LITMIR.BIZ

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door open without knocking. With an expression of surprise, the older woman looked up from where she was tending the fire as Rowena exclaimed, “He is awake.”

      “Praise be.”

      “He told me he is a noble. A knight. He is asking for his clothing. I have nothing to—”

      Hagar stood immediately. “A knight, ye say? Of course ye have nothing for him to wear. We should have thought…” She bit her lip. “Sean is not of a size with him.”

      With a nod the older woman spun about and went to the chest that sat beneath the shuttered window. Quickly she opened it and withdrew garments from inside, laying them neatly on the hard-packed dirt floor, until she stopped, holding up a deep blue tunic. “I had saved this for Sean so that he might wear it when he grew to be a man.” She touched the fabric gently. “It was his father’s best, his marriage garb. Methinks Sean will never be so large, but I did plan to cut it down for him….” She glanced toward Rowena and away. “We will put it to good use this day instead. I also have my Duncan’s hose, and a pair of shoes that have seen better days, but will have to do.”

      In no time at all she and Rowena were headed back down the forest path to the cottage. When they reached it Christian Greatham was standing in the middle of the floor with a frown on his undeniably handsome face, the bedcover wrapped around his lean middle.

      Seeing him like that again, feeling his masculine presence, Rowena was doubly glad that the older woman had returned with her.

      It was Hagar who spoke up. “There ye are, my lad. ’Tis surely good to see ye up and about.”

      He answered “Hagar? If I may call you Hagar?”

      “Aye, that would be me name. And you are welcome to use it.” She held up the clean garments as she moved toward him. “I’ve brought ye these. They may not suit ye so well, bein’ a knight, but I think they will fit those shoulders.”

      Christian Greatham took the clothes with a formal bow. “You have my deepest thanks, gentle lady. I take it from Rowena that I must also thank you for helping to look after me when I was ill.”

      Rowena was unaccountably pleased at his deference to the older woman. She did not know how she had expected a knight to behave, but she had never imagined one would be so gracious to folk her mother had told her would be considered beneath him. Rowena said nothing, continuing to watch his interaction with Hagar.

      The knight said, “Is there somewhere…”

      Hagar motioned toward the bed. “Ye may pull the curtain. Rowena and I will await ye.”

      He bowed and moved off to close himself behind the bed curtain. In spite of the fact that the woolen curtain was heavy and opaque, Rowena turned her back and gathered up the pallet she’d been sleeping on.

      Despite her efforts at distraction, the rustling noises behind the curtain brought forth vivid visions of that long hard body.

      Once her bed was put away she moved to the fire to begin brewing an infusion of herbs that would further aid her guest in regaining his strength. Not that the knight needed any more assistance with that if his physical appearance was any indication.

      But she did not wish to think upon that.

      She continued to occupy herself until she heard Hagar say, “There ye be. Good, they do fit ye.”

      Rowena spun around, looking at him dressed and realizing that clothing did nothing to dampen the sheer masculine energy of this man, this knight named Christian Greatham.

      “Do they not fit him well, Rowena?” the older woman said.

      Rowena could not hold that blue gaze as he turned to her, though she noted that the vivid blue fabric, which hugged those wide shoulders as if made for them, only seemed to make his blue eyes appear all the more intense. She found herself looking down at the cup in her hands with uncharacteristic shyness. “Aye.” She forced herself to face him, to say something. “They were the marriage garments of Hagar’s late husband.”

      Christian turned to the older woman. “Dear lady, may I not attain some other garb less dear? I would not—”

      Hagar hushed him quickly. “Do not worry yersel. My Duncan, he would be happy to see them put to good use, as I am.” Rowena knew she was pleased at his having understood that the clothing was a gift of some consequence.

      As before, he bowed. “I am honored.”

      Again Rowena felt inordinately pleased with this man—though she had no reason to be so, for he was no more than a stranger to her. A stranger whose life she might very well have helped to save, but a stranger nonetheless.

      She told herself she was simply surprised, after the way her mother had led her to believe one of his station would behave.

      Hagar turned to Rowena. “This lad needs something to fill his belly.”

      Rowena held out the cup. “I have brewed a drink that will help you continue to recover your strength. If you would take it I will serve you some of the rabbit stew from last eve.”

      The knight came forward to take it from her hand, saying, “My thanks.”

      Hagar asked, “What were ye doing hereabout, lad? And what happened to ye that ye would be washed up on our uneasy shore?”

      Rowena paused in the act of dishing up the stew and watched as he replied, “As to the latter, I have no notion. I was riding my horse along the path, and it seemed a large wave might have hit us. But I am not certain. As for the former, I am searching for someone.”

      The older woman shrugged. “Rowena told me of that. Ye are far from likely to find her here, sir knight. No strangers ever come to Ashcroft. The last being Rowena and her mother some fourteen years gone.”

      Rowena found herself nearly pinned in place by that blue gaze. “You came here fourteen years ago with your…mother?” When she nodded, he said, “Where is she?”

      She frowned, uncomfortable beneath that close and curious scrutiny. “She has been dead these three years.”

      He raked a hand through his hair. “Dead. Can you…do you know where you lived before coming here?”

      “England. But I…” She frowned, unable to meet his gaze as she suddenly realized that she did not wish to tell this man that she knew nothing of herself, her parentage. “I—I do not wish to speak of it.” She could hear the note of shame in her voice.

      He took a step toward her. “But I would know—”

      Looking to Hagar with desperate eyes, Rowena said, “Forgive me. I…must leave you in Hagar’s gentle hands now. There are some things I need from the forest.”

      She did not remain to see the sympathy or understanding that came into the elder woman’s gaze. Hagar would understand her distress, for Hagar and Sean were the only ones she had ever told of her ignoble parentage. Rowena grabbed up her cloak and left the cottage.

      Chapter Three

      The next afternoon Christian was still teeming with frustration as he waited for Rowena to return from another seemingly imperative errand in the forest. He felt a renewed wave of frustration each time he thought of what had happened when he attempted to question her about her life before coming to Ashcroft. He groaned, wiping a hand across his brow as he lay on the bed in the tidy little cottage.

      His deep desire to return home could not be fulfilled until he had done what he’d come here to do. He must find the patience that had been so much a part of his nature all his life, but seemed to have deserted him of late.

      He recalled the sad expression on Hagar’s face as Rowena had left them the previous afternoon. At the time, he had been so filled with enthusiasm and hope that she, against all probabilities, might be Rosalind—even though the name appeared to bring no hint of recognition whatsoever. The fact had continued to

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