‘You can’t do this. I will not allow it, Anna.’

He stared at her in disbelief and caught the gleam of her eyes and the faint shine of her moist lips in the moonlight.

‘You cannot stop me! I am no longer your responsibility.’

‘I saved your life,’ he said, losing his temper and pulling her into his arms. ‘Whilst I am alive, I will always feel I bear some responsibility for you.’

‘Now who is talking nonsense?’ She struggled to free herself, but it was as if she was a butterfly imprisoned in an iron fist. Suddenly she wondered why she was trying to escape when she was where she wanted to be. She drooped against him and rested her head against his chest.

Her submission was so unexpected that Jack was at a loss as to what to do next. Really he should release her and walk away, but instead he wanted to go on holding her. Hatred and grief had held him captive far too long.

June Francis’s interest in old wives’ tales and folk customs led her into a writing career. History has always fascinated her, and her first five novels were set in Medieval times. She has also written fourteen sagas based in Liverpool and Chester. Married with three grown-up sons, she lives on Merseyside. On a clear day she can see the sea and the distant Welsh hills from her house. She enjoys swimming, fell-walking, music, lunching with friends and smoochie dancing with her husband. More information about June can be found at her website: www.junefrancis.co.uk

Previous novels by this author:

ROWAN’S REVENGE

TAMED BY THE BARBARIAN

REBEL LADY, CONVENIENT WIFE

June Francis

www.millsandboon.co.uk

My thanks and appreciation to my agent, Caroline Montgomery, and senior editor, Linda Fildew, for giving me a second chance to enjoy writing Historicals for Harlequin Mills & Boon again, as well as to my editor, Suzanne Clarke, for being so enthusiastic and encouraging about my writing.

Prologue

France, 1469

Jack Milburn groaned, twisting and turning in the bunk. Perspiration dampened his dark hair as, in his dreams, he relived the nightmarish times again.

‘Go quickly! Allez vite!’ he ordered, ears alert to the sound of splintering wood.

‘Mais, M’sieur Milburn, où—?’ cried Hortense.

‘Ne pas demander aux questions,’ he interrupted, pushing the maid who was carrying his son in her arms from the chamber. He hurried her along the passage that led to the alley at the back of the house and opened the door.

‘Papa!’ screamed Philippe, stretching out a hand to his father.

With tears in his eyes, Jack took the small hand and kissed it before turning to Hortense. ‘Courez! Courez vite!’ His expression was bleak as he closed the door quietly behind them. Taking a deep breath, he drew his sword and headed for the entrance hall to face the man who had killed his lover, Monique.

The Comte de Briand stood in the doorway, a dark looming presence. Jack did not need him to step forward into the candlelight to recognise Monique’s bestial husband. The Comte’s lank hair was yellowish white and fell to his huge shoulders. His nose was a squashed blob of dough in the centre of his swarthy face and the black-and-white streaked moustache and beard almost concealed the plump lips that snarled, ‘Chien anglais!’ as he lunged forward with his sword. Jack parried the blow, aware that two other men had entered the chamber behind his enemy.

Jack ground his teeth, experiencing a familiar fury as the scene played in his head. Odds of three to one meant that the chance of his surviving the conflictwas unlikely. Still, he was determined to fight for all he was worth, so as to give Hortense plenty of time to get away with Philippe. It was too late to save Monique, but he was prepared to sacrifice his life to enable his son’s survival. His sword arm felt as heavy as lead each time he lunged and parried, and he felt as if he were wading through honey. Then came an agonising pain in his right cheek and, after that, a blow to the head that finished the fight.

‘Monique! Philippe!’

He was vaguely aware that someone was bending over him and could hear the slap of waves against the hull of a ship. For a moment he was convinced that he was in his own cabin on the Hercules and it was the Comte de Briand bending over him. He could picture his smirking face, mouthing ‘Your son is dead.’ Jack felt the scream welling up inside him and he prayed for death. But his instant death was the last thing on his enemy’s mind.

‘Signor Milburn, wake up! The physician is here to see you.’

Someone was shaking his shoulder and Jack struggled to escape the shackles that imprisoned him as he trudged on through the desert wasteland. It was sheer stubbornness that was keeping him moving, gripped as he was by an impotent rage. One day he would return to France and avenge the deaths of Monique and his son. He would seek out the Comte de Briand and kill him if it was the last thing he did.

Chapter One

England, summer 1475

The air felt hot and humid. As she left the village, Lady Anna Fenwick could hear the rumble of thunder in the distance. If she was to reach home before the rain came, then she was going to have to hurry.

Something sharp hit her on the cheek and she heard a man’s whispering voice say, ‘Take that, witch! May God strike you down dead.’

Shock brought her to a halt as blood trickled from a cut on her face. Only recently had she become aware of the servants looking at her askance and whispering in corners. Her heart was heavy as she recalled a couple of village women holding out horn-shaped amulets, believed to be effective against the evil eye, as she passed by.

‘Murderess! Adulteress!’ hissed the voice.

Anna wanted to shut her ears to the accusations. But what good would that do? She found it difficult to believe that anyone who knew her could speak of her in such a way. It was a year since her four-year-old son, Joshua, had died of the whooping cough. Her grief had been almost unbearable, worse than when her husband, Sir Giles, had died a year earlier. During the last few months she had felt ill at ease in her own home with just the servants and Giles’s nephew, the son of his dead sister, and his wife, Marjorie, for company. Whilst Giles had been alive, Will’s manner towards her had always been circumspect but she knew he resented her. He had lived with Giles since being orphaned as a youth and had been his heir until, at the age of forty, Giles had fallen in love with Anna and married her. On his death bed her husband had told her about the marital agreement that he and her eldest half-brother, Owain ap Rowan, had drawn up on the eve of Anna and Giles’s wedding.

‘You’ll burn in hell,’ said the voice, forgetting to whisper this time.

She recognised the voice and a shudder passed through her. Will! What a fool she had been to trust him this past year, but her sorrow had blinded her temporarily to his devious ways. He had believed he would inherit Fenwick Manor on Joshua’s death, but he had been mistaken. A codicil in Giles’s will had left all to Anna should aught happen to their son.

After Joshua had been laid to rest with his father, she had been emotionally exhausted and hoped that the goodly sum of money that Giles had left Will would suffice to keep him happy. She’d had reason to believe that was so, for the following day he had been so caring that she had willingly accepted his suggestion that he and Marjorie continue to live with her to keep her company. Feeling numb after this second terrible blow, she had been glad of his help in running her manor. But slowly she had come alive again and shown a determination to manage her own affairs. It was then that Will had begun to reveal a much darker side to his nature and Marjorie had become less than friendly. Yet if Anna had not overheard the gossip whispered behind her back, it would never have occurred to her that they might wish her dead.

‘Murderess,’ whispered the voice, again.

Her heart beat rapidly. ‘Come out of there and face me if you dare!’ she cried.

There was a rustling in the hedge that bordered the field of ripening corn. ‘You’ll get your deserts. Like mother, like daughter, you’ll meet the same fate as she did,’ called the voice.

The words puzzled her and she turned full circle in an attempt to pinpoint Will’s location. ‘My mother died in childbirth. Explain yourself!’

‘They lied to you.’

‘If you’re referring toOwain and Kate, I don’t believe you, Will,’ said Anna firmly, peering through the thicket of hawthorn, but unable to see him. ‘Anyway, I’ve had enough. I’m for home before the storm breaks. You and Marjorie can pack your bags and leave Fenwick.’

A flash of lightning and a crash of thunder almost drowned out her voice, warning her that the storm was nigh. Picking up her black skirts, she raced for home, wanting to be indoors before the rain came.

She took a shortcut through the herb garden where the fragrance of lavender, thyme and gillyflowers filled her senses. The air was stifling and the earth was thirsty for moisture. She tore open the wicket gate and ran towards the back of the house. Once indoors she expected to find some of the servants in the kitchen but it was empty. She searched the ground floor, but there was no one there. Had they all decided to desert her whilst she was out of the house? What about Marjorie, who had still been abed when Anna had left to walk to the village an hour or so ago? Perhaps she and her maid were upstairs.

Anna took the stairs two at a time to the first floor but she saw no one as she made her way along the passage to her bedchamber. She felt hot and sticky and decided to change her garments as soon as she was in the safety of its confines. She pushed open the door and froze as a figure stepped out of the shadows. There was a crash of thunder and it seemed to echo the pounding of her heart as she gazed at the demonic red face with horns protruding from its head. A red cloak swirled about the black-clad apparition as it moved towards her. She backed away and would have turned to run if the door had not slammed behind her.

‘Have your way with her quickly and then I’ll see she burns,’ said Will’s voice behind her.

Terror overwhelmed her as she felt a shove in her back that catapulted her towards the gruesome figure. Black-gloved hands seized her, holding her in a vicelike grip. She was aware of heavy breathing and averted her face. On doing so, she realised that a couple of inches of flesh showed between glove and sleeve. This creature was no devil, but human. Anna sank her teeth into his wrist and drew blood. A curse issued from beneath the devilish mask and then he was tearing at her clothes. She struggled violently, aware of Will’s laughter in the background.

‘You’ll regret this,’ she panted, attempting to prise the man’s hands from her breast.

As soon as she spoke those words a flash lit up the darkened sky outside her window and there was a violent crash of thunder that shook the whole house. Her captor jumped violently as there came a roar and a crackle from overhead. She looked up and saw smoke issuing from a break in the ceiling. He began to shake and released her abruptly.

She glanced at Will and saw the fear in his face. She put out a steadying hand to the bedpost and clutched her torn garments so that they covered her nakedness. ‘How dare you lay hands on me! You will pay for this infamy,’ cried Anna, pointing an accusing finger at him. ‘Leave now or it will be you and your accomplice who will burn.’

Will’s eyes darted from her to that devilish figure. Then he wrenched open the door and shot out of the chamber. Anna’s assailant quickly followed hot on his heels. She collapsed on to the bed. Her shaking hands still clutching her ruined gown of black linsey-woolsey. She could hear the thudding of their feet on the stairs as they made their escape. For a moment, she did not move and then the smell of smoke caused her to gaze upwards. More thin streams of smoke were issuing through other cracks in the ceiling and she realised the thatch must be alight. She had to get out of there!

She sprang to her feet, thinking there were items that were precious to her in this room that she must save, in case the whole house caught fire. She changed out of her torn garments and into another gown. She hurried to pack a few clothes, legal papers, Giles’s precious parchments, as well as items essential for her toilet. Then she fastened a pouch, containing as much coin as she could carry, about her waist. The sound of breaking glass, as the window shattered, caused her to jump out of her skin. She must make haste. From the chest at the foot of the bed, she took out her tapestry work and then lifted her lute from the wall. The instrument had been a Christmas gift from her half-brother Owain, made in Venice and delivered into her hands by merchant venturer Jack Milburn. He had vanished whilst in France six years ago.

