The Winter Love Read online

  “We are lucky that the inn is not full tonight. We do not have to share with anyone else. You will sleep on one side and I on the other,” he explained. “I will not touch you.”

  When she hesitated he pulled out his knife from his belt. “Take this. If I move in the night you can kill me.” He spoke wearily and she knew that her earlier guess about his pain had been right.

  “I don’t know how to use it.”

  “At least you do me the honour of taking my offer seriously.” He smiled faintly as he put it back in its scabbard. “Just take your shoes off and get under the blanket. Even if I had designs on your body, I am too tired to do anything about it.”

  Eleanor knew that her eyes widened in fear, but Henry sat down on the side of the bed nearest the door and began to remove his boots. Following his example Eleanor sat on the other side and got into the bed as soon as her shoes hit the floor. She turned her back on Henry, yawned once and fell asleep.

  Chapter Two

  Henry lay awake for some time trying to work out how he came to be in bed with a nun. He had not intended to remove Eleanor from the convent, but it had seemed safer than leaving her there and now that he had removed her, he had to take her somewhere and he had to keep her safe while he took her there. There would be no point taking her back to the convent. He knew what those men had wanted and the prize they sought was valuable enough for one or two of them to wait near the convent for Eleanor’s return. She could not go back until he had made it safe for her and he wasn’t sure yet how he could do that. He did know that he could do nothing now; the sea voyage had not helped his wound to heal and two days of hard riding had shown him only how unfit he was to protect Eleanor. If it had come to a fight today he would have lost. His shoulder had been healing well and he could probably handle a sword if he had to, but he could not be as sure of himself as he would have to be if his life, and Eleanor’s, depended on it. Holding her securely so that she did not fall from Solomon had undone some of that healing and the pain in his shoulder kept him awake, despite his near exhaustion.

  Much as he hated to admit it, running away today had been the wisest choice. He smiled bitterly in the dark. Despite all his good intentions, he was certainly a soldier now. Only a soldier would think that staying and killing those men would have been better than running away and saving all their lives. If he was a soldier, he should at least be able to work out how best to protect the woman who lay beside him. Tomorrow they should reach Edward and he would have some sensible suggestions. Henry was no longer unhappy that seasickness had prevented him leaving a day earlier as he had intended. If he had done so he would have completed his task and left before the other men had arrived at the convent and Eleanor would have been defenceless. Whatever doubts he had had about Philip’s death were gone. He had seen the man he now knew to be Philip’s murderer at the convent. Henry knew he had been right to take Eleanor from the convent; he just didn’t know what he would do with a nun. And she was naive in the ways that only a nun could be who had lived away from the world for a long time. She seemed to have no idea how to behave outside the convent walls and was a danger to them both. Philip had told him that she had gone into the convent as a child, but he had not said how old she was now. Henry estimated that she was sixteen or seventeen and must have been in the convent for eight or nine years. She could have little knowledge of the world beyond the convent walls.

  Despite her fear and distress, for which he felt very guilty, there was a stillness and distance about her that he admired. She was not a flighty girl who flirted with him and there had certainly been enough of those since he had become rich for him to recognise the type. No, she was someone who belonged in a convent. She was made for prayer and meditation, not for roaming the countryside with a soldier newly returned from France.

  Eleanor sighed in her sleep and he eased the blanket up to her neck. Then he got out and closed the curtain on her side, leaving the one next to him open. He wondered, as he had wondered since Philip’s death, how he could tell Eleanor why the men were there and what they wanted. He was sure it would be better to wait until they were somewhere safe. Perhaps he should take her to his parents. They would look after her and she could stay there until it was safe for her to return. He turned in the bed restlessly and then held his breath until he knew that he had not disturbed Eleanor.

  Eleanor looked so much like her brother that it had been hard not to call her by his name. Philip had been a short man and Eleanor’s hair and eyes were the same colour as his and her hair was just as unruly as his. Perhaps it would be easier for him if she had looked more like a woman when she had changed into his clothes. Her short, blonde hair made her look just like a boy, despite her shape. Henry’s clothes hung on her the way that they would on a boy and tied her belt loosely, so her waist was not obvious. His clothes were too large for her, so her breasts were hidden. Now that they were in bed, in the dark, he was very aware that she was a woman, full-grown and alone. He tried to work out whether she was pretty. He thought she might be if her hair grew. He had not known that nuns kept their hair short, although he was grateful that this was the case. A boy with hair to his waist would have attracted attention. He wondered if life in the convent pleased her or whether she wanted to be a wife and a mother. This was none of his affair; his only task was to keep her safe and take her back to her convent. There was no one else to protect her. Her parents had died many years ago and now Philip was dead. That made Eleanor Henry’s responsibility, even though she didn’t know it yet.

  They only had to reach the coast to be safe.

  It was still dark when Eleanor woke up. That wasn’t unusual; the nuns always woke for prayer in the middle of the night. What disturbed her was that it wasn’t Sister Elizabeth’s quiet voice that was doing the waking. It was a man’s voice and he was impatient.

  “It’s time to get up. We have a long way to go today.”

  Henry, her kidnapper. She pulled free of the hand that was shaking her shoulder and swung herself out of bed. Before she knew it she was sprawled on the floor.

  “Are you hurt?” Henry was beside her even as she managed to sit up.

  “Very sore. My legs don’t feel right.” They had provided no support as she had tried to stand.

  Henry looked down at her, “I should have stopped earlier yesterday, but we had to put some distance between us and those men. Let me help you up.”

  Eleanor groaned as she tried to stand, but could not mange it, even clinging on to Henry.

  “It will ease as you start to walk, come on.” He reached out his left hand to her and Eleanor took it.

  He helped her to stand then held her round her waist as he led her around the room. As she started to walk, her inner thighs burned as if they were being held over a fire and pricked by a thousand sharp needles. She stumbled against him, but soon managed to control her legs a bit more. She was aware again of his strength as he held her. He supported her as if she were nothing, but he held her gently, as if he was afraid of her, or afraid that he might break her. This morning she felt fragile enough that she thought it possible that he could.

  “Try it on your own.” Henry’s voice was encouraging, but impatient.

  Henry let her go and Eleanor found she could shuffle across the floor unaided.

  “That’s not very impressive,” he said. “No one’s going to be convinced by a stable boy who’s saddle sore.” He was irritated by her again.

  “Perhaps I can have some other kind of illness,” suggested Eleanor.

  “You can’t be sick at all.” He was exasperated by her lack of understanding. “We have to leave here on Solomon and you need to eat something. I can’t wait