‘Not in coins, perhaps,’ Lucy muttered.
Roger thought of the women in his past. Kitty, the maid at Lord Harpur’s house, even Joanna who he had never persuaded to do more than kiss and fumble, to say nothing of the handful of women he could barely even remember. A pang of loneliness shot through Roger.
‘Are you suggesting they only accepted my attentions for what I gave them? I always assumed they had loved me.’
‘That’s my point!’ Lucy shouted. ‘Perhaps they cared for you, perhaps they felt forced, but you never asked. It never occurred to you that you had to. At least I’m honest enough not to pretend I care for Risby and I know he cares nothing for me. Tell me, what should I have done instead? How should I survive with no money and no one to help me?’ Lucy flung an arm out violently towards the miller’s house. ‘It doesn’t matter who you are, poor men like him...rich men like you...like Robbie’s father...’
She swept closer to him, trembling with anger, her cheeks scarlet.
‘You use women like me until you’ve had enough, then you leave us to mend our lives and reputations as best we can.’ She wrapped her arms around herself, trembling violently. ‘You have no idea what it costs me to do this. How I die inside each time, wishing it would be over. You dare to sit in judgement over me? How dare you!’
In the face of her bile, Roger recoiled. How had this changed from his abhorrence at what she had done to her attacking him?
‘If the woman you fathered a bastard on hadn’t died in childbirth, would she be doing anything different to me now? How many of those others did she lie with willingly and how many so she didn’t starve?’
Her words knocked the strength from Roger. He shook his head, unable to defend himself against her accusations.
‘You have nothing to say? From the moment you met me you did your best to talk me into your bed.’
‘I tried to get you into bed, but I wanted you to come willingly,’ Roger protested. ‘I wanted it to mean something.’
‘Mean something? To you or to me?’ She laughed. She actually laughed, loud and shrill, until Roger understood it was no laugh at all, but pain escaping in an alarming flood of emotion. ‘I know you want me and you know I want you, too. I’ve resisted you and tried to ignore the feelings and desires I know will only lead to misery but it hasn’t been easy.’
She reached out and put her hands on Roger’s face, fingers spreading to caress his cheeks. The gesture was so unexpected after her venomous outburst that Roger accepted her touch without thinking. She looked into his eyes, piercing his soul with her intensity.
‘Now you know what sort of woman I am, do you still want me?’
He did. Despite what he had seen, the thought of touching her ran like molten iron through his blood. She was in his arms, her breasts pushing against his chest, sending a surge of longing through him. His lips craved hers...
‘You have money now. Will you spend your winnings on rutting in my bed?’ She ran a hand slowly from his cheek down his chest to settle at his waist. He gasped as lust riddled his body, instantly hardening him. Her eyes flitted down and she looked into his eyes triumphantly.
‘Should I do that for you instead and use your money to pay him?’ she breathed.
Roger growled in revulsion as the blood that had raced hot became ice. He clenched his jaw, only realising as she whipped her hands away that Lucy would have felt the tension through her fingers.
She gave one distraught sob before she turned on her heel and ran.
The sound ripped Roger’s heart from his chest, leaving him hollow and the strength that had been ebbing since his exertions at the tilt failed him.
This time he let her go.
Lucy had abandoned her cart in her haste to escape from Roger. He slumped on the edge and stared at the contents. The meagre amount of food, the essentials she needed to live. The almost-empty ale barrel. His conscience pricked him. Lucy had left her position and missed valuable selling time to console him after his failure. Other men had stolen her wares. Perhaps if she had left him to his own devices she might have made what she owed. Instead she had listened to Roger’s self-pitying woes, while all the time she must have been in turmoil, thinking about what lay before her. She had pushed him back towards the marketplace rather than explain the snare she was tangled in and he had ignored the suspicions he felt and had gone. Selfish and self-serving as always!
The resentment that had settled on his chest as heavy as a mail shirt lifted to be replaced by guilt that weighed double. He had told her the worst of his misdeeds this afternoon and she had said not a word of censure. Not even the worst, now he thought of it, because he had told her nothing of his attempted seduction of his brother’s wife where he had been so forceful she had recoiled in horror. He couldn’t ignore the sickening voice whispering that he was, as Lucy had accused him, no better than the miller. He was not fit to judge her.
He counted the coins he had won—now tarnished, in his eyes. He walked back to the miller’s house and pushed the door open. The miller was sitting in a chair. He looked up when Roger entered, his face alert and beginning to form a leer. When he realised Lucy had not returned he pushed out his lower lip petulantly and glared at Roger.
‘Have you frightened her off or is she waiting outside?’
‘She’s gone,’ Roger said in a calmer voice than he felt. ‘She won’t be back.’
‘I know your face, don’t I?’ The miller scowled. ‘You were on the path to the inn a few days back.’
‘I was, and as you can see I arrived safely.’ He stepped closer, looming over the seated man. ‘Mistress Carew is under my protection now.’
‘Who are you?’
‘I’m someone who cares for her,’ Roger answered. ‘If a word of this gets out you’ll answer to me. I’ll let it be known in the village. What will the other men think of you?’
‘D’you think they don’t know already? Do you think I’m the first, or the only? She’s got to put more than bread on the table. She’ll be back or I’ll see her in the assizes for failure to pay.’
Roger swung, balling his fist as his arm came round. The impact on the miller’s jaw sent waves of pain up his arm into the still-raw nerves of his shoulder, but the retching whimper from the miller as he slid to the floor more than made up for the discomfort.
‘How much does Mistress Carew owe? I will settle her debt.’
The miller wheezed out a figure. Roger drew his fist back again and the price was halved. Roger drew out a coin and pressed it into the man’s hand. He closed the fat fingers around it, pressing tightly until the miller winced as the edge bit into his palm.
‘Now, get out,’ Roger said grimly. The miller stumbled from the room, even though it was his own.
Roger slumped into the chair the man had vacated, trying his best not to think how many times Risby might have sat in that place and received Lucy’s attentions. He rested his head back against the wall and closed his eyes.
In the darkening room, Roger Danby looked inside himself and disliked what he saw. He winced as if a blow had struck him. Lucy had hit him, not with fists but with truths and they left a blow that stung harder by far and for long after. The disgust he had poured on her was nothing compared to that with which he scourged himself. He deserved every word she had said and more. Lucy had asked if he was a coward and he had denied it. Now he wondered if he had the courage or the ability to become the man he should always have been.
He still had money. He could buy fresh clothes smart enough to gain him admittance to Lord de Legh’s presence. He could hire the use of a mule to get him there and spare his legs. He knew he would do neither of those things. His heart belonged in the inn. More than ever he was determined that Lucy would play a part in his life and he a part in hers. He wanted her to be his, and his alone. She had asked if he wanted her in his bed and
he did, but more than that he wanted to hold her and keep her safe from men like Risby...and himself.
Even though it pained him to think of the reception he would receive, he would return Lucy’s cart and for the first time in his life he would do something he should have done many times in the past. He would beg her forgiveness for his deeds.
* * *
Lucy ran. There was no voice demanding she stay, no arms about her waist. Roger was not following her. She resisted looking back, the cold revulsion on his face lashing her mind. When she neared Mary Barton’s home she knelt by the river and splashed water over her hands to rid herself of the scent and feel of Risby’s flesh, though she had been interrupted before beginning what she had bargained to do. Somehow she managed to remain calm while she collected Robbie and listened to Mary Barton’s account of the day, including the news that the stranger who had been with Lucy had succeeded in spearing all five rings. She smiled through clenched teeth. He had won his long-sought-after money and would no doubt be leaving as soon as he could.
The ugly, angry words they had thrown at each other loomed large in her mind. Did she regret them? Not in the slightest. Roger’s condemnation of her behaviour was far too hypocritical considering what she knew of his past. Even so, she wished she could have prevented him discovering her secret. Seeing the light of disappointment in his eyes was worse than when she had returned home to admit to her father why Lord Harpur had cast her out.
She started on the path to the inn with a heavy heart. The road was littered with travellers leaving the fair, but none of them was the familiar figure she wanted to see. She barely noticed when someone fell in beside her until she felt a hand at her elbow. Her heart soared as she stopped dead. However, it was not Roger, but a hooded figure close to her height.
‘Keep walking, Sister.’
She gasped in surprise.
‘Say nothing that will attract attention. Even now we might be watched.’
‘Thomas, where have you been?’
If he had returned one day earlier things would have been so different. Thomas would have taken Roger away and he would never have discovered her shame. Thomas might even have brought money so she could have repaid her debt honestly.
His eyes darted from side to side. ‘Has anyone come looking for me?’
‘The men who came before? No. Nor anyone Roger recognised.’
‘Have you been in the brewing shed?’
Lucy wrinkled her nose, confused at this change of subject. ‘Of course, I go every day. Why?’
Thomas glanced around. ‘No matter. Sir Roger will be able to help me when I speak to him.’
Lucy caught hold of his wrist. ‘What trouble are you in? What can he do?’ She bowed her head, barely able to speak his name. ‘Roger isn’t at the inn.’
Thomas clutched her skirt. ‘Did he survive the arrow wound? I must speak with him urgently. Where is he?’
‘He survived. I helped him. I don’t know where he is now. He may come back to the inn.’ Lucy swallowed a sob. ‘But perhaps not. If you wait—’
‘Not the inn!’ Thomas interrupted. ‘They’re searching for me. I know it now.’ He paced around. ‘Remember the old well where we used to play? I’ll hide there. Tell Sir Roger to come when he can.’
‘What if he doesn’t come back?’ Lucy asked. The idea she might never see him again was unbearable, but she would have to bury that feeling deep inside.
‘Then I am lost,’ Thomas growled. They were walking fast and nearing the small group that walked ahead of them. Thomas dropped Lucy’s arm. ‘I have to go now.’
He peeled away and headed from the road into the hills. Lucy watched him go, until she became aware that standing staring at the forest was a sure way to draw attention to his presence. If Thomas was lost, that was nothing to how Lucy felt. She shifted Robbie into a more comfortable position and returned home.
* * *
The inn was dark and cold. Lucy lit a single taper for Robbie’s comfort. She didn’t mind the cold and there was no reason to sit in the light when there was no one to sit with. When they had argued before and she had thrown Roger out, her feelings had been of overwhelming relief. Now his absence filled the room.
She soaked bread in milk for Robbie. He ate sleepily, leaving more than Lucy was prepared to throw away. She felt too despondent to eat, but scraped the bowl anyhow, remembering how Roger had insisted she eat the whole portion while he shared with Robbie. She smiled at the memory even though it caused fresh tears to fill her eyes. Such a foolish reason to fall in love with someone, but that along with other small kindnesses had worked into her heart more surely than any silver-tongued words or poetry might have.
She carried Robbie to bed and went back downstairs to sit by the hearth. She had spent more evenings than she could count sitting alone and had no expectation of a future where she did otherwise, but until Roger arrived she had not seen what pleasure the company of an amusing companion could bring. She rested her head against the wall and let the tears fall.
A soft tap at the door roused her from her misery. She tensed, hardly able to move. The tap came again and Lucy ran to the door, lifting the latch with trembling hands.
Roger stood framed in the doorway, silhouetted in the dusk. Lucy’s heart leapt to her throat and she almost flung herself into his arms until she remembered the cold disgust in his eyes and the way he had frozen under her touch.
‘What do you want?’
‘We have unfinished business. May I come in?’
Lucy stepped back. Roger did not move at first, but then ducked his head and stepped inside. His face was unreadable in the darkness of the solitary taper.
‘Why are you sitting in the dark? You haven’t even lit the fire.’ Roger’s voice was disapproving. Lucy shrugged. It was a small criticism compared to his earlier words. He crossed the room and knelt, striking the flint until the sparks caught the straw. He lit two more tapers and came to stand in front of Lucy, holding one up so he could see her. Her eyes felt swollen and sore. She hated him to know she had been crying.
‘I wasn’t sure if you would come back now you have your money.’
‘I wasn’t sure either.’
‘You could leave Mattonfield.’
‘I considered it.’ His body was rigid as he towered over her.
‘Before or after you discovered what I am?’
‘After. But as you can see I am here.’ Roger reached out a hand. ‘You’ve been crying.’
Lucy crossed her arms. ‘Yes, I have. But I’m not now. If you’ve come to condemn me further you can leave.’
‘I haven’t.’ Roger’s voice betrayed no emotion. ‘He said he wasn’t the first. Was he speaking the truth?’
She could have lied, pretended virtue she didn’t deserve, but she was done with deception. ‘The physician was. My father needed medicine I could not afford. What else could I have done?’
He smiled sadly. ‘I’ve brought back your cart.’
It was no answer, but until then it had not occurred to Lucy that she had even left it behind. His small kindness swept her feet from under her and, angry as she was, she felt her face soften into a smile. She forced herself to hide it.
‘Thank you, but there was no need. I could have collected it tomorrow.’
‘I don’t want you returning to the mill.’ A shadow passed over Roger’s face. ‘For any reason.’
‘I don’t want to,’ she admitted. She began forming an explanation, then stopped and walked away from him. The fire was beginning to catch and she stared into the flickering depths.
‘I told you before, I made my choices and I’ve lived with my mistakes. I won’t justify myself to you.’
‘You have no need to justify yourself. Truly. I don’t like it, but I can understand why you were going to do it.’
> He came behind her, close enough that she was aware of every small movement. Lucy kept her back to him, uncertain what was happening. She had expected a further tirade against her morality or recriminations about what she had said to him, but Roger sounded nervous.
‘I didn’t come here to quarrel with you.’ Roger’s voice was earnest.
‘Then why did you come?’
‘I never got the chance to tell you why I was looking for you,’ Roger said.
‘To tell me you had won?’
‘More than that,’ Roger said. ‘To thank you for sending me back to try again. I won because of you, dove.’
He moved closer to her. Lucy lifted her head to look at him, her heartbeat thumping in her ears. He took her by the hand, then ran his fingers slowly up her arms, across her shoulders and finally put his hands to her cheeks, burying his fingers in her hair. The gesture was so intimate that it caused the breath to catch in Lucy’s throat.
His eyes were soft and his lips slightly parted. He stroked her cheek with his thumb as his fingers slipped behind her head, drawing her towards him. He was going to kiss her. And she intended to let him.
Roger’s mouth sought hers. Lucy tilted her head until it was within reach. His kiss was eager, his lips hungry for hers. The scent of him flooded her limbs, the taste of him made her grow weak. She gave herself over to the pleasure, allowing him to guide her in pace and pressure until her head spun.
Roger broke away first. He held her gaze in a moment of stillness, the world containing only them.
‘After I won I started thinking about my future and yours. You don’t have to live the way you do. There is another way.’
He pushed a lock of hair behind Lucy’s ear in a gesture that was at once intimate yet proprietary. He smiled.
‘I want you to become my mistress.’
Chapter Sixteen
‘Oh!’
Lucy pulled her hands free, feeling foolish. The kiss had been like a sensuous dream she hadn’t wanted to wake from, obliterating all thoughts and worries. For one moment she had thought Roger was about to ask her to marry him, so his words brought the dream crashing down in flames.
Redeeming the Rogue Knight Page 20