Swiftly she wrapped the instrument in the folds of the tapestry and tucked it under her arm. She gave one last glance about the room. Here she had spent many contented moments, as well as heartbreaking ones. Giles had breathed his last and her son had died in her arms in this bed. With tears trickling down her cheeks, she hurried from the bedchamber. With a bundle held up to her nose and mouth against the smoke, she raced along the passage, only to pause when she reached the door of Will and Marjorie’s bedchamber.

She could hear snoring and remembered that she had been going to look in on Marjorie. She banged on their door. ‘Marjorie! Is that you in there? Wake up! The roof is on fire and you must get out of the house.’

Therewas no reply, but Anna thought she heard a break in the snoring. She lifted the latch, but the door did not yield so she banged again. ‘Marjorie, you must get up!’

A sleepy voice called, ‘Go away!’

‘No! Rise and save yourself,’ said Anna, attempting to open the door once more.

‘I will not!’ Marjorie yawned. ‘Will said I must not listen to aught you say because you will cast a spell on me.’

An exasperated Anna said, ‘It is not true! I don’t know why Will should say such things, but I am no witch. Do get up or you could die in your bed.’

‘I’m not listening,’ said Marjorie in a sing-song voice. ‘I have my hands over my ears.’

Anna groaned. ‘Marjorie, don’t be a fool! If you do not leave now, it could be the end of you.’ When there was no answer, her heart sank. If she herself did not hurry, then she, too, could be trapped in the house by the fire. What was Will thinking of to leave his own wife possibly to die in her bed? And whose face was behind that devilish mask? She prayed to God to protect her from the pair if they were laying in wait for her somewhere downstairs, or in the grounds. She called to Marjorie again but she did not answer her.

With a terrible sense of foreboding, Anna hurried downstairs. She went through the hall, but it was deserted. Cautiously, she entered the kitchen, but that, too, was empty. She went outside, but there was no sign of anyone. She placed her belongings outside the stable and then gazed up at her house. The whole roof was aflame. Pausing only to remove the veiling that covered her wimple, she soaked it in a water butt before running back to the house. She had to try to persuade Marjorie to leave one more time.

Anna covered her nose and mouth with the wet veiling and hurried upstairs as fast as she could through the ever-increasing smoke. She found Marjorie lying prone outside her bedchamber door. She was still alive, but scarcely breathing. Anna wiped Marjorie’s face with the damp cloth, but still she did not stir. Anna felt a rising panic and struggled to lift the other woman to her feet, but she could not do it, so instead she dragged her along the passage towards the stairs.

Anna’s chest was wheezing and she was fighting for breath by the time she got Marjorie outside. Then she herself collapsed on to the ground beside her. It seemed an age before Anna felt able to make the effort to pull Marjorie farther away from the house on to the grass. There she sank to the ground again and this time it seemed longer still before she had the strength to get to her knees. To her dismay, Marjorie had ceased breathing despite all Anna’s efforts.

She staggered to her feet and gazed at her house; she could only stand by helplessly as the flames consumed her home. Her heart felt like a stone inside her. She had loved this house, but with her husband and son gone from this earth, it had been a lasting reminder of the sadness of their deaths. She wept afresh for them and the happy times spent inside its walls, as well as for Marjorie.

‘Why has fate dealt me such agonising blows?’ cried Anna to the skies. ‘Are you punishing me, God?’

No heavenly voice answered her and, frustratingly, the storm clouds had passed, spilling hardly any rain. But where was Will and his accomplice? She could not place any faith in his caring about her safety, but what about his wife? She doubted he would accept that she had tried to save Marjorie. Instead, she was convinced he would use that timely flash of lightning and his wife’s death to strengthen his accusation that Anna was a witch. A chill of fear ran through her. She had to leave here now, in case the two men returned, and ride for her old home at Rowan Manor. Owain and his wife, Kate, had reared her from babyhood and she could trust them to help her.

Fortunately the fire had not spread to the outbuildings and she went in search of her saddle and bridle. On finding them, she paused only long enough to drink some water and pack her belongings in a pair of saddlebags, before hurrying to where her horse was cropping the grass in a nearby field. Nervously, she kept looking over her shoulder. No doubt Will would realise she had survived the flames when he saw that her horse was missing. It was possible that he might even guess her destination and follow her. But hopefully, she would have enough of a head start to manage to escape his clutches. Rowan Manor lay several leagues away; although she felt weary with fear and grief, she prayed that God would have mercy and enable her to reach Owain and Kate before nightfall.

Anna darted a look behind her and thought she caught sight of a lone rider half a mile or so to her rear. Terror caused her heart to jerk within her breast. She could not see him clearly, but was convinced it was Will and wondered what had happened to his accomplice. She had ridden some five leagues along byways and tracks through the Palatine of Chester and her whole body ached after her ordeal. But she was now within a couple of miles of Rowan Manor and urged her palfrey from a canter to a gallop. She was relieved that the sky had cleared and the ground was neither too wet nor too dry, only yielding slightly beneath her horse’s hooves. God willing, she would reach Rowan before Will caught up with her. She whispered encouragement in her horse’s ear and dared to risk another glance behind her.

To her dismay, the rider was now close enough for her to recognise Will’s cadaverous features and tall, bony figure. She told herself that she must not let fear disable her, causing her to lose control of her horse. Ahead lay the crossroads that signalled the turning into the lane that led to Rowan. Once she was within the bounds of Owain’s lands, then most likely there would be men in the fields and she would be safe.

As her horse took the turning, Anna saw too late the sycamore split in half, so that part had fallen and blocked the path. Her horse reared and, despite all her effort to remain in the saddle, she was thrown to the ground. Luckily she landed on grass, but the breath was knocked out of her. The shock of the fall affected her vision so that colours appeared to be washed out of everything. Feeling half-blind, she gasped for breath, scared that her horse would lose its balance and crush her. She forced herself to make the attempt to claw her way out of the reach of its flailing hooves. Then, unexpectedly, she was seized by the back of her cloak and hoisted into the air. Deposited in a sprawling heap in front of a saddlebow, she was aware of the scent of sandalwood and male muskiness. She struggled frantically to gain control of her limbs and get a grip on the horse.

‘Hold tight,’ ordered an unfamiliar, steely voice.

Relieved that it was not Will who had arrived on the scene first, Anna did her best to comply with the man’s order. Still suffering from the effects of her fall, obedience proved difficult; she could feel herself slipping from the beast. Simultaneously, she realised that her rescuer had managed to control her horse. Its front hooves were on the ground; despite a great deal of snorting and blowing from the animal, all this had been accomplished in a matter of moments. But before Anna could catch a proper look at the man, she completely lost her balance and toppled to the ground.

This time she managed to land on her feet. Finally upright, on solid ground, her first thought was for the horse that had been hers since it was a foal. She loved her mare dearly and hastened to comfort her, stroking her nose and whispering soothing words into its flickering ear. So it came as a complete surprise to find herself being seized again from behind. This time she felt as if she was being strangled as she was yanked off her feet and placed face down across a very different horse. She was in no doubt about who dared to mishandle her in such a way.

A hand pressed down on her head and Will snarled, ‘Keep your eyes away from me, witch’s daughter, or it will be the worse for you.’

‘By the Trinity, what do you think you’re doing?’ demanded Anna’s rescuer in a harsh voice. ‘Release her at once or you will taste steel!’

She tried to get to get a glimpse of him, but that proved impossible with Will’s hand crushing her face into his horse’s neck. ‘Keep out of my affairs,’ said Will. ‘This one’s a witch and a murderess, just like her mother, and will burn for her latest foul deed.’

‘It’s not true,’ gasped Anna in a muffled voice.

‘Shut your mouth, madam!’ ordered Will, pressing down harder on her head.

‘Did you not hear me?’ thundered her rescuer. ‘Release her at once, I say.’

‘If you value your life, I suggest you keep out of this,’ warned Will. ‘I repeat, this woman is a witch and she is dangerous.’

‘If that were true, then you should have more sense than to treat her so disgracefully,’ said her rescuer, his tone deceptively soft. ‘I will not ask you again to release her.’

‘Who are you that I should obey such commands?’ sneered Will, reaching for the amulet about his neck. ‘This protects me. Now go before she bewitches you.’

As soon as Anna felt Will remove his hand, she lifted her head so as to see how her rescuer would respond. He had manoeuvred his horse alongside Will’s mount and her first sight of him was of long muscular legs clad in black hose and leather boots, clamped against his horse’s flanks. Raising her eyes, she saw that he sat tall in the saddle. His shoulders were broad beneath a black woollen doublet that was open at the neck to reveal a white shirt and sunburnt throat. A scar snaked down his right cheek, lending a certain harshness to his features. Suddenly she became aware of chilling blue-grey eyes beneath hooded dark brows returning her gaze. Her heart performed a peculiar somersault; there was something familiar about this man. Yet she could not remember where she had seen him before.

Even so she said, ‘Of your courtesy, sir, I beg you not to listen to him. None of what he says is true.’

Her rescuer inclined his dark head. ‘From my experience it is a great mistake to leave women to the mercy of cruel bullies.’

Will flushed with anger. ‘You should not have gazed upon her. Already, she has bewitched you. I tell you that she has bad blood in her. Not only is she a witch, but murdered her husband because she had a lover!’

‘You speak false,’ cried Anna indignantly, digging her gloved fingers into Will’s leg in an attempt to drag herself upright. Instantly he slapped her hand away.

Within seconds her rescuer had seized Will’s wrist and had his knife at his throat. ‘I did warn you,’ he said in an icy tone.

Will’s eyes glinted with fury. ‘You’ll rue this day, for daring to set your will against mine, stranger.’

‘You would be wiser thinking before you open your mouth. First, you threaten a so-called witch and then the man holding a knife to your throat. You will beg the lady’s pardon or I will slit you from ear to ear.’

Her rescuer’s voice reminded Anna of iron encased in velvet and she shivered, despite herself.

‘If you—you think you c-can get away with m-my murder then you’re mistaken,’ stuttered Will. ‘There are those who know my errand and she will burn and so will you.’

‘I don’t know how you can live with your conscience, Will,’ cried Anna angrily. ‘And what about Marjorie? Where were you when my house was burning and she was in need of rescue? You lied to her, too, and so you are to blame for her death!’

An unexpected sob broke from Will. ‘I did not intend for her to die. I thought she would have gone with the servants. Only they said…’ His face turned ugly again. ‘It is your fault, you witch!’

Without hesitation the stranger slashed the ties that fastened Will’s cloak, causing him to squeal in terror. Hastily he stammered out an apology to Anna.

‘Louder,’ ordered his captor.

Will swore, but the prick of the blade drawing blood had him yelling out the words.

