will you let me go if I do?’
‘If I judge you are telling me the truth. Who dwells there?’
Rosamund could see no harm in answering him. ‘The family is small and consists of Lady Monica Appleby and her son William. She has another son who lives in London.’
This news was not what Alex had hoped to hear. ‘What of Sir James?’
‘Dead!’
The news came as something of a shock.
Rosamund saw that he paled beneath his tanned skin. ‘You knew Sir James?’ she asked.
Alex pulled himself together. ‘I met him only the once.’
‘You seem very shocked by the news, sir.’
‘Indeed, I am. I had hoped to gain information from him. When did he die?’
‘Six months ago.’ Her expression was bleak.
That news was a further shock. ‘I met him shortly before he died,’ said Alex. ‘He made no mention that he had two sons.’
‘That is because they are not his sons, but belong to his second wife, Lady Monica.’ Rosamund watched his expression alter and wondered what this information was that he had wanted from her father, but she did not see how she could be of help to him on that score. ‘Did you meet him in London?’
‘Aye, and that is where I must go now. I will risk showing you some trust. Are you able to guide me out of this palatine and set me on the road to that city? I will pay you to act as my guide.’
She shook her head. ‘No! I can’t come with you. I have business at Lathom House.’
Alex scowled. ‘So that is why you brought me here. I don’t care what your business is, you will guide me out of this backwater or you will be sorry.’
Alarmed, she said, ‘I will do what you say if you answer me one question. Did you speak to Lady Elizabeth Stanley whilst you were at Lathom?’
Alex’s suspicions were immediately roused. ‘Why do you ask, lad? What business do you have with the lady?’
Rosamund knew if she told him the truth, then he would know for certain that she had deceived him. ‘It is a private matter.’
‘I wager it is,’ said Alex silkily. ‘Well, I will not keep secret from you that the lady and her entourage left yesterday afternoon for London.’
Rosamund’s spirits plummeted. Her hope in coming here was all in vain. What was she to do now?
Watching the dismay cloud Master Wood’s face, Alex had the strangest feeling that he was right to be suspicious of this slender youth and determined to discover more about him. ‘If you still wish to speak to the lady, then I suggest you accompany me to London.’
Rosamund knew that she should not agree to his suggestion. Yet, he was giving her a second chance to gain the help of her godmother. Would it be a bigger mistake not to agree? On the other hand, was it crazy to even consider going with him? He was a foreigner who had almost choked the life out of her. This should have told her, if aught else didn’t, that he was a dangerous man. No, it would be sheer folly to fall in with his plan.
She tilted her chin. ‘I do not wish to go with you! In fact, I refuse to do so!’ She dug her heels into Betsy’s flanks. The horse jerked forward and then collapsed.
Chapter Two
Rosamund’s shock was intense. She barely had time to kick her feet free of the stirrups before she felt a tug on her wrist as Alex bent over and lifted her from the saddle. He lowered her to the ground before dismounting and hunkering down beside the horse. He placed his hand on the beast’s neck and held it there for several moments before looking up at her.
‘I’m sorry, Master Wood, but your horse is dead.’
Rosamund fell on her knees besides the horse and a sob burst from her. She stroked the horse’s head before burying her face against its shaggy coat to hide her tears. ‘Poor Betsy,’ she whispered.
Alex gazed down at the bent head and the exposed slender neck. Had he imagined that sob? What conclusions could he draw from it? He could recall having difficulty holding back tears when his first pony had died. Grieving for a beloved horse was natural. Perhaps he was mistaken to have considered even for a moment that this uncommon youth was a thief.
‘We are presented with a problem, Master Wood,’ he said. �
�I am short of time, but you are without a mount. What do you want to do?’
Rosamund turned a tearstained face towards him. ‘You are giving me a choice?’
Alex wondered if he was being overly sympathetic, but told himself that it was important that he discovered what Master Wood’s business was with her ladyship. ‘I need to go to London. You wish to speak with Lady Elizabeth, who is on her way there. Someone is bound to pass this way and they will find your horse and do what is necessary.’
Rosamund wiped her face with the back of her hand and rose to her feet. ‘I will walk to London,’ she said in a small voice.
Alex frowned. His suspicions, his common sense and his sympathy for a fellow human being in such a situation were at war with each other. ‘You will not catch up with the lady on the road, Master Wood. I doubt I will do so on horseback. Besides, it will take you a long time to walk to London. If your strength does not fail you and you are not attacked by robbers and you manage to reach your destination, it is even possible that you might find the lady not at home. What would you do then?’
‘I had not thought so far ahead.’ She heaved a deep sigh.
‘You must make a decision.’
Rosamund lifted her head and saw a look in his eyes that surprised her. ‘Are you suggesting that I share your horse?’ she asked.
‘I do not have all day, Master Wood,’ said Alex, untying the cord at her wrist. ‘If I were in your situation, I wouldn’t accept my offer. But of course, it would depend on how desperate I was to speak to Lady Elizabeth.’
Rosamund was extremely desperate. If she stayed here, who was to say that her stepmother and her men would not find her as soon as he left? Of course, in London there was the risk of being seen by Edward.
‘If you are going to decide to come with me, we must make a move now,’ rasped Alex. ‘The horse will not be able to travel swiftly carrying the two of us and I need to be in London by the twenty-second of this month.’