MAIDEN in the Tudor Court. June Francis

of it and fell into an exhausted sleep.

      When Alex arrived outside the bedchamber it was to discover that the door was locked. He knocked at the wooden panel gently, but there came no sound from within. Had he frightened her so much by roaring at her earlier that she was scared he would hurt her? He tapped again and called, ‘Master Wood, of your courtesy, open the door?’

      But still there was no response and, due to the utter silence, he concluded that his travelling companion had fallen asleep. He went downstairs and told the innkeeper that he had changed his mind and would have supper in the parlour. As for Master Wood, he had fallen asleep and perhaps it was best not to disturb him.

      Rosamund woke hours later. The candle had guttered out and the fire was but dead embers. She remembered locking the door and guessed that most likely Master Nilsson had remained downstairs to spend the night in discomfort. A groan escaped her. She had not intended keeping him from his bed. Had he decided that she had deliberately locked him out for losing his temper with her? But why had he not banged on the door to waken her?

      Perhaps he had done so and she had not heard him. No doubt he was furious with her. Was it time she parted company with him? What had he thought of her suggestions? What interests did a so-called Swedish jack of all trades have in London after having visited Lathom House and seeking out her father? A man whom he had told her that he had only met once. And what was happening on the twenty-second of the month that he needed to be in London?

      The cramps in her stomach had eased a little and she replaced the pad, anguishing over this evidence of her femininity. Despite the soreness beneath and her aching back, she managed to pull on her boots and buttoned up her doublet. She put on her hat and fastened her cloak and, picking up her pitifully few bindings, as well as the soiled one, she let herself out of the bedchamber and crept downstairs.

      All was quiet as she drew back the bolts and peered outside. There was a pearly light in the sky towards the east, which meant it would soon be dawn. She went and dug a hole in the soil near the stable with a stick and buried the soiled cloth. Then she washed her hands in the horse trough before returning to the inn. She found her way to the kitchen and went over to the larder and took a hunk of bread and cut slices of ham from the joint there. Then she let herself outside again.

      The freezing air seemed determined to take bites out of her face. Nevertheless, she pulled up her hood before hurrying across the yard to the stable.

      She was in the act of trying to saddle up Alex’s horse when a voice from behind said, ‘And where are you going so early in the morning, Master Wood, and in such haste?’ Her heart seemed to somersault as she turned to face the man silhouetted in the doorway.

      ‘Have you no answer for me, little thief?’ asked Alex coldly.

      Rosamund took a deep breath in an attempt to calm herself. ‘I am not a thief. I was just trying to have everything ready for when you came out. I thought you would be tired after my accidentally locking you out of the bedchamber. I beg pardon for doing so.’ She swallowed nervously. ‘I also knew that you would want to make an early start, knowing that my presence on your horse has lengthened the time of your journey.’

      Alex was confounded. ‘Are you being honest with me?’

      ‘Why should I speak falsely?’

      ‘Because you are scared,’ he said bluntly. ‘You ask much of me. I want to believe that you did not intend to steal my horse and escape, but give me a further reason why I should do so?’

      ‘I will be honest with you and admit that I have deceived you.’

      Alex’s heart began to thud. Was she about to tell him that she was a woman? ‘What is the manner of your deception?’

      Rosamund’s lips parted, but the words would not come and she despised herself for being a coward. Moments passed and Alex reached out and drew her towards him. ‘What is wrong? Is the truth so terrible that you do not have the courage to reveal it?’

      She nodded wordlessly, conscious that her breasts were crushed against his chest. Perhaps she would not need to speak because surely he could not be unaware of them and would guess her secret.

      Alex was indeed aware that her breasts appeared to have sprouted overnight and to his astonishment his arousal was instant and he wanted to take her there and then in the straw. He imagined her expression if he should do so and instantly released her. He did not want such a complication in his life. ‘I am disappointed that you still cannot be honest with me. I see you consider me no friend?’

      She found her voice. ‘How can I consider you a friend when I know so little about you?’

      ‘I have given you a name and told you where I come from. You know that I like travelling and am a jack of all trades.’

      ‘That is still not a lot of information when it comes to giving someone your trust,’ said Rosamund.

      Alex could not prevent a smile. ‘You’re not so crazed as your stepfamily seemed to want you to believe, Master Appleby.’

      Rosamund started and a tiny laugh escaped her. ‘How clever of you to guess my secret.’

      Alex’s smile deepened. Perhaps he should not blame her for wanting to continue to conceal her true identity from him. ‘You gave yourself away on several occasions.’

      ‘I would not make a very good conspirator, would I?’

      ‘I disagree. You have deduced that it is not always safe to tell strangers your secrets and to answer a question with a question.’

      Rosamund agreed.

      ‘But of course, in providing me with the information that you have, I have come to the conclusion that you believe your stepbrother murdered your father.’

      She hesitated. ‘Would you say that is a sensible conclusion to draw?’

      He nodded. ‘But I would add that if you are Sir James’s son, then surely you should be in charge of Appleby Manor and his business in London, not your stepfamily.’

      Rosamund was silent.

      Alex said abruptly, ‘We will leave this for now. It is time we were on our way.’

      Rosamund lifted her head and stared at him. ‘I have some food I have taken from the kitchen as I missed supper—shall we eat it later?’

      He nodded. ‘Let us put some miles behind us.’

      Whilst he was saddling up his horse, she went and fetched the pillion seat. They had travelled a few miles when Rosamund said, ‘What was your opinion of my father?’

      He glanced over his shoulder at her sombre face. ‘As I told you, I met him but the once.’

      ‘Where?’

      ‘Down at the quayside,’ answered Alex carefully. ‘We were watching ships being unloaded. It was then he spotted the young captain of the Thor’s Hammer. He said he reminded him of someone he had known in a past life.’

      Rosamund said, ‘What a strange comment to make. Did he say whom this captain reminded him of?’

      ‘No. And I have not seen either of them since then.’

      ‘Perhaps your young captain is dead.’

      Her words gave him a shock. ‘That I have not considered.’

      ‘Why? If he is a seafarer, then it is a possibility, is it not?’

      Alex could not deny it. ‘I sense he is alive,’ he said abruptly.

      ‘Why, if you have not seen him? Would you have expected to have seen him during the time that has passed since you last did so?’

      ‘In the circumstances, no.’

      ‘What circumstances are these?’

      He gave her an exasperated look. ‘It is I who ask the questions.’

      ‘I have already answered