Anna did not feel sorry for him at all; she wanted to get down from his horse and be rid of him. She had done her best by him, but he had betrayed her. ‘Thank you, sir,’ she said to the stranger. ‘But I deem that will do for now.’

‘If that is your wish.’ Her rescuer replaced the dagger at his belt and loosened his grip on Will’s wrist. Immediately the villain attempted to push Anna to the ground, but the other man acted with speed, seizing her by the waist and dragging her on to his horse. Will cursed the pair of them and then digging his spurs into his stallion’s flanks, he rode off in the opposite direction to Rowan Manor.

Weak with relief, Anna clung to the front of her rescuer’s doublet, conscious of the strength in the arm that held her. ‘I’m afraid that, by rescuing me, you’ve made an enemy, sir.’

‘I would have done the same for any woman in distress,’ he said coolly, disturbed by the response of a certain part of his anatomy to the close proximity of her soft curves and the scent of lavender that mingled with a strong smell of smoke. He told himself this would not do; he could not allow himself to be distracted from the task he had set himself. ‘What is your destination?’ he asked, slackening his grasp on her waist.

‘I am on my way to Rowan Manor, the home of my half-brother Owain ap Rowan. But let me introduce myself—I am Lady Anna Fenwick.’ She proffered him a hand gloved in dirty tan kid.

He stared at her intently before shaking that small, firm hand. ‘I deem we are already acquainted, Lady Fenwick, although it is some time since we met. My name is Milburn. I will escort you to Rowan as that is also my destination.’

Anna’s grimy brow knitted as she gazed into his weatherbeaten face. It had been some time since last she had visited Matt Milburn’s manor in Yorkshire. ‘My thanks to you. Your escort is much appreciated, as was your coming to my aid.’ He gave a brief nod of acceptance for her words of gratitude. She marvelled at his strong features and wondered about the scar on his face. She was almost tempted to touch it, but reminded herself that he was a married man with children. Such an act would be unseemly and, after Will’s accusation of her being an adulteress, her behaviour must be above reproach. Even so she could not resist saying, ‘That scar—’ She stopped abruptly for there was embarrassment and some deep sorrow in his face. ‘I beg your pardon. I shouldn’t have mentioned it. If you could set me down, Master Milburn, I will ride my own mount.’

Relieved to have temptation so swiftly removed, he helped her to the ground, watching Anna as she went over to her horse. She called over her shoulder, ‘When did you leave Yorkshire? It must have taken you several days to get here.’

‘I did not ride. I have a ship, the Hercules, anchored off West Kirby in the Dee estuary.’

His words surprised her into turning and staring at him. ‘Now that I did not expect to hear. Have you had news of Jack after all this time or are you here to buy horses from Owain?’

He smiled faintly. ‘You mistake me for my twin, Lady Fenwick. I am Jack Milburn.’ His eyes fastened on her luscious lips as they parted in astonishment. He took the opportunity to have a proper look at her for a few seconds. Beneath her light summer cloak, she wore a loose black gown made of quality linsey-woolsey cloth that did little to conceal her curves. Wisps of redgold hair escaped her wimple to curl on a bloodied and grimy cheek. Had that swine attacked her? She appeared lost for words—but was that surprising considering the years he had been missing?

He noticed the lute poking from a fold of material in a saddlebag and memories flooded back as he was reminded of the year his father had been murdered in Bruges. He remembered a mischievous-eyed girl, whose elfin features had beamed with delight when he had presented her with the Venetian crafted lute. She had seemed so alive, her red hair like a flame about her pretty little face. He had been fifteen at the time and, in any other circumstances, a future marriage might have been on his mind, only that year had proved to him that the life of a merchant venturer was extremely risky. Taking a wife would have to wait until he had made his fortune and the time was ripe to settle down in one place.

Anna found her voice. ‘But—but you’ve been missing for years! We thought you were dead. We even had a requiem mass said for you.’

‘So I was informed by your half-brother Davy.’

‘Davy? What has your absence to do with him?’

‘It has naught to do with him,’ replied Jack, hastening to add, ‘It is solely that he was on business in Europe when I returned and he performed a commission for me. I’m surprised that you have not heard that I’d…come back from the dead.’

She looked bemused. ‘It is a while since I have visited Rowan, but I agree that it is strange that Kate did not send word of your safe return. Maybe it was due to my closeting myself in the house after my son died, although my late husband’s nephew and his wife lived with me and they would have been there to take a message.’ A shadow crossed her face. ‘I wonder if Will destroyed it. Possibly it might have arrived when I sought spiritual consolation in a nearby convent.’

So the man he had just scared off was her husband’s nephew, mused Jack, wondering why the man was so intent on convincing folk that Anna was a witch. But he must not involve himself in her affairs as he had enough on his mind without concerning himself about her. ‘I’d heard you lost your husband and son. I can understand how that must feel and extend my condolences,’ said Jack with a stiffness in his manner that was almost cold.

‘Thank you,’ she said, debating whether he could really understand how painful was the loss of a dearly loved child and husband, for as far as she knew he had never wed. Unless…perhaps he thought that losing a parent was equal to the terrible wrenching grief that was the loss of one’s child. She took a deep steadying breath. ‘I am pleased to see you alive, Jack. What happened to you? That scar—’ She stopped abruptly. ‘There I go again. Obviously, the memory is painful. You have suffered, too.’ She felt tears well up in her eyes and hastily brushed them away.

‘Damn you,’ muttered Jack, turning his back to her.

Howhe hated seeing a woman in tears. It put him too much in mind of his final parting from Monique and Philippe before he had left for England, knowing he would not see either of them for a month or more. He would have taken them both with him, but Monique had refused to cross the Channel. Some happening in her past had filled her with a fear of the sea and he could not shift her from her decision. If he had suspected that her husband was on their trail, then he would have insisted that she and Philippe accompany him.

‘I should not have asked. I beg your pardon for prying in your affairs,’ apologised Anna in a low voice that roused Jack from his thoughts.

‘There’s no need for you to do so,’ he said tersely, keeping his back to her, determined not to allow the sight of her tear-stained face to weaken him. ‘Naturally you’re curious about what happened to me. Another time, perhaps, I will tell you.’

He considered how strange it was that he had been able to recall Anna’s childish features so quickly. Yet, during his enslavement in Arabia, he’d had difficulty remembering Monique’s face. It was not that he had forgotten the colour of her hair and eyes or the shape of her nose and the feel of her lips. What he’d been unable to do was compose an actual image of her whole face. Yet his son’s face continued to haunt his dreams. Reason enough for him to not allow a sudden protective feeling and tug of attraction to the mature Anna to sway him from his chosen path.

‘I look forward to hearing your story,’ murmured Anna, gazing at his strong back before giving her attention to her horse once more. Suddenly she noticed that a girth strap hung loose. ‘Jack, if you please, I would have you look at this strap.’

He walked over to her and took hold of the girth strap she proffered. He noticed the leather was not only partially torn, but also sawn through. ‘You believe this was done deliberately?’ he asked, raising his dark brows.

‘I am the only one who uses this saddle.’ Anna’s eyes were angry as she tapped a finger against the leather. ‘I am certain Will must have done this, to bring me down if I managed to ride for help. If I broke my neck, it would save his having to rile the villagers further into burning me. I deem that he believes by destroying me he will gain Fenwick Manor.’

‘That would make sense of his insistence on your being a witch and wanting rid of you,’ said Jack, reluctantly drawn into a discussion. ‘Yet why should he gain it on your death…unless there was a clause in your husband’s will?’

‘There was no such clause. Neither is he my nearest kin that it would pass to him on my death.’

Jack’s frown deepened. ‘It does not make sense.’

Anna nodded. ‘But envy is a terrible emotion, Jack.’

He agreed, fingering the cut girth strap, knowing she would not remain in the saddle with the strap in that state. Yet for her to share his horse would be untenable. As for her riding his stallion…

‘Enough of such talk,’ murmured Anna, noticing the sun dipping beyond the horizon. ‘It is time we made a move. I’ll lead my horse as the house is only a short distance away. I suggest, Jack, that you ride on and inform Owain and Kate to expect me.’

‘I would offer you my hired horse but I doubt you’d be able to handle him.’

She looked up at the stallion’s powerful shoulders and knew he spoke the truth. Taking hold of her horse’s bridle, she nodded in the direction of the manor. ‘You go ahead. I will follow.’

Jack hesitated. He knew he could not leave her to walk alone. That cur of a nephew might return. But he hated being ordered about; he’d had enough of that in captivity. He experienced one of those flashbacks that left him cold. He was being forced to his knees and could almost feel the lash of the whip flaying his back. He had not even known why he was being punished, understanding little of the language of his master. It was then he had determined to learn Arabic and to escape.

‘Why do you linger, Jack? Mount your horse and ride on. I will be perfectly safe,’ reassured Anna.

Jack scowled down at her, resenting the instruction. ‘I say it is a fine evening and there will be light in the sky long enough for us both to walk and reach the house before it gets dark.’

Anna flashed him a smile. ‘If that is your wish. No doubt both horses will be glad to be relieved of their burdens for a while. I have ridden mine hard and presumably you have, too.’ She heaved a sigh. ‘What a day it has been and it is not over yet.’

She was aware of a terrible sense of displacement, realising afresh that she was homeless. Although the loss she felt at the destruction of her home could not compare to the grief she still felt for her son, this was just another pain to bear. Tears pricked the back of her eyes and she blinked them away, knowing she must not give way to weakness.

She looked up and caught Jack Milburn watching her. There was a bleakness in his expression that caused her to wonder what had happened to him during the years he had been missing. For the rest of the journey, she kept her eyes fixed on the road ahead, thinking how he had changed almost out of all recognition from the youth she remembered.

Chapter Two

It was a relief to see the sandstone walls of Rowan Manor. Anna’s heart lifted and she thanked the Trinity that soon she would be inside its walls to be welcomed by Kate and Owain and the rest of the family.

She handed her horse over to one of the grooms and removed her saddlebags and lute. Jack, who was unsaddling his own mount, said, ‘Leave them. I’ll carry them in for you when I’m ready.’

She thanked him. So many thoughts were running through her head that she felt quite dizzy. She did not wish to upset Kate and Owain too much and knew she was going to have to think hard about what she should tell them. Turning back to Jack, she said, ‘Please, I beg you, do not mention your confrontation with Will to Kate. They will be deeply concerned about the evil that has befallen me without having to worry about my involving you in my affairs.’

He was about to say he thought she was making a mistake, then he remembered the secret he had kept hidden for years, even from his twin. Besides, hadn’t he decided to not involve himself further with her?

Filled with trepidation, Anna hurried towards the walled garden at the back of the house, guessing that at that time of evening Kate and Owain would be in their parlour. She was not mistaken. Both were sitting in the candlelit room.

