An Honorable Rogue (15 page)

Ben could not tell Rose about the letter he was carrying, just as he had never been able to tell her about any of his work as personal private envoy to the Duke and his predecessor, Duke Conan. In the early days, the messages he carried were trivial, but lately, with the threat of local unrest and Normandy's ambition, the letters that he carried were more weighty. The Duke's enemies would kill to get their hands on them. Ben judged the letter he carried today to be important, if Abbot Benoit's expression had been anything to go by. No, it was safer for Rose if she continued in ignorance of the missive he was carrying.

'As I mentioned,' he went on. 'Rennes is not the most direct route to the coast." Since Rozenn had never left Quimperle. her sense of geography would be poor to non-existent. She was not unusual in this regard, for most people never travelled more than half-a-dozen miles from their homes in their lives. 'I am thinking that with your hatred of water. Rose, we shall definitely cross the Narrow Sea, rather than risk the Great Sea. The less time you spend in a ship, the better.'

'I will manage, but I bow to your knowledge.' she said, shooting him a brief smile, before grimacing and transferring her gaze to Jet's ears. 'Even though I expect that will mean more riding.'

'Yes.'

Rose groaned.

She needed confidence in her ability to learn to ride. Surreptitiously. Ben lengthened the leading rein until there was a sword's length between them. The pace he would maintain for the time being, a steady walk. Mentally crossing his fingers, he gazed across the gap and said. 'Soon you'll feel as though you were born in the saddle."

She gave a short laugh, but did not break her perusal of Jet's ears. 'I doubt it.'

'That bad, huh?'

Another grimace, 'I do feel rather awkward.' She plucked at the hem of her gown and tried to pull it down. 'I don't like showing my legs. I must look like one of the girls at Genevieve's.'

Deliberately, Ben let his gaze linger on her calves and ankles, smiling at her feet in their sturdy, practical boots. 'Rather better, I'd say.'

She flushed. 'Don't, Ben. It... It's all right when it's just you and me but...' she glanced up and down the track '...but what when we meet other travellers? It is most unseemly. Shouldn't I be riding side-saddle?'

'Side-saddle? You'd find that even more awkward. Most ordinary women learn to ride astride.'

'Most ordinary women--' her tone was tart'--never leave their home town.'

'You are very brave,' he said finally. 'Especially given your nature.'

'And what might that mean?'

He opened his eyes wide. 'You are and always have been a girl for hearth and home.'

'And how you hate that,' she muttered.

Ben opened his mouth to gainsay her. but she turned her head away from him and dug her heels into Jet's flanks. Jet's pace did not alter. Jet was, as Morgan had promised, slow and placid, thank the Lord. Ben didn't want Jet haring off over the next hill; the last thing he wanted was to have to pick Rose out of a ditch.

Biting back a smile, he allowed himself the pleasure, and it was a pleasure, of looking at her profile. Oddly, it was as though part of him needed to memorise her on this ride through sun-dappled woods, as if he had been waiting for years to see her like this. Something within him softened as he looked at her smooth, high brow, at the long dark lashes, the straight nose. That slight flare of her upper lip--it was so subtle a curve, yet it was all Rose, inescapably Rose, and merely to gaze at it had a curl of awareness--no, it was more powerful than that. It was an ache of pure longing that caught him unawares, so strong it actually
hurt.

Rozenn tossed her head so that her veil danced, and their eyes met. Her expression lightened and she stuck her tongue out.

He found a laugh and blew her a kiss. Lord, she was going to be livid when she learned what he had done. He hoped to hell she did not really care for Sir Richard, but, in order to discover the answer to that question, he first had to get her to admit to her real reasons for joining Adam. He plunged in.

'Tell me, Rose, why did Adam send for you?'

She shifted in the saddle, avoiding his eyes. 'I am in hopes that he might offer me a place at Fulford.'

Ben nodded. Yes, Duke Hoel had suggested as much. Not that Adam had been hard to persuade; he was generous to a fault and he loved his adopted sister. 'I only hope that it is safe for you in England. Not long since, the Saxons were hell-bent on ridding the place of Franks.'

'Yes.' Her voice was low, her expression concerned. 'That is one of the reasons I wish to go. I would like to see for myself that Adam, and Sir Richard, are both well.'

'Sir Richard?'

'Yes, Adam...' Rose cleared her throat, a spot of high colour on each cheek. 'Adam said that should anything befall him. I could apply to Sir Richard for assistance.'

'Sir Richard.' Cold fingers gripped Ben's heart. It had been his plan, but he did not like the look in her eyes when she mentioned the knight's name.

'Mmm.' There it was again, that dreamy expression. 'Adam told his messenger to say that I could put my trust in Richard, if anything should happen to him."

This was what he had aimed for and yet Ben frowned as the fingers tightened their grip on his heart. 'Richard.'
She thinks of the knight in familiar terms, and not by his title.

'The messenger also said,' Rose continued as the horses wound their way through a copse of hazels, 'that Richard had my best interests at heart."

