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