As soon as Anna entered the parlour, Kate, a curvaceous woman in her early forties, set aside her sewing and rose to her feet. ‘Anna, what are you doing here? We did not expect to see you until the Michaelmas Fair. My goodness! You’re filthy! What has happened? Is there something amiss at Fenwick?’

‘Indeed there is,’ replied Anna. ‘The house was struck by lightning and all my servants had vanished, so there was no one to help me to douse the flames.’

Kate gasped and, going over to her, enveloped Anna in an embrace. ‘My poor Anna, what a dreadful thing to happen! What of Will and his wife?’

‘Marjorie was sleeping at the time. I managed to get her out of the house, but she died!’ Anna’s voice shook and she tore herself from Kate’s embrace and began to pace the room. ‘It was terrifying. Will had accused me of—’ She stopped abruptly, realising what she had said.

‘Accused you of what?’ asked Kate, starting forward.

Anna shrugged and tried to smile. ‘It does not matter.’

‘Of course it matters,’ said Owain, a handsome man in his mid-forties with dark hair silvering at the temples. ‘You’ve been through so much these past two years and now this! If we are to help you, then you must be honest with us.’

Anna’s face quivered. She had talked herself into a trap and knew she would have to tell them some of what Will had said. ‘He—he accused me of—of being an adulteress—just like my mother!’ She put a hand over her mouth. She had not meant to say the latter either. It showed the state of her mind. Kate and Owain exchanged startled glances. ‘Aye, you might well look like that,’ Anna muttered.

‘What nonsense!’ cried Kate, putting an arm about Anna’s shoulder and noticing the cut on her face. ‘Your cheek is all bloodied! Did that happen while you were trying to escape the fire?’

‘No. Will threw a stone at me,’ said Anna, taking a kerchief from a pocket and dabbing at the cut and then cleaning her face, realising she would have to tell them a little more. ‘I deem he wanted me to believe it was someone from the village, but I recognised his voice. I fear that he wishes to discredit me with the servants and villagers and seize Fenwick.’

‘He must be crazed,’ said Kate, aghast. ‘Owain, you must sort this matter out as soon as possible.’

‘I certainly will,’ said Owain firmly. ‘Although, with the house burnt down and his wife dead, I suspect it is the village where I’ll need to search for him. I’d best take some men with me.’

‘If he is not there, you could try my man-ofbusiness’s house in Chester,’ said Anna. ‘No doubt Will shall try and persuade him that I’m not a fit person to own Fenwick.’

‘You really believe so?’ said Owain, looking deeply concerned. He rose from a table littered with papers. ‘Sit down. You’re obviously distraught and exhausted and need to rest. Kate, fetch some wine.’

Anna sighed. ‘Howcan I relax? I have lost all that I held dear and now I am at a loss how to go on with my life.’

Kate looked disturbed. ‘Hush, love. All will be well.’

‘That is so easy to say,’ cried Anna, tears filling her eyes. ‘I know a house can be rebuilt—but what would be the point? It would not be a home. I might as well go live in a nunnery.’

‘Now that is nonsense,’ said Kate. ‘You’re too young and comely. All you need is to stay with us for a while. I thought when Joshua died that it was a mistake for you to shut yourself away at Fenwick.’

Anna turned on her. ‘You have not lost a son! How can you speak so when you have no experience of what I was suffering?’

‘Talking about it might have helped,’ said Kate quietly. ‘But you wouldn’t let us share your pain.’

‘Enough, love,’ saidOwain, giving her awarning look.

She sighed and nodded. ‘I’ll fetch the wine.’

‘Wait!’ said Anna, ashamed of herself for losing control. Staying Kate with an outstretched hand, she swallowed hard before continuing. ‘I beg your pardon for what I said, but now you’ve reminded me that I have forgotten to tell you that Jack Milburn is here. He says that he has come to see Davy. I mistook him for his twin. Why did you not let me know that Jack had been found?’

‘Jack is here!’ Kate’s blue eyes lit up. ‘It is true we knew he was alive and have been expecting him. But believe me, Anna, I did send word to you at Fenwick with the good news.’

Anna frowned. ‘Who did you send?’

‘Hal.’

‘Hal!’ Anna darted a look at Owain. Hal was the youngest of the Rowan brothers and still unwed despite being almost forty years old. ‘Perhaps he did not deliver the message…or, if he did, Will kept it from me. But why should he do so?’

‘I have no idea,’ said Owain. ‘We could ask Hal when he comes in.’

Anna shrugged. ‘What does it matter now Jack is here?’

Owain and Kate looked relieved.

‘I’ll leave you two then,’ said Kate, smiling. ‘I’ll have one of the maids make ready your old bedchamber, Anna, while I find my dear stepbrother. We will drink wine together and drink each other’s health. Are you hungry?’

Anna nodded. ‘I have not eaten since breakfast and no doubt Jack will be hungry, too.’

‘Then I will see that food is brought here.’ Kate left them alone at last.

‘Do you know what happened to Jack during his absence, Owain?’ asked Anna.

‘He was sold into slavery,’ he said, his expression grim.

Anna’s mouth fell open. For a moment she could only stare at him and then she collected her wits. ‘He sent word telling you of this?’

‘Nay. His twin did,’ replied Owain. ‘Matt never gave up hope, even when we did. He kept in touch with Jack’s agents in Europe and had them hire men to search for him. Eventually, when Matt began to doubt his instinct that Jack was in trouble but alive, a courier arrived with the news that he was in Venice.’

‘No wonder Jack has changed! How was he captured and how did he escape?’

‘I know only what Davy told me and that was little enough,’ said Owain, pulling up a chair and sitting opposite her.

‘Jack told me Davy was in Europe when he returned. I presume he was delivering horses.’

‘Aye. But he also had other business there and was in Bruges when Jack’s courier turned up at the agent’s house. Apparently Jack was suffering from a fever and that’s why he was unable to leave Venice. He feared he might die and wanted Matt to know of his abduction and his years of slavery.’

‘So Davy brought the message to Matt and then came here?’

Owain shook his head. ‘Davy arranged for a courier to deliver the news to Matt whilst he travelled to Venice. He found Jack recovered and journeyed with him to Bruges before going on further business for him to France. Davy returned home a week ago, just in time to see his daughter born.’

‘Joan has had a daughter!’ Despite her grief at the loss of her only son, Anna was delighted for the couple, who had five sons. ‘I must buy the child a birth gift when next I visit Chester,’ she added.

‘I’m sure Davy will tell you that you’re welcome to visit them,’ said Owain, smiling. ‘And I’ll have no talk of nunneries.’ He shook his head. ‘You know you’re welcome to stay here at Rowan as long as you wish. It’ll be good for you to be amongst your family again.’ Anna was silent. She had been away from Rowan too long to fit easily into her former position in the family. Yet where else could she go where she would be safe but here or behind the walls of a convent?

Restlessly, she rose and went over to the window aperture and gazed out over the darkened garden. The happenings of the day played over in her head and she felt sick with the remembrance of the disgust and terror she had felt when confronted by Will and that figure in the devilish mask. She felt her head was going to burst as images overrode each other. She turned round to face Owain and blurted out, ‘Tell me…did my mother have a lover? Did she cuckold our father?’

Owain’s expression was enough to make her wish that she had not spoken. Then a sound at the door shattered the strained atmosphere. ‘Did who cuckold our father?’ asked Davy, entering the parlour.

Anna felt the blood rush to her head and could only gaze at this giant of a man. He was the middle of the Rowan brothers and she knew him the least best of the three. He had married before she was born and lived on the Wirral with his wife and children, having his own stud farm. Suddenly she realised that Kate and Jack Milburn had followed him into the room. Anna wished she could disappear in a puff of smoke. Instead, she turned her back on them.

The moon had risen and she could make out the shapes of bushes and plants. Then, unexpectedly, she saw a devilish face loom out of the darkness. Her masked attacker! She could see the horns on its head and the same gaping, evil grin. She froze with fear. Was it a projection of her overwrought mind?

She managed to tear her gaze away and face the room. ‘There’s someone out there!’ she cried.

‘You look like you’ve seen a ghost,’ said Davy.

‘A devil’s face! It was grinning at me,’ she gasped.

‘It can’t be,’ said Kate, hurrying over to her.

‘There was someone out there,’ whispered Anna. ‘It had a red face and horns!’ She just stopped herself from saying that she had seen it before.

Davy and Owain exchanged glances. ‘One of my sons playing a trick with that old mask?’ suggested the latter.

‘What mask?’ asked Anna, shooting him a glance. ‘Are you telling me that you have such a mask in this house?’

Owain nodded. ‘I’m sorry it gave you such a fright. I’ll tan the hide off whichever of my sons did this to you,’ he said angrily.

‘But why should your boys play such a jape on me?’ asked Anna, unconvinced that either Gareth or his younger brother were responsible.

Kate said apologetically, ‘Boys will be boys. I’m so sorry, Anna.’

Jack frowned. He knew only to well the kind of ploys that boys could get up to, but this was not amusing. The sight of Anna’s strained pale face made him feel he had to find the boys and prove to her that it was simply a foolish prank. He left the parlour and followed the passage to the door that led outside.

He was instantly aware of the scent of honeysuckle, roses and gillyflowers combined with a strong smell of smoke, but there was no one in the garden. He thought he heard a faint sound coming from the stable yard and made his way there. But it, too, was deserted. He went into the stables and asked one of the men there had he seen either of the Rowan lads. He shook his head.

Frowning, Jack returned to the garden, wondering if Anna’s imagination had run away with her. It was not so surprising, considering all she had endured that day. Even so, he thought to check the soil beneath the window and saw large footprints. There was the proof that someone had stood here. He went inside the house and walked into the parlour.

‘Well?’ asked Owain, glancing in Jack’s direction. ‘Did you see anyone?’

Jack shook his head. ‘But there are footprints in the soil outside.’ He kept silent about the prints being the size of a man’s.

Anna thanked him. ‘At least you’ve proven tome that I’m not losing my wits.’ She told herself that there was probably more than one such devil’s mask in the Palatine of Chester. They were made for mummers’ plays or the mystery ones acted out at certain holy festivals.

‘It is to be expected that you might be a little lightheaded and confused after all you’ve been through,’ said Kate sympathetically. ‘I’ll give you a sleeping draught, so you can have a good night’s sleep. From now on we’ll take care of you.’

Instead of easing Anna’s mind, Kate’s words made her feel uncomfortable. She did not relish being treated like a child again. Fortunately, at that moment several servants entered the parlour, carrying trays of food and wine.

‘Refreshments at last,’ said Kate, sounding relieved.

With an effort Anna set aside her anxieties. Now she knew a little more about what Jack had suffered, she wondered whether she might be able to draw him out on the subject. But she lost the opportunity because wain had taken him aside and she heard him say, ‘It’s onderful to see you again, Jack. From the little I’ve eard of your adventures, you’re fortunate to be alive.’

