“Aye, that you will, Hugh Caldwell,” she answered, following the words with a tsking sound. “You’re a stubborn devil, and that’s as certain as the new moon rising. I think even Henry himself would have trouble standing against such a one as you.”
“If he knows what’s good for him, he’ll not even give it a try,” Hugh replied confidently.
“Hugh Caldwell! ‘Tis your king you speak of!”
“Well, of course it is, Rosaleen. Who did you think I meant?”
“Oh, you are a devil,” she said, pursing her lips in disapproval. “I’ll wager your brother had his hands full when you were a boy.”
Her words sent the oddest sensation tingling down Hugh’s spine, and memory after memory waved in his mind. They were good memories, things he hadn’t let himself think of for a long time. Unable to stop himself, he laughed, and unwittingly gifted her with a smile…a real, true, honest, rare smile, not one invented from the depths of his anger and bitterness.
“That he did, Rosaleen no-name. That he most certainly did.”
“I’ll not take my clothes off just because you tell me to, Hugh Caldwell!”
Rosaleen backed away, looking wildly around for some heavy object to throw, but Hugh kept coming at her, slowly and surely.
“Don’t be a fool, Rosaleen. I’m not going to ravish you. I only want to put some of this salve on your back, and then I’m going to put you to bed.”
“Ha!” Rosaleen cried, bumping into a table as she moved around the small room. “You admit your evil intentions, you…you…lewd fiend!”
Hugh gritted his teeth and felt a headache coming on. He was tempted to throw the ointment the innkeeper’s wife had given him that morn right out the window. If he hadn’t known that Rosaleen was suffering badly after their day’s long ride, he would have done just that, without the least hesitation, but she was suffering and he was going to put the salve on her. The girl was too damned stubborn to know what was good for her.
Drawing in a breath, he tried to speak more calmly. “Be reasonable. Your back pains you, and you’re hungry, and you’re so weary that you’re about to fall on your face. Let me put a little of this on your back to give you ease, then I’ll go downstairs and fetch you something to eat while you get into the bed. How does that sound?”
Wonderful, Rosaleen thought, but that didn’t mean she was going to disrobe in front of the likes of Hugh Caldwell.
“I’ll put the salve on myself,” she countered, “and you may have one of the serving maids bring me something to eat.”
Hugh sighed, wondering if he’d ever met a more stubborn female in his life and realizing at once that he hadn’t. If he’d ever met a woman more exasperating than Rosaleen no-name, he never would have forgotten her.
“I didn’t bundle you into this inn in that heavy cloak for no reason at all, Rosaleen. If any of those men downstairs hear that I’m keeping a beautiful maiden in my room, I’ll end up having to kill half of them just to keep your precious virtue intact. I can’t take the chance of letting anyone see you, not even a maid. You understand that, do you not?”
A chill crept up Rosaleen’s spine. She hadn’t been able to make out much from the depths of the dark cloak Hugh Caldwell had made her wear into the inn, but she’d seen enough to know that the men patronizing the tavern were exactly the same sort who had accosted her two nights before.
“I understand,” she replied meekly.
“Good. Now take off your clothes and let me put this ointment on.”
Despite her weariness, Rosaleen hadn’t lost any of her fight.
“I’ll not, you lecher! You’re only doing this to take advantage of me!”
That was it. Hugh had had enough.
“If I’d wanted to take advantage of you, sweet, I would have done so last night when you were begging me to give you pleasure!”
Rosaleen gasped. “I never…I never did such a thing! You filthy beast!”
“Rosaleen,” he said in a low voice, advancing on her again, “I am tired, and I am hungry, and I want to go below stairs and have a welcome cup of ale, but most of all, my fine lady, I am past weary of being called every base name under God’s sun. Unless you want me to undress you myself you will remove…your…clothes. Now!”
His roar seemed to shake the whole room, and Rosaleen knew that she had pushed him too far. She had only seen such a look of fury on one other man’s face, and the last time she had defied her uncle he had taken a whip and beaten her. It was that memory that defeated her, and she bowed her head. With shaking fingers she began to unlace her surcot.
Damn, he was in a foul mood!
Hugh hefted his third tankard of ale and wondered what devils beset him so that he felt more sharply than ever the need to ease the bitterness that was his constant companion. If someone didn’t give him a good reason to release his fury soon he would have to seek out a fight himself, and that was always a nuisance.
He set the tankard down and rubbed a hand over his weary eyes.
Damn her! Damn her! It was that wretched female’s fault, every bit of it, and he only hoped she was as miserable as he was. God’s teeth, he was beginning to hate women, the fickle, useless shrews. There was only one thing they were good for, and the particular female he was stuck with wasn’t even any good for that.
Damn her…Rosaleen. He was miserable. He didn’t want to think of her, didn’t even want to think her name. He had lost his temper, he’d shouted at her, and the fight had gone out of her as though he’d actually struck her a blow. She’d started removing her clothing with trembling obedience, sickening Hugh with the realization of what he’d done and enraging him anew at the bastard who had abused her so badly. He’d made her stop when she’d gotten to her chemise, and then, feeling as great a bastard as her uncle, he’d carefully put the salve on without exposing her skin to his sight. She’d slid into the bed without a word after that, and when he had later taken her a tray of food, she had still refused to speak to him. He’d come downstairs feeling like nothing better than a great, hulking bully and had every intention of drinking himself into oblivion and then soothing his nerves with a good, vigorous fight.
His sharp eyes roamed the crowded tavern with acute skill, rapidly picking out the potential opponents to be had. Briefly, his eyes rested upon the full-figured serving girl who had earlier made him an offer he almost hadn’t refused. She caught his gaze and winked at him, letting him know that the offer was still open, and Hugh eyed her prospectively. She wasn’t a beauty by any stretch of the imagination, but she had a fine body. Her breasts were lovely, Hugh knew, for she had waylaid him in the shadows of the stairwell and displayed them quite prettily. They were made for a man to enjoy, just as the rest of