“As soon as you answer my questions, I’ll answer yours,” he offered, unlacing his fingers and reclining across the bed near her feet, keeping himself propped up on one elbow. “We’ll begin with something easy. Your name.”
“My name?”
“Yes, sweeting, your name. What is it?”
“It’s…” None of your concern, she nearly told him, then thought better of it. She didn’t have a great deal of time to waste bantering with this fool. She had already lost an entire day, a day during which her uncle would have been looking everywhere for her. If he hadn’t yet come this direction, he soon would, and Rosaleen had to make certain she was on her way to London before that happened. “Rosaleen,” she finished.
“Rosaleen,” he repeated approvingly. “Very nice. You’re certainly as pretty as any rose I’ve ever seen. What’s the rest of it?”
Rosaleen bit her lip, wondering how much information she could safely part with. This man had saved her from an unpleasant situation and had clearly made certain that she’d been taken care of while she’d lain sleeping, but how far would his chivalry extend once he knew she was the heiress to one of the most powerful and richest titles in England? If he were to discover the truth, might he not try to force her back to her uncle with the hope of a reward?
“Just Rosaleen,” she whispered.
“Just Rosaleen?” His eyebrows rose mockingly. “I find that hard to believe, sweeting. Even the lowliest of serfs has more of a name than that. Come, tell me the rest of it. I’ll do you no harm.”
Rosaleen shook her head. “I cannot tell you,” she said, “and I would rather not lie. I do not know you or anything about you.”
She expected him to press her, but instead a look of understanding passed his features, and he smiled. “I’d rather you not lie to me, either, sweet. Honesty is a virtue I prize more highly than others.” He nodded his head in tribute. “Rosaleen will suffice. Now, lovely Rosaleen, where have you come from, and who beat you, and why did he do it?”
Resigned to the fact that he’d not be satisfied until he had his questions answered, Rosaleen replied, factually, “I come from a small village north of here. I was beaten by my uncle for refusing to marry the man he had chosen for me. And before you bother to ask, I am on my way to London. Now, may I please be allowed to dress?”
“In a moment,” Hugh said thoughtfully, settling his long body more comfortably on the bed, oblivious to the fact that Rosaleen drew herself into an even tighter ball.
He was quiet for a time, considering her words.
She had been beaten by her uncle for refusing to marry the man who’d been chosen for her. It was a common enough offense, and by law her guardian had every right to do exactly as he had, but that didn’t matter to Hugh. When he had carried her up to his room two nights before, he had been sickened to discover the condition she was in. The wounds on her back had opened and bled through her clothes, soaking them so thoroughly that he’d had to cut them off and throw them away.
The memory made Hugh frown. The bastard who’d beaten her was an animal, and hunting down such animals was one of Hugh’s very favorite sports. But she clearly wasn’t going to be forthcoming with enough information to lead him on that hunt, a fact that only made Hugh that much more curious.
She wasn’t a whore, of that he was certain, but if she was a lady, possessed of any kind of gentle birth, she couldn’t be anything grander than the daughter of some vaguely landed lord. The plain clothing she’d worn had given testament to that, and she’d already admitted as much, having said that she came from a small village.
He could almost envision what had happened. Her destitute uncle, desperate to better his standing, had decided to use his beautiful niece to his advantage by marrying her off to someone wealthier and better landed. Rosaleen had balked, her guardian had promptly tried to beat her into submission, and she had escaped and ended up at this inn. And with him.
“On your way to London, you say? What do you imagine awaits you there? You don’t think to petition the king for aid, I hope.” Hugh chuckled at her surprised expression. “The king would never grant you an audience, sweet, despite your admirable charms, and he would certainly never take your part over your uncle’s. Or did you think to find some other kind of refuge there?”
Rosaleen understood very well what he meant, and the suggestion that she would seek any man’s protection in return for her favors angered her.
“I have relatives in London,” she said, speaking the truth. Through her father, who had been the head of his family as well as the Earl of Siere, she had innumerable and very important relatives at court. The thought of not being received by the king, or at least by one of his regents, was laughable, though she wasn’t about to tell this strange man that.
Her answer brought him a look of relief. “Relatives,” he murmured. “Good. Much better than the other roads left you. Though with your beauty you’d no doubt end up in court, anyway.” As a leman, he left unsaid.
“I’m so glad you approve,” she replied dryly. “Now if you don’t mind, Sir…Sir…what is your name?”
Hugh rose from the bed with fluid grace. “It’s Hugh. Hugh Caldwell.” He lifted a pile of clothes off a chair and returned to place them on the bed. “At your service, my lady,” he added mockingly, with a slight bow.
Rosaleen gazed up at his towering, muscular figure. “I perceive that I owe you a debt of thanks, Sir Hugh, and I-”
“Not Sir Hugh,” he stated tersely.
She looked at him with incomprehension. “But, you are a knight, are you not?”
“God forbid!” he said with feeling. “I am nothing more than what you see. Just Hugh Caldwell.” He strode to the open window and gazed out of it. “And you may dress now, if it pleases you.”
Rosaleen glanced at the clothes he’d left beside her.
“But these—”
“Aren’t your clothes,” he finished, still gazing out the window. “I know that. Your clothes were soaked with blood, thanks to your guardian’s treatment of you and to your own foolishness in venturing out in your condition. They were ruined, and I had to throw them away. Those belonged to the innkeeper’s daughter. I bought them.” He glanced at her and shrugged. “They’ll be a little large on you, but they’ll do.” He turned his gaze skyward again. “There’s a girdle to secure them with.”
Silence reigned in the room for a full minute, until Rosaleen finally cleared her throat to gain his attention. He spared her another short glance from where he looked out the window.
“What?”
“I wish to dress,” she said as lightly as she could, hoping he would understand.
“And so you may.”
“Alone,” she clarified. “Or with the help of the maid, if you don’t mind.”
He smiled. “I don’t mind at all, sweeting, save there is no maid and I’ll not leave this room. You have about three minutes to get yourself dressed without me watching, so I advise you use them well.”
“But…at least send up the woman who helped me to undress in the first place!”
This time he actually laughed. “I’m the one who undressed you, sweet. If you desire my assistance, I’ll be more than glad to help. If you don’t, you’d best do as I advised earlier.”
Being possessed of an amazingly quick mind, Rosaleen grabbed the clothes and began to dress in a hurry. She wasn’t entirely successful, for she was not used to being dressed without help, and her back