Jack shrugged broad shoulders. ‘I’m glad to have been given a second chance.’

Owain looked vaguely puzzled. ‘You mean that this time you’re in England you plan to find yourself a wife and raise a family. I have a daughter who might suit you.’

His words surprised Anna into joining in their conversation. ‘I thought you’d found a husband for Beth, Owain.’

‘No. She refused him,’ he said with a grimace. ‘Her head is filled with romantic tales of handsome knights in armour, prepared to commit acts of derring-do for a lady. Alas, a wealthy goldsmith with a fine house in Chester is not good enough for my daughter.’

Anna said wryly, ‘I remember dreaming of handsome knights once upon a time.’

‘You did marry a knight,’ reminded Owain.

‘That is true. Giles fought in King Henry’s French wars when he was young.’ She turned to Jack. ‘You never met my husband, did you?’

‘Alas, no. I was in France on business when you were betrothed,’ he said smoothly.

‘Of course. How could I forget.’ Anna removed her soiled gloves and folded them inside her girdle. She accepted a goblet of wine from a serving-man. ‘Sir Giles was a kind and generous husband and I grew to love him. You chose well, Owain, when you accepted his offer for my hand.’

‘Thank you, Anna,’ said Owain, looking gratified. ‘Will you repeat those words to my daughter when you see her? At the moment she is staying at Joan and Davy’s house, helping with the children.’ He turned to Jack. ‘So what do you say to my suggestion? Beth will come to you with a generous dowry if you were to take her for wife.’

‘I doubt I’d fit Beth’s notion of a handsome husband with this scarred ugly face of mine,’ replied Jack in a stilted voice.

Anna made a murmur of protest. ‘Not ugly, Jack.’

He raised disbelieving eyebrows. ‘There’s no need to pretend, Anna. Besides, I’m not looking for a bride. As it is, I can only stay for one night as I still have business in France that occupies my mind.’

Owain’s smile faded. ‘You would leave us so soon?’

‘I have no choice in the matter. The news of events in France, which Davy has brought me, means I mustn’t delay. We both plan to leave at first light and will travel part of the road together.’

‘I will not ask you what this business is, but you will take care?’ saidOwain. ‘We do not want to lose you again.’

‘You must not worry about me, Owain,’ said Jack, his expression uncompromising.

Anna wondered if his business in France had aught to do with what had happened to him six years ago, but received the impression that questions would be unwelcome.

‘Then let us drink a toast to Jack,’ said Owain.

‘Indeed, we will,’ said Kate, smiling at her stepbrother. ‘To your good health, Jack.’ She raised her goblet.

Anna echoed her words as she gazed at the man who had rescued her. He had been handsome before, but he was mistaken in believing she considered him ugly. There was that about his face now which went deeper than pure good looks. Suddenly she wanted to know the man behind that scarred visage. ‘This is a fine wine,’ she said, sipping the rioja.

‘Is it one we supplied to you, Owain?’ asked Jack.

‘Aye. You can trust your agents. They carried on your business as if you were still there giving them their orders,’ he replied.

Jack agreed inwardly that they had proved their worth, but reckoned that was due to his older twin’s belief and determination that he still lived. Perhaps if he had not been so secretive about his relationship with Monique, then Matt might have been able to trace him to Arabia. But what was the use of thinking such thoughts? It was too late for regrets. He had still not told him the true reason for his abduction or about what took him to France, knowing that if he had done so, then his twin would have been furious with him and done all in his power to prevent him.

Jack moved over to the table, which had been cleared of papers and now displayed several dishes of food. The slices of beef, cheese and bread, cakes and tartlets made his mouth water. Anna followed him and, as they helped themselves, she murmured, ‘Owain says that you were sold into slavery, Jack. I find it difficult to believe that such a thing could happen.’

He frowned as he fixed her with a stare. ‘You believe I speak falsely?’

She flushed. ‘No, but it seems so incredible that it could happen in a so-called civilised country.’

‘There are thousands taken into slavery in this world, Anna,’ he rasped. ‘Not only in France but Spain, Africa and Arabia. You find it unbelievable because those worlds are beyond your experience. Yet look at what your husband’s nephew planned for you. He would see you burn. Now that I find incredible and there are questions I would like to ask.’ He paused, before adding, ‘But it really is none of my business and you should tell Owain everything. Now, if you will excuse me.’

She felt the colour deepen in her cheeks and came to the conclusion that the sooner Jack left the better. He had played the role of knight errant, yet now he was doubting whether she was as innocent as she had appeared. Perhaps he now believed she was a witch. She thought back to the moment when he had come to her rescue. If he had not done so, then she might not have lived to see this night through and she would always be grateful to him. But she no longer felt hungry and, draining her goblet of wine, slipped out of the parlour.

Jack caught the glimpse of a whisk of black skirts as Anna left the room. Obviously she’d had enough of the small gathering. However caring a family, when one had lived a different life away from them, it was never easy for either party to adjust to the changes. He knew he had offended her and regretted it. He wondered what she would think of him if she knew he had murder in his heart. No doubt she would be shocked and attempt to dissuade him from such a course.

He had sworn Davy to secrecy about his intentions—not that he had told him the absolute truth—but hopefully he could be trusted with what he did know. Jack had no desire to cause his kinfolk further worry, but it was his life and he must do what he believed was just. He knew Matt sensed his distress, but the pain of being treated as of less worth than a beast of burden had gone too deep to talk of it easily, even to his twin. His experience would always set him apart and that made him feel very alone. Perhaps that was why he sympathised so much with Anna—being accused of being a witch made her an outcast, too.

He must stop thinking about her! Sympathy could weaken a man and result in death. During his captivity, he had immersed himself in bitterness and hatred and used any method necessary to ensure his survival. He was not proud that there had been a time when he’d had to act in ways that now made him feel ashamed. Anna would certainly not approve of his behaviour.

Anna had no sooner left the parlour than she encountered one of the servants in the passage outside. She was a pleasant-faced woman with greying brown hair and soft hazel eyes.

‘I was coming to tell you that your bedchamber is ready, Lady Anna,’ she said. ‘There’s hot water if you wish to cleanse yourself from the dust of travel. Your baggage has been taken up. It is a pleasure to see you back here at Rowan.’

‘Thank you, Megan,’ said Anna absently. The maid had worked on her half-brother’s manor as long as she could remember.

‘I’m so sorry your house burned down. Yet perhaps it’s fate that has brought you here.’

Anna was too weary and full of aches and pains to bother asking her what she meant by those last words. ‘Goodnight, Megan. I’ll manage to undress without help.’

‘But there is something I must—’ began Megan.

‘Not now.’ Anna left her behind and made her way upstairs to the bedchamber that had been hers all her growing years.

A branch of candles had been lit and stood on a small table. It was a well-appointed room and its window looked out over the vegetable garden and the paddocks where Owain’s fine brood mares and stud horses grazed. She wondered whether to bother unpacking the few clothes she had managed to save from the fire. Perhaps just her night rail and toiletries for now, she decided. She gazed at the bed and wanted to collapse on it and sleep for hours and hours, but first she must wash. At least her gloves had protected her hands and they were reasonably clean still.

There was a tablet of Kate’s special lavender oil soap on the stand and a thickly woven drying cloth. No doubt it had come from Bruges and had been delivered to this household by a carrier who had worked for Jack.

She undressed, throwing her smoke-impregnated gown into a corner of the room. She stood naked a moment, inspecting her bruised arms and scratched breast. A shadow darkened her eyes and a tear fell on her cheek as she remembered those terrifying moments in her bedchamber. Whose face had been behind that devil’s mask?

Should she do as Jack had said and tell Owain everything that had happened that day? Forewarned was forearmed; if her half-brother was to represent her and challenge Will at the local court, then perhaps he should know that, besides accusing her of adultery, Will had said that she was a murderess and witch, as well. Due to the difference in their ages, Owain had been more of a father to her than a brother. Both he and Kate deserved her honesty, but the accusation against her mother continued to nag at her.

Anna sighed, taking her night rail from a saddlebag. She sniffed the garment and discovered that it, too, stank of smoke. Should she dress again and go and ask Kate might she borrow a nightgown? Perhaps not. Anna was in no mood for a heart to heart with the woman who had been as a mother to her. She felt guilty for feeling the way she did, so instead she thought of Jack.

His refusal to talk about his time spent in captivity spoke to her of great suffering. How would she have coped with being a slave? Of course, wives were to some degree considered chattels by their husbands, but this could not compare with slavery such as Jack had experienced. Giles, who had been almost twice her age, had adored and spoilt her. She missed him still, but time had lessened her grief. He had left her well provided for, and even if she were to remarry she would not lose by it. She was only twenty-three, so still young enough to bear children. The thought caused her a mixture of anguish and hope. Although something had died inside her when she had lost Joshua, she knew that she still had more love to give. But not now—not yet.

She put on her night rail and then unpinned her redgold hair so that it rippled down her back. As she combed it, her mind drifted over all that had happened that day. Would she ever be rid of the images of Will’s hissing voice accusing her of adultery and witchcraft, of that devil’s mask, her house aflame, poor Marjorie dead and Jack plucking her from danger? Shewondered what thoughts lay behind those fine steely blue-grey eyes of his. She wished she might help him. After all, he had come to her aid when she was in dire peril.

Anna finished combing her hair and then knelt by her bedside and prayed for mercy, forgiveness, guidance and protection from evil. She was just about to climb into bed when there came a knock. For a moment she thought of pretending she was asleep, but curiosity sent her over to the door.

She pressed her ear against the wood. ‘Who is it?’

There was no answer.

The knock came again.

‘Who is it?’ she repeated.

Again no answer, but she could hear heavy breathing. Her heart began to thud. What should she do? Perhaps it was the children playing games with her? She flung open the door, only to be confronted by an adult male holding the devilish mask up to his face. The light from a nearby wall lantern shone on his flaxen hair. She caught her breath as he lowered the mask and the face behind it looked even more terrifying in the flickering light.

‘Well, so-called sister of mine, have you never wondered why your hair is the colour it is?’ Hal sneered. ‘Your mother, Gwendolyn, had a lover!’

Anna started backwards, feeling sick inside. She could not believe that a person she had known all her life could treat her like this, even though they had never been the best of friends. ‘I don’t believe you,’ she croaked.

‘Believe what you want, but it’s true. Owain and Kate lied to you. You’ve bad blood in you, Anna.’

‘Why do you torment me so?’ she whispered.

His mouth twisted in an ugly smile. ‘Because you were born in sin. Your father was a Frenchman, the Comte d’Azay, and you’re his daughter.’

Anna felt as if ice suddenly encased her heart. ‘It—it can’t be true,’ she stammered, although there had been a time when she had asked Owain whether they had kin with red-gold hair. He had hinted that her great-grandmother had hair the same colour as hers and she had believed him.

‘That’s silenced you, hasn’t it?’ sneered Hal, his eyes alighting on the curtain of hair that rippled down over her breasts.

‘Leave me alone,’ she gasped. ‘I would have naught to do with you.’

‘By the devil, you’re lovely.’ He spoke in a hoarse voice and reached out a hand towards her.

She noticed the teethmarks on his wrist and that was proof enough for her that Hal and the man who had attacked her in her bedchamber really were one and the same person. ‘How dare you! Haven’t you hurt and insulted me enough?’ she raged, knocking his hand aside.

‘Insult you? I’m the only one in this family who’s told you the truth.’ Hal sounded quite indignant. ‘The rest have been living a lie for years. You’re no kin to the ap Rowans. Your mother bewitched and killed my father with an enchantment. You’ve inherited her power and cast a spell on me. If you won’t break it, then you must accept the consequences.’ He lunged at her.

Anna backed into her bedchamber and tried to slam the door shut. He was too quick for her and, brushing her hair aside, seized the neck of her night rail with rough hands and tore it. She screamed.

‘Shush, shush,’ he muttered, placing a hand over her mouth. ‘We don’t want anyone coming, do we?’

‘God’s blood! What do you think you’re doing?’ bellowed a familiar voice.

Hal was dragged away from her. Anna sagged against the doorjamb and watched him struggle in Jack’s hold, cursing him and blaming her for being a witch and a Jezebel for the way he had acted. She watched as Jack closed his mouth with a punch to the jaw and sent him crashing into the opposite wall before he slumped to the floor.

Jack licked his bloodied knuckles and glanced at Anna. She fumbled for the torn silk to cover her bare breasts. He could not look away. Such perfect breasts. It seemed an eternity since he had found comfort and pleasure in a woman. Guilt twisted his gut and now he felt angry with Anna for making him desire her. Then he looked into her terrified face.

‘My thanks, Jack,’ she said hoarsely, concealing herself behind the door, the full horror of what might have been suddenly registering with her. ‘I have not spoken of it, but I deem it was Hal who attacked me in my own house before the lightning struck,’ she added.

A groan from the man on the floor drew Jack’s attention and he knelt beside him. A curse escaped Hal. ‘How could you torment Anna in such a way, you cur?’ demanded Jack.

‘She has bad blood in her. Murderer’s—adulterer’s—witch’s blood,’ snarled Hal.

‘You lie!’ cried Anna, wrapping the bed coverlet about her and coming out into the passage.

‘Enough of this,’ growled Jack. ‘Get back inside your bedchamber, Anna. I’ll deal with him.’

She gripped his arm. ‘Get him out of my sight. I don’t want to ever see him again.’ She returned to her bedchamber and closed and bolted the door behind her.

Jack yanked Hal to his feet. ‘Take a word of advice from me, you cur, and stay away from Anna,’ he growled.

Hal cursed him. ‘Who are you to give me advice? You know naught of Anna or what went on here years ago.’

‘Whatever happened, it is no excuse for your behaviour towards a lady, so just do what I say,’ warned Jack, ‘or I will kill you.’

‘You just want her for yourself,’ accused Hal.

Jack didn’t demean himself by denying Hal’s words, but his eyes were cold chips of ice. ‘Take my advice and leave. Owain is not going to be pleased with you when he hears of this.’

Hal glared at him. ‘You’ll regret your interference in my affairs.’

Jack laughed. ‘You are a fool if you would threaten me.’ He drew his sword and dug its point in Hal’s large stomach. ‘Now move!’ He spun him round and now the point was in his back.

Still cursing him, Hal did as he was told, stumbling along the passage. Jack brought up the rear, determined to see him off Rowan Manor, relieved to be leaving in the morning. Twice he had embroiled himself in Anna’s affairs. There must not be a third time.

Chapter Three

Anna stepped away from the other side of the door and sank on to the bed. She felt deeply embarrassed that for a second time Jack had rescued her from the attentions of a man who had levelled such terrible accusations at her. Some men might have believed there was an element of truth in them, especially when one of her accusers had known her since her birth. She felt sick with the fear that her mother truly had committed adultery with a French lover and that she, herself, was a bastard child. Had Jack overheard that earlier part of Hal’s accusation? She thought not—surely he would have interfered earlier if he had done so.

Anna closed her eyes tightly, trying to recall the name of the Frenchman. He was a Comte and his name begun with a D…d’Azay! That’s what Hal had called him and she could not deny there had been a ring of truth in his voice. Besides, she did not believe that Hal could have conjured up a French aristocrat for her mother’s lover? If he had wanted to simply blacken her name, surely it would have been more believable to name an English or Welsh man? Anna did not want to believe in this French aristocrat lover, but she did. Which meant Owain and Kate and others had lied to her. It pained her that they had kept the truth from her all these years, but it did not hurt as much as the realisation that they were not kin to her. Their blood did not run in her veins. She was no real member of their family. She was alone. Truly an outcast.

She shivered and climbed into bed and snuggled beneath the covers. Tears trickled down her cheeks. How could she stay here, knowing that she did not belong? She certainly had no intention of returning to Fenwick and was uncertain if she would ever go back there again. Obviously Hal and Will were in cahoots with each other and determined to destroy her. She felt deeply hurt that two men she had trusted could behave so wickedly towards her. Did they really believe the accusations levelled at her? Or had they spoken in such a way purely to undermine her confidence and strength of will to help them get what they wanted from her?

What was she to do? She felt desperately unhappy, worried and confused. How could she make a sensible decision whilst in such a state of mind? Oh, God, why did you have to take Giles and my son from me? Was it because my sins are manifold due to my having been conceived in an adulterous relationship? What is your purpose in punishing me? Howcan I absolve myself from this sin? Or is it my parents’ sin that needs absolving and only I can do it? She desperately wanted to know and was reminded of the psalmist in Holy Scripture who cried to God from the depths of his being to be rescued from the pit of despair.

There came a knock on the door, causing her to start up. Who could it be this time? Jack? Her emotions immediately ran riot. Was there some truth in Hal’s accusation that Jack wanted her for himself? He had not denied it. Perhaps he believed what Hal had said and deemed she would welcome him into her bed?

Her head began to throb.

‘Lady Anna, it’s Megan. I have your sleeping draught here.’

Anna’s relief was overwhelming and her suspicions that Jack might be devious faded. She tumbled out of bed and hurried over to the door and opened it. ‘Do come in.’

The maid viewed her with concern. ‘You looked flushed. I hope you aren’t about to come down with a fever.’

‘No, no,’ said Anna, taking the steaming cup from her and breathing in its fruity, herby fragrance. ‘My mind is in a whirl, that is all. So much has happened today that many thoughts are playing round and round in my head.’

‘You’ve been through a bad time, my lady, but now you’re home, matters will sort themselves out.’

Anna had known Megan all her life. Was it possible she would know if her mother really had had a French lover? She could not blurt out such a question to a servant, but maybe there was a way of finding out without asking a direct question. ‘Master Hal has said such dreadful things to me about my mother since my return that I amat a loss what to do about it.’ Anna climbed back into bed and told the maid to sit down. ‘I fear that certain truths have been kept from me. Sir Hywel, perhaps he was not my—’

‘Ha!’ exclaimed Megan, sitting down on the chest at the foot of the bed. ‘Master Hal couldn’t keep his mouth shut—begging your pardon, my lady, for speaking disrespectful of him.’

‘So it’s true,’ said Anna, her heart sinking.

‘Aye, my lady. Lady Gwendolyn was crazy with love for the French Comte.’

‘She was!’ Anna’s spirits lightened in an amazing way.

‘Aye. Not that he was her first love, but he was her last.’

‘She never loved my—my father, Sir Hywel?’

‘No-oo. He married her when he shouldn’t have. He was almost old enough to be her grandfather.’ Megan lowered her hand and smoothed the coverlet with a steady hand. ‘But then Lady Gwendolyn was a beauty and thought she deserved position and power.’ She lifted her head and smiled at Anna. ‘Now, you drink that potion down. There’s naught like a good night’s sleep to help you see things clearly. Master Owain and Mistress Kate love you dearly.’

‘I deem you’re right, Megan,’ said Anna, her smile false. ‘I am certain that in the morning I will see everything in a different light. Thank you.’

‘God grant you rest and peace of mind, Lady Anna,’ said Megan, getting up.

Anna watched her leave and, placing the cup on the chair by her bedside, went and bolted the door. Then she returned to her bed and drank the sleeping potion. Was her father alive or dead? If alive, was he living in France? Did he have a family? Had they known about her mother? Was he aware that he had a daughter? If so, was it possible he might love her for her mother’s sake? Her eyelids drooped. Placing the empty cup on the chair, she snuggled beneath the covers. Exhausted, she drifted into sleep.

Anna had no idea of how long she had slept before she dreamed that she was in Chester with Giles and Joshua, watching one of the mystery plays. It was the story of Jesus’s temptation in the Wilderness when he confronted Satan. Suddenly the actor playing the role was no longer someone acting out a part, but he was a devil threatening to take her to his fiery kingdom. She broke out in perspiration and started awake with the image of that evil laughing face burning in her mind.

Trembling, Anna rose from her bed and went and splashed cold water on her face. She had to get away from this Palatine of Chester, otherwise she would go mad. There were too many questions that she dared not ask, and she did not want to upset Kate and Owain. She would not be deserting Joshua and Giles because the memory of them lived in her head and her heart. She would carry them with her wherever she went.

Dawn was not far off and she dressed in clothes that still bore traces of the smell of smoke. She allowed herself time to repair her torn night rail before placing it in a saddlebag. Remembering to pick up her lute, she checked the strings had not been damaged from the journey.

She left the bedchamber and tiptoed downstairs, following the fragrant smell of freshly baked bread to the kitchen. There she found Cook and enquired as to whether Master Davy was up and about. He informed her that he and Master Milburn had partaken of breakfast and left a few moments ago. Instantly, she begged of him some fresh bread rolls and spread them with honey. She also filled her leather flask with small ale. Having packed them in one of her saddlebags, she asked Cook to give Owain a message.

‘Tell him not to worry about me, I need some time alone. Most likely I shall go to the convent where I found some peace once before.’ She had decided on this ruse so that Owain and Kate would not worry about her. Somehow she must find a way to get to France.

‘Certainly, my lady,’ he said, scarcely able to conceal his curiosity.

She bid him good day and left.

The sky was streaked with pearly pink-and-cream streamers of cloud. Anna was glad that the day was so fine after yesterday’s thunderstorm and hurried to the stables, hoping Jack and Davy had not yet left. She found them in the stable yard, where Jack was digging out a stone from his horse’s hoof.

‘What are you doing up so early?’ asked Davy, gazing at her in surprise.

‘I have a couple of questions to ask you,’ she said.

‘You’ll have to be quick. We’ll be leaving soon.’