Ben's fingers clenched on the leading rein. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a flash of red as a squirrel scampered down a tree trunk and scrabbled through the leaf litter, searching for cobnuts. Lifting a brow, he kept his voice level. 'What do you suppose he meant by that?'

She didn't answer at once. 'Rose?'
Lord, we are not halfway to England, and in her mind she is already wearing his ring.

His persistence had her averting her head, giving all her attention to her mare's ears. Pulling gently on the leading rein. Ben brought their horses abreast and his knee bumped hers. The squirrel, a nut triumphantly in its mouth, vanished beneath some undergrowth. A moment later, a branch rustled above them, there was another flash of red. and then silence, save for the plod. plod, plod of their horses' hoofs and the thud of his heart.

'Rose?' He wanted to be sure, he wanted her to say the words. Rose was a hearth-and-home girl. But he knew her better than anyone, he knew that she had one characteristic that might be strong enough to override her need for a simple, orderly life--ambition.

She and Sir Richard had enjoyed each other's company. Ben had seen them laughing together many a time, most notably when the man was practising his lute. He shook his head. Sir Richard might be a champion with his sword, but he certainly needed practice with his music-making. Not that Rose had found Richard of Asculf's ham-fistedness with a lute off-putting--far from it. His mind produced a clear image of the pair of them, happily ensconced in a corner of the White Bird, heads close together while the man struggled to get even the most basic of chords right.

He drew in a breath and kept his voice level. 'Adam's message came at the right time, then?'

She shot him a swift glance. 'Yes, it was very timely.'

'Would you ever consider marrying Sir Richard?' He was pleased with the casual way the question emerged. As though he didn't care, one way or the other. Except that he was beginning to realise that he did care, far more than he ought.

Her veil quivered as she gave him another darting, sideways glance. 'I think that I may," she acknowledged, flushing.

'He has not yet asked you?'

'Not in person.'

'And Adam said you could put your trust in him."

'Mmm.' That dreamy tone was back in her voice. 'Apparently Richard has my best interests at heart.'

There were those words again, at heart,
at heart.
.. Ben swallowed down a groan, though he only had himself to blame for this. 'Do you love him, Rose?" Hell, where had
that
come from?

'Love him?" She wrinkled her nose. The marigold at the neck of her gown was moving up and down with her every breath. 'He's very handsome. And strong."

'And a gallant knight," Ben muttered. Becoming aware that Rose was regarding him with a puzzled expression in her eyes, he pulled himself together. It would not do for her to become suspicious of his questioning, not when they had only just set out. 'So...' he shrugged, and gave her a flirtatious look '...it seems I have a rival.'

'A rival?" She rolled her eyes. 'Ben, be serious!"

He gave a dramatic sigh. 'I am, but it is not easy. How may a lute-player compete with a knight, particularly one like Sir Richard who outranks me on all fronts? It is enough to drive me into a monastery..."

Her eyes began to dance, her lips twitched, the marigold quivered at her breast. 'A monastery--
you?
Oh, Ben, you idiot,' she said, lips curving so compellingly that he wanted to kiss her. Briefly, she released her death grip on Jet's pommel and touched his sleeve.

Her eyes were glowing with warmth and affection, beautiful brown eyes. Ben was smiling into them when out of nowhere a fierce anger shook him to his core.

Damn Sir Richard and his knighthood with his acres in Normandy. Damn him to hell!

The road was rising on a gentle incline. Rozenn's legs were going numb--no, if truth were told, they had gone numb some miles back.

They had been on horseback for ever, or so it felt, and though the highway was beginning to open out a little, for the most part they were hemmed in by clumps of oak and beech and hazel.

'Won't the horses be tired?' she asked. 'Shouldn't they rest?'

Ben's mouth twitched as he leaned forwards to pat Piper's neck--his warm, gentle, mobile mouth, the mouth that had kissed her so beautifully... Oh. heavens, this would
not
do!

'Don't worry about them, we're only walking. Horses can walk day and night if need be."

Oh, good. Rose gave him a steady look. 'Day
and
night? You are teasing. I hope?'

'Why,
cherie,
are
you
tired? You only have to say.' He reined in and the horses came to a standstill.

Rose gave him another, more covert glance from under her eyelashes. Ever since they had set out, she had been wary of speaking to him because a disturbing thought had entered her mind, one that should perhaps have entered it somewhat earlier. Her only excuse was that she had been so busy preparing to leave Quimperle, she had not had time to think. But this afternoon, although trying not to fall off Jet, she had had plenty of time. And her thoughts made her blush.

Where would they sleep? Separately? Of course. But what if the inns were full, what if they had to sleep out in the open? She should have discussed this earlier. It was embarrassing to bring the subject up at this late stage. Ben might think that she wanted... Her cheeks flamed.

At the docks, when Ben had volunteered to escort her to Adam, she had been both pleased and relieved. She had managed to relegate that kiss in the marshes to the back of her mind. She had told herself that, delightful though she had found it, it had only been a momentary aberration on Ben's part. That kiss--together with the one he had given to Mikaela--had been but a part of his performance for Denez and the guards on the bridge. It had been no more than that.