“I’ll not be ordered about like a servant, Hugh Caldwell! And I’ll not be tossed about like a sack of grain!”
Ignoring her, he took hold of the little mare and led her toward a stall. “Go wait in the gardens for me,” he repeated. “They’re just across the courtyard and through the half gate. You’ll find them easily enough.”
Rosaleen stood her ground, glaring at him. Hugh turned, saw her there and raised his eyebrows.
“Have you gone deaf, Rosaleen? I told you to go and wait for me in the gardens.”
“I heard you!”
“Then get out of my sight, woman, and do as I say. Go on, now.” He turned his attention back to the horses.
Rosaleen huffed loudly, then stormed out of the stables with as much dignity as she possessed. Ignoring the stares of the monks in the courtyard, she strode across it to the half gate, flung it open and slammed it behind her after she walked into the gardens.
“If he thinks that I came to the gardens because he bade me do so,” she announced aloud, “then he’s an even greater idiot than I first supposed!”
Making her way down one of several paths to a bench, she angrily plopped down upon it.
“I don’t care if he is the handsomest man I’ve ever seen,” she muttered. “He’s rude and ill-mannered, and he probably thinks he’s one of God’s blessings to women!”
A cool breeze brushed her face, but Rosaleen’s fury wasn’t tempered by it.
“He’ll be sorry when he discovers who I am.” An angry, feline smile lit her face. “And I only hope I’m there to see it! By my troth, I’ll make him grovel if it’s the last thing I do. When he realizes who it is he’s insulted, he’ll be on his knees, begging my forgiveness!”
So caught up was she in her vengeful fantasies that she didn’t hear the garden gate open again, or the sound of the careful footsteps that approached her.
“Wretched beast! Brother of a pig farmer! Thinking he can treat me, the daughter of an earl, without the least bit of common decency, as though I were naught but the lowliest whore! But he’ll come to rue his behavior, I vow. He’ll…”
“Careful, daughter, lest you say words you’ll one day regret.”
Hugh! Rosaleen thought, paralyzing with mortification. He had finished with the horses more quickly than she had imagined he would. Embarrassed beyond words to have been discovered talking to herself, Rosaleen flushed and slowly raised her eyes to look at him.
What she saw stole the breath from her.
“Hugh Caldwell!” she shrieked, shooting up off the bench.
He shook his head with confusion. “My lady?”
“How could you! Oh, how could you!” Rosaleen’s hands flew up to press against her hot cheeks. “Merciful God in heaven! Are you insane?”
For one horrible moment Rosaleen thought she would be sick, so great was her shock. She was only grateful that she didn’t faint.
He took a step toward her, holding out one hand.
“My good lady, whatever is the matter?” His voice was filled with concern. “Are you ill?”
She backed away from him in horror, as though he were diseased.
“Don’t touch me, you…you infidel! You godless pervert! Stay away from me!”
He stopped and held his hands palm up. “Of course I’ll not touch you, my dear,” he said very soothingly. “You mustn’t be afraid. I only wish to help you. All of us here—” he motioned back toward the courtyard “—only want to help you, good daughter.”
She truly thought she would swoon. “Sick. Dear God, you are sick! Oh, Hugh, how can this be? What can I do to help you?”
His expression changed slightly, and he raised his eyebrows in the manner that was now so familiar to her.
“What did you call me?”
“And your hair!” she wailed. “Your beautiful hair! How could you cut it so dreadfully? Oh, Hugh!”
He frowned deeply. “I think perhaps you’ve made a mistake.”
A sudden realization struck Rosaleen, and she stared at him anew, dumbfounded. “But it isn’t possible! I left you in the stables only a few moments ago. You couldn’t have cut your hair and changed your clothing so quickly. It’s not possible!” Another idea occurred to her, and she felt sick all over again. “Oh my God, Hugh Caldwell! I’m the one who’s gone mad! This is what’s happened to me after spending time in company such as yours. I’ve lost my mind!”
His gentleness vanished and Rosaleen found herself grabbed up by his strong hands.
“You’ve called me that twice now!” he said angrily, shaking her. “Hugh Caldwell! What do you know of Hugh Caldwell? Tell me!”
Stunned, Rosaleen peered into his face, searching in vain for some difference. There was none, save his hair and clothes. He was Hugh Caldwell, or Hugh Caldwell’s exact reflection.
“If you’re not him,” she squeaked beneath his stern gaze, “then I left him only a few moments ago in the stables.”
He dropped her so fast she actually fell on her posterior, but Rosaleen scrambled up and raced after him as he strode out of the gardens and toward the stables. He flung the stable doors open so violently that they banged off the walls, startling every living creature in the building, including Hugh Caldwell, who quickly looked up from where he crouched, brushing Rosaleen’s little mare.
His gaze locked with that of the man who stood in the doorway, and the brush fell out of his hand. He took one hesitant step, then two, toward Rosaleen and the man, and a tentative smile grew on his lips.
“Hugo,” he said very softly. He took two more steps and held out his arms.
“You,” the monk whispered, and with an animal sound launched himself at his brother. Hugh never even knew what hit him, Hugo’s attack was so violent and sudden. A blow to his left cheek sent him sprawling into a nearby stall, and as soon as he landed Hugo leapt upon him, his fists pummeling him again and again.
Rosaleen was thoroughly stunned. She had never seen such a sight or imagined anything like it. A monk, of all people, brawling like a common knave! She didn’t know what she should do, or what the precedent was for handling the situation. If it had been Hugh and some other common man, she would have dumped a bucketful of the horses’ water on them, but she didn’t know if throwing water on a monk was allowed by the Church, and she had too much consideration for her soul to endanger it by committing a sin in ignorance. Unable to think of anything more helpful, she simply ran around the fighting men, begging them to stop.
“No, no, Hugh!” she cried when he slugged the priest in the stomach, doubling him over before hitting him again to send him flying into a pile of hay. “He’s a monk! A monk, Hugh! You mustn’t hit him!”
“I know damned well what he is!” Hugh roared. “Stay out of the way, Rosaleen!”
He barely got the words out before Hugo slammed into him, sending the both of them sliding across the stable floor. This time Hugo ended up on top and quickly straddled his struggling brother, pinning him down.
“You rotten bastard!” he shouted. “I’ve been waiting ten years to do this to you, and I’ll not be denied my pleasure!”
“Oh, oh, oh!” Rosaleen wailed. “Father, your language!”
“Be quiet!” both brothers shouted at her.
“Well!” Rosaleen stamped her foot.
“Do