Both men eyed her saddlebags. ‘Where are you going?’ asked Jack.

‘On retreat to a convent where I have stayed before,’ she said, with assumed cheerfulness.

‘Does Owain know you’re leaving?’ enquired Jack.

She thought she detected a note of censure in his voice and stiffened. He looked as if he had not slept well. There were circles beneath his eyes and the scar on his cheek stood out vividly in the cool morning air.

‘I am a widow and past twenty-three summers, Jack Milburn,’ she said firmly. ‘I have had the ordering of my own life since my husband died. I do not have to answer for my actions to any man but the king.’

Jack rubbed his unshaven jaw. ‘That’s as may be, Lady Fenwick, but a woman travelling alone, whatever her standing in the world, is a fool not to consult those who have her well-being at heart.’

She flushed. ‘You would judge me, Jack? I appreciate what you did for me yesterday, but now I must do what is needful for my peace of mind. If you must know, I’ve left a message with Cook for Owain, informing him of my destination.’

He hesitated. ‘What about an escort? Who knows what villains might be lurking ahead?’

‘I doubt the villains would be abroad at this early hour.’ She gave him a haughty look. ‘If you’ll excuse me, I need to saddle up my horse.’ She added in a low voice to Davy, ‘If you can spare me a few moments?’ With a flurry of black skirts, she vanished inside the nearest stable.

Davy rolled his eyes at Jack and followed her.

Jack’s expressionwas grim. He was annoyed because last night Anna had invaded his dreams. Not only had he been plagued by the recurring nightmare of his son being torn from him, but now a terrified Anna being dragged away by a devilish creature had joined that image. He had sensed the devil’s aim was to toss her on to a burning fire and knew he had to prevent it. Yet as he tried to rescue her, something kept dragging him back.

On waking, he had felt drained of all strength, similar in fashion to the aftermath of the fever he had caught in Arabia. He had reasoned with himself that the nightmare was the result of yesterday’s events, but he could not deny the dream had greatly disturbed him, rousing that protective instinct within him again. He wondered what she wanted with her half-brother and waited impatiently for the two to reappear.

Inside the stable, Anna was pleased to find that her broken girth strap had been replaced and she saddled up her horse.

‘So what is it you want from me?’ asked Davy, impatiently.

She gazed at him. ‘I do not want you to mention what I am going to say to Owain or Kate. The Comte d’Azay! What do you know of him?’

‘Who told you about him?’ asked a startled Davy.

‘Hal said that he was my father. Did you ever meet him? What kind of man was he? What did he look like? Where did he come from in France?’

Davy’s expression was dour. ‘You’d be wiser putting the past behind you, Anna.’

Her eyes flashed with anger. ‘That’s a bit difficult when I’ve only just discovered this part of the past that relates to me. I cannot possibly forget that my father is not the man I believed him to be. I need to know more about this Comte. I cannot ask Owain or Kate. I cannot bear to distress them further.’

Davy hesitated. ‘The Comte was a handsome man with foxy red hair. It was the colour of his hair that convinced me that Gwendolyn had played Father false. Also, it was obvious that she was besotted with him.’

‘Did you believe she was also a witch?’

‘No. Hal did. He was for ever saying that Gwendolyn had bewitched Father into marrying her. Your mother was a lovely creature with hair as black as a raven’s wing. She was reared in our household and treated like the daughter of the house. Father was wrong to marry her and deserved what happened to him. But there was naught supernatural about it.’

Anna felt a lot better. ‘Do you know how she met the Comte?’

‘Through her uncle, but he’s dead. Owain knew both men better than any of us. He met them at Domfront in Normandy, where our eldest brother, Martin, is buried. Does that satisfy your thirst for knowledge?’

She nodded. ‘My thanks to you.’

Davy’s face softened. ‘You were brought up an ap Rowan and that’s what you are at heart, Anna.’ He left her standing by her horse.

Anna’s emotions were in turmoil. What Megan and Davy had told her about her parents was enlightening and it was also a relief. They had given her an impression of them that was altogether different to that of Hal’s. She now believed that the Comte and Gwendolyn had fallen in love and herself conceived in a moment of passion. She definitely had to find out if her father was still alive. He might have left for France before her birth. Something to do with the unrest between their countries, perhaps. But how was she to get to France? Her first step was out of this stable. She attached her belongings to her horse and led the beast outside.

Davy and Jack were still in the yard. At the sound of the clatter of her horse’s hooves, both men lifted their heads and stared at her. Then Jack came striding across the yard towards her. ‘I’ll help you mount,’ he said tersely.

She glanced at the mounting block. ‘It really isn’t necessary. I can manage on my own.’

‘I’m sure you can. But allow me to help you this one last time.’

His words startled her. ‘Will we not meet again, Jack? No doubt you will be glad to see the back of me. I cannot deny that our encounters must have proved troublesome to you.’

‘Have I complained? Who knows, Anna, what lies in the future? Travel is a risky business.’

‘Yet you survived.’

‘Aye. But it was not easy.’ He bent and formed a cradle with his hands. For a moment she did not move, but gazed down at his bare head. She was aware of an urge to stretch out her hand and smooth his untidy dark hair. Her thoughts even travelled as far as imagining being held close to him. She sensed that if he made love to her, then her fear and loneliness might vanish. How ridiculous a thought was that in the light of what they knew of each other? He glanced up at her and their eyes met. She felt a dart of sensation in her breast and a rippling in her stomach.

‘What are you waiting for? I’m in a hurry,’ he rasped.

‘You offered your assistance, I did not ask for it,’ snapped Anna, placing a hand on his shoulder. She was instantly aware of the strength in the muscles there and placed her foot in his laced hands. She felt his fingers brush her ankle above the short boot and experienced a frisson of pleasure. Then her breath caught in her throat as he raised her into the air as if she weighed no more than a dandelion clock. The moment was spoilt when he threw her into the saddle as if he could not wait to be rid of her.

She scrabbled for the reins with one hand, whilst attempting to arrange her skirts decorously with the other. She was about to thank him for his assistance, but he had turned away and was crossing the yard to his own horse. She watched him haul himself into the saddle and gather up the reins. She turned her head away for a thought had suddenly occurred to her—one so shocking that she questioned her sanity.

Jack caught Davy’s gaze on him. ‘What?’ he demanded.

The older man smiled faintly. ‘Did I speak, lad? So, what are we going to do about her? We can hardly allow her to ride off alone.’

Jack’s face was grim. ‘You heard her. She has the ordering of her own life and answers to no man but the king. I deem she would not even take orders from Edward, the mood she is in. Although he is in France, so we cannot put that to the test. She’s your sister. You deal with her.’

Davy half-opened his mouth and then clamped it shut. He watched Anna ride out of the yard and thought that, on horseback, she truly was an ap Rowan.

Jack’s eyes smouldered as he gazed after her. He wondered what had been on her mind when he had caught her watching him a moment ago. If he were superstitious like Hal, he might have believed she was attempting to enslave him with the power of her lovely eyes. He shook his head as if to rid himself of the thought, telling himself that he must not blame Anna for the lust she roused in him. She had an excellent seat. Remembering her fall from her horse yesterday, he was filled with admiration. Surely she must be suffering some after-effects after all that had happened to her. Yet she made no complaint. If only life were different. But he must put her out of his mind.

Anna was seized by doubt. She must be mad to be considering travelling to France. It was true what Jack had said. Travel was a risky business. Shewondered who had been responsible for selling Jack into slavery. Could it have been a business rival? Giles had told her that there was a lot of money to be made from trade. The best woollen cloth, parchments, tapestries, gold and silver and other luxury goods could fetch a goodly price. Yet how could an English man such as Jack outdo the merchants on the Continent, whose transport costs would slice his profits? It didn’t make sense for a foreign rival to get rid of him. Unless it had been a fellow countryman?

She nibbled on her lip. What was the point of puzzling over the matter? She would be eternally grateful to Jack for coming to her assistance, but she could expect no more help from him. Soon, their ways would part. Once they reached the highway, she would go in the direction of Chester on the pretence that she intended seeking sanctuary at the convent and he and Davy would turn in the other direction towards the Wirral and Birkenhead Priory, where one could take a ferry across the Mersey to Liverpool. Even at this early hour, the road would be busy with monks and clerics bound for St Werburgh’s Abbey, as well as peasants, merchants and others going to market, so there was no need for them to worry about her.

If it had not been for their earlier exchange in the yard, Anna might have been tempted to ask Jack outright to give her passage on his ship to France, but she doubted he would agree. If only she could smuggle herself aboard and not be discovered until they were out at sea. But that plan was out of the question if his ship was anchored in the Dee estuary.

She came to the end of the lane and there she waited for the two men to draw alongside her. ‘So, Anna, you’re still of a mind to go to the convent?’ asked Davy. ‘You could come and stay with Joan and me for a few days and see the new baby.’

She was warmed by his thoughtfulness. ‘It’s kind of you to ask me, Davy. Perhaps another time. At the moment I would not make cheerful company and that might upset the children. Besides, you have Beth with you.’

‘Give it a sennight then and we’ll look to see you.’ He leaned forward and kissed her cheek.

‘Give Joan and the children my warmest regards,’ she said softly.

He nodded and drew his horse away from hers.

Anna was aware of Jack’s frowning eyes upon her. ‘Why so glum, Jack?’

‘Are you sure you’ll be safe travelling without a companion to this convent? I hope you have no plans to take the veil?’ His tone was brusque.

She stiffened. ‘Now there is a thought.’

His frown deepened. ‘You wouldn’t, Anna?’

‘Why not, if it is God’s will for me?’

‘To shut yourself away from the world and never see all those you hold dear? You can have no idea what that is like,’ he rasped.

‘And you do, Jack?’

His smile was grim. ‘Don’t do it, Anna! Return to Rowan. Owain will protect you.’ His horse was growing skittish and chaffing at the bit and he knew he would have to go.

She smiled. ‘I hope you have a safe journey, Jack. By the way, what is the name of your ship?’

‘Hercules.’

‘It’s a fine name for a ship.’ She held out a hand to him. ‘Fare thee well.’

He clasped her hand briefly and then relinquished it and rode after Davy.

Anna remained where she was for several minutes, deliberating which path to take to West Kirby that would not bring her into contact with Jack before it was absolutely necessary. The back lanes would be best as they were less frequented. With luck she might reach there before him, although the success of her plan to get aboard his ship was dependant on the tide. When the tide was out at West Kirby, a great expanse of sand was exposed, so that no ships could sail right up to the water front. At such times one could walk out to the three islands in the estuary. The furthest was two miles away, so one needed plenty of time to reach it. Otherwise, there was the possibility of drowning on the incoming tide or being forced to spend several hours on Hilbre, the largest of the islands, waiting for the tide to retreat again.

She wondered how Jack’s master mariner knew when to come inshore to pick up Jack if the ship was anchored out in the bay. Perhaps they had worked out a signal or maybe Jack intended hiring a boatman to row him out to the vessel from the island. If the tide was out, then she was presented with a severe problem. But, after the events of yesterday, and the dreams she had had, she was curiously reckless. Most likely the feeling would not last and she would descend into that pit of despair again, but for the moment her mind was fixed on going to France. So she rode towards a lane that would eventually bring her to West Kirby and the sea.

Jack gazed out over the expanse of sand between the mainland and the small islands in the Dee estuary where the Hercules was anchored. According to a couple of fishermen mending their nets, it was going to be a few hours before the tide turned. They had given him directions concerning the safest path to walk to the largest island two miles away—a path he had traversed with others on his arrival, but he had appreciated being given fresh directions for the return journey. He had handed over his hired horse to the stables and quaffed a tankard of ale and eaten some bread and cheese at the inn andwas now about to set out. His eyes narrowed against the sun glistening on the sand. He guessed it would take him about an hour to reach Hilbre Island where he would signal to his ship. He could see the silhouettes of people making a similar voyage, so he knew he was not alone. Putting his best foot forward, he headed across the sands.

Anna arrived in West Kirby half an hour or so later. Whilst leaving her horse in the charge of a stable boy, she recognised the stallion that Jack had ridden. ‘How long since this horse’s rider left?’ she asked.

‘An hour or more,’ he replied.

She thanked him and made her way to the waterfront. Her heart sank when she saw that the tide was out. After making a quick search of the small fishing village without seeing any sign of Jack, she gazed across the sands where she could make out figures crossing to and from the largest island. Was Jack amongst them? Her brow creased in thought and she decided to have a word with one of the fishermen mending his nets.

He confirmed her supposition that Jack had set out to walk to Hilbre Island. Filled with dismay, she was now having second thoughts about the risk involved in following him. Yet if she delayed, she could be caught out by the tide. Coming to a decision, she hurried to the stable and discussed with the stable boy the care of her horse. Money changed hands and then she removed her belongings and set out after Jack.

Anna knew from a previous occasion that she must not walk directly to the largest island but go via the two smaller ones, Little Eye and Middle Eye. She was over halfway across the sands when she started to question whether she had been a fool to set out so late, burdened as she was with her possessions. Shielding her eyes from the sun, she thought she could catch a glimpse of its rays sparkling on water towards one end of the island. If that was so, then the tide had turned and was coming in. It was too late to go back, so she must walk faster.

She managed to cover the next quarter of a mile with great speed and now Hilbre Island loomed closer. But already the sea was starting to trickle through grooves in the sand at her feet. Her saddlebags and lute were weighing her down and damp sand clung to the hem of her gown, which was flapping against her legs and hampering her progress. Determinedly, she forced her painful limbs on, keeping her eyes fixed on the hump of the island, where she could now see grass. Water swirled about her ankles, soaking her boots and the bottom inches of her gown. She trudged on, aware the sea was creeping higher. She told herself that she must not panic, for she was almost there.

With aching arms, she scarcely managed to fling her saddlebags on to a rock and was reluctant to throw her lute after them. As she hesitated, a harsh voice said, ‘God’s blood, Anna! What are you doing here?’

Her heart leapt in her breast at the sound of Jack’s voice. He seemed to have appeared out of nowhere and now loomed over her. His expressionwas thunderous as he snatched the lute from her and placed it beside her saddlebags. Before he could drag her up beside him, she placed her hands on the pinkish-brown rock and clawed herself up out of the water as it sucked about her thighs.

‘Your wits, my lady, have gone begging,’ he snapped, seizing her arm and hoisting her into a standing position.

‘I would not deny it,’ gasped Anna, staggering against him. ‘I will understand if you wish to toss me back into the sea.’

‘Don’t tempt me!’ His eyes narrowed. ‘Why are you here? You’re supposed to be on your way to the convent.’

‘I changed my mind. I wish you to take me to France,’ she said breathlessly. ‘I will pay for my passage. I have coin on me.’

He stared at her in horror. ‘You must be mad! I have no intention of taking you anywhere.’

‘I thought you might not and that’s my reason for not asking you earlier.’ Anna managed to avoid his gaze by reaching down and taking a handful of sodden skirt. She attempted to wring it out, but her efforts achieved little. Therewas no doubt in her mind that another of her gowns was ruined and would never be the same again.

He swore and ran a hand through his wind-ruffled hair. ‘If you knew that, then why did you make such a risky journey across the sands?’

She gave him a look of entreaty. ‘I thought that by making such an effort, you might take pity on me. I have to get away, Jack. Somewhere completely different, where no one knows me. Please, do not reject me out of hand?’

Jack determined not to weaken, but knew he would have a struggle with his conscience. ‘I don’t believe in insulting people by showing them pity. Why do you want to go to France? Don’t you know that King Edward’s army has invaded the country to do battle with King Louis?’

‘I knew of it, but it escaped my mind,’ she said in a trembling voice. ‘Anyway, I don’t see why either army should be bothered with me.’

The sudden heat in his gaze seemed to scorch her. ‘Those are the most idiotic words I’ve ever heard a woman say,’ he roared, startling her so much that she lost her footing and would have fallen into the sea if he hadn’t shot out an arm and dragged her back.

‘See what you did?’ she cried, trembling as she clutched his sleeve. ‘There really is no need to shout.’

Jack took a deep breath. ‘There’s naught a soldier loves more than a stray wench sauntering around the countryside.’

She fought down a blush and said in a dignified voice, ‘I am no wench and I have no intention of sauntering. I have my reasons for going to France and they are not for dallying with soldiers.’

‘I know. You want to get away somewhere different where no one knows you. But why France? Why not another place in England? There must be another reason for your wanting to go there.’

‘Of course.’ Anna was convinced that if she told him the truth then he would definitely refuse to take her. ‘Do you think we might move from this rock?’ she asked, needing time to think of an answer that should be acceptable to him.

Jack stepped on to another rock and then grass, avoiding a clump of sea thrift. She lifted her skirts and leapt towards him. He glowered at her as he picked up her saddlebags and began to walk. ‘Your other reason had better be good, or I will leave you on this island to wait until the tide ebbs and you’ll have no choice but to trek back to the mainland.’

Chapter Four

Anna stared after him in dismay and, picking up her lute, hurried after him. ‘But it will be dark by then and I might wander into soft sand and never be seen again.’

‘You should have thought of that before leaving the safety of the mainland,’ he said tersely. ‘What about Owain sorting out your affairs? What about Kate worrying herself to flinders about you?’ he raged, striding along at a heartracing pace, so that she had trouble keeping up with him.

‘They’ll believe I’m staying at the convent.’ Her sodden skirts caked with wet sand clung to her legs most unpleasantly, but she dared not suggest that he slowed down. ‘I left a message with the stable boy in West Kirby to take care of my horse. If I have not returned by the time the money I gave him runs out, then he is to return my horse to Rowan Manor. Only then is he to tell Owain that I have gone to France with you.’

Jack stopped in his tracks and stared at her. ‘You have completely lost your wits. I did notice there was a full moon last night.’

‘I am not a lunatic,’ she said indignantly. ‘Although it would not be surprising if I were half-crazed. Surely it is obvious to you that Will and Hal between them are determined to be rid of me?’

‘I think Hal had something else in mind for you altogether,’ he growled. ‘You should have told all to Owain. Running away to France is no way to deal with this matter.’

‘I have my reasons for not doing so,’ she said firmly. ‘And it did not occur to me that I was running away. Rather I have something completely different in mind. But at least I should be safe from Hal and Will in France.’

‘But there are other dangers that lurk for the unwary traveller abroad and sea travel is not without its risks,’ he said, exasperated. ‘I really should leave you here.’

‘Please, Jack, don’t do that.’ She prayed fervently for words that would convince him to take her with him. Then an idea struck her that she believed was truly inspired. ‘I asked for God’s guidance and I feel he has told me the path I must take,’ she said piously.

He glanced at her with suspicion in his eyes. ‘And what path is that?’

‘A pilgrimage.’

He smiled grimly. ‘You’re not serious.’

She was taken aback. ‘Why not?’

Jack began towalk again and his pace was just as brisk as before. ‘Have you given this pilgrimage much thought?’

Thinking quickly, Anna said smoothly, ‘I have it in mind to follow Kate’s journey through France, taking in the various shrines on the way to Spain.’

‘Your words only serve to convince me that you have scarcely thought about what such a pilgrimage entails,’ said Jack, shaking his head. ‘St James’s feast day was in July, so you’re much too late to get to Santiago de Compostela in time for the celebrations.’

Anna groaned. ‘You’re so right, Jack. I haven’t given it enough thought. I can only say that during my last retreat, one of the lay sisters suggested that a pilgrimage would be good for me. I thought little of it until this recent débâcle with Will and Hal.’

Jack’s dour expression relaxed a little. ‘Now that sounds more probable, but a pilgrimage in our own land would serve your purpose just as well.’

Anna tried to conceal her dismay at this suggestion. ‘But I have to go to France.’ At the look on his face, she added hastily, ‘Although, I suppose, had I thought of it sooner, I could have travelled the pilgrims’ way through England and then crossed to France with other pilgrims.’

‘There’s no reason why you still can’t travel one of the pilgrim ways in England,’ he said reasonably. ‘Of course it goes without saying that it would be wise to take a companion. A lady travelling alone, even with a group of like-minded folk, can still meet with trouble.’

Anna tried to look pleased with the idea and nodded meekly. ‘You’re right, of course, Jack. But I really don’t want to have to go back to the mainland and start again. Perhaps you might suggest where I could start my pilgrimage now I am on this island, seeing that you are so knowledgeable about such ventures?’

He looked at her with an expression that said he didn’t quite trust her when she tried to flatter him. ‘I need to think about that. I cannot stress enough, Anna, that travel is about discomfort and danger. I am not saying that it doesn’t have its excitements and amusing sides, but a journey demands careful planning. You must always be on your guard. It’s not like a stroll to the nearest village.’

Her eyes flashed with annoyance. ‘Why do you speak to me as if I am a fool? You were a witness to the way Will and Hal behaved towards me. You can have no notion of what it is like to be accused of being an adulteress, a murderess and a witch and thre-threatened with b-burning!’ Her bottom lip quivered and she turned her face away from him, blinking back tears.

Immediately, Jack saw himself as an unfeeling monster. Hedidn’t know who he blamed the most, himself or Anna. ‘If you had not told me to keep silent, I would have spoken out about what I had witnessed and all would be well.’

Anna kept her back to him. ‘You’re mistaken. All would not be well. I know most likely it would be safe for me to stay at Rowan, but I am not a child any more. I have been a wife, a mother and now I am a widow and need to stand alone. I’ve made a decision to cut all ties with home and family.’ For the moment, she added inwardly.

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