Stolen Heiress. Joanna Makepeace

in this place was some small measure of comfort.

      The fire gave little warmth but there was protection from the wind in the hut and Clare sank thankfully down on a pile of dried bracken that Robert Devane indicated. She made no effort to remove her cloak or put back her hood.

      Robert Devane stood directly in front of her, his thumbs thrust deep into his sword belt as he grinned down at his captive. She waited anxiously for his answer to Margery’s question.

      ‘Ransom?’ he said slowly, his eyes raking over Clare’s huddled form. ‘It is a possibility. At any rate I’ve forbidden any of my men to touch her until I’ve finally decided. I’ll need you to guard her like a dragon, Margery, both from her own desire to escape and lose herself in this unfriendly wood and from the others—’ his eyes twinkled merrily ‘—particularly from Piers.’

      Clare controlled a shudder as she recalled the predatory gaze of the Frenchman. She looked up to meet Margery’s cold brown eyes in direct appeal.

      ‘Aye, I’ll keep my eyes on her, you can be sure of that, Master Rob,’ the older woman said with a disparaging glance at the prisoner.

      There was a savoury smell issuing from the pot suspended from a roughly made iron support over the fire. Clare was made aware for the first time that she was actually hungry. Her escort had not paused on the journey to eat. Sir Gilbert had been anxious to press on and Clare had thought to stop at an inn in Brinklow. She looked away, flushing darkly, as she saw Robert Devane’s amused glance follow hers to the pot.

      ‘Don’t worry, Mistress Hoyland, I have no intention of starving my prisoner. I have an excellent memory and was very grateful for your hospitality extended to me in your barn. Without that fine wine to give me strength, I might never have managed the escape when my men came for me.’

      If he had expected her to make some spirited comment that she would have done better to have held her hand from such kindness, he received no reply. He turned his attention to arranging for adequate guard to take turns while the little company ate. A slight stir outside informed Clare that the rest of the group had returned. Soon they were all crowding into the small hut.

      The Frenchman was eyeing her speculatively again and she turned from him stonily to look fixedly at the rough daubed wall.

      Robert Devane placed two men outside to keep a close watch and he himself sat down very close to Clare while Margery began to deal out the stew into wooden bowls. Someone had come well prepared from the Devane manor, Clare thought. Robert Devane handed her a bowl and wooden spoon and gratefully she began to eat. The stew was good—rabbit or pigeon, she thought—seasoned with herbs from the wood.

      The men ate steadily, again with little comment, and Margery sat down at last to consume her share of the stew, after taking rations to the two outside. The Frenchman Robert Devane had called Piers sat back idly after he had finished, swinging his wooden spoon loosely from the fingers of one hand and emitting a tuneless whistle which both irritated and alarmed Clare. In some subtle way he managed to raise her fears without one word or action of threatening behaviour.

      She had the notion that he was no servant of Robert Devane, but a close companion, and any control Rob Devane had over the man lay in the friendship each had for the other. Were she to be separated from either Devane or Margery, she would become very frightened indeed.

      The light in the hut was beginning to fade and Clare realised it would soon be full dark. The guard outside had been changed and Rob Devane had been discussing with his men his plans for the following day. She had been kept with Margery Lightbody—as she had discovered the woman’s full name to be—at the other end of the hut and, strain her ears though she might, she could not hear what was said.

      Margery took her outside at last so she might obey the call of nature and Clare was embarrassed to see not only that the woman kept her in sight all the time but they were shadowed by another of Rob Devane’s men, though at a somewhat discreet distance. She was beginning to get more and more fearful about the sleeping arrangements, but kept trying to reassure herself with the thought that Robert Devane had declared his intention of holding her for ransom. Were she to be molested by him or any of his men, she would prove virtually worthless, so, surely he would see to it that she was kept safe throughout the dark hours.

      He came to her side as she and Margery returned to the hut, still followed by their watchful guard.

      ‘You will sleep in this corner of the hut.’ He indicated the pile of bracken which had been drawn out into the shape of two rough beds. ‘Margery will lie beside you and you will remove your shoes and hand them to me now.’

      When she was about to protest he said, ‘If your feet are cold in the night you must accept that as a consequence of your refusal to give me your word you would try no tricks. Wrap them up in your cloak. You are lucky I do not intend to carry out my threat and keep you tightly pinioned. That, I’m sure you realise, would prove acutely uncomfortable.’

      Mutinously she lifted her gown and began to remove her shoes, conscious that covert glances were being cast at her from the far side of the hut. The Frenchman’s regard was not in the slightest covert. He continued to smile as she withdrew both soft riding shoes and handed them to Robert Devane.

      ‘Good,’ he said tersely. ‘You would find it extremely painful to try to hobble through the wood without these, mistress, and, I warn you, there are predators out there, animal as well as human, so lie down now and do your best to sleep. We have quite a way to travel in the morning and will set off at first light.’

      ‘How will you send to my uncle and demand ransom?’ she asked. ‘I trust you will do so very soon and allow me to be free of your hateful presence as quickly as humanly possible.’

      He made her that little, mocking bow she found so annoying.

      ‘I assure you, Mistress, I am as anxious as you are to see an improvement in my fortunes. Your brother’s conduct has forced this hateful necessity upon me. I can only hope that your uncle is as willing to value your freedom as you hope he will be and makes no delay in meeting my demands.’

      She turned from him angrily. She did not wish him to see her expression and was grateful for the dimness within the hut, the one horn lantern being furthest away from where she was to lie. She, too, had her doubts about her uncle’s intentions. He had been in such a hurry to further his own interests that she feared he would take some time before he considered the welfare of his niece, who had been thrust so quickly as an unwelcome burden upon him.

      Her thoughts sped to the Queen at her Court in Coventry. By now messengers would have been sent alerting her to Clare’s arrival. Soon it would be recognised that she was overdue. Would the Queen consider herself at all responsible for her newest attendant—and one, at that, whom she had never seen—and send out a search party? Clare rather thought not.

      Both the King and Queen had overmuch upon their minds during these uncertain times to worry themselves about the safety of some hapless and unimportant girl. Her only hope lay in being ransomed. If her uncle could not be contacted soon…or should he refuse to cooperate with Robert Devane—she thrust that fear aside as being too terrible to contemplate.

      Margery Lightbody saw to it that the fire was safely banked down and eventually lay down beside her charge. Not once since she had first seen Clare had she addressed one word to her and Clare felt she could expect no help or mercy from that quarter. Margery was entirely devoted to her master and would obey his commands to the letter.

      It was becoming bitterly cold and Clare lay huddled in the corner. The men had also settled themselves to sleep some distance from the two women. Robert Devane had gone outside to take his turn on watch. Clare lay sleepless, unwilling to turn or move and disturb Margery Lightbody. Her thoughts went over and over the events of the day and her fears for the future.

      She wondered if Bridget had been able to alert someone at Brinklow who would return to the Hoyland manor or send word of her predicament. Surely Bridget would not be feckless enough to forget her duty and run off with some man from the escort. Sighing inwardly, she had to admit that, knowing Bridget as she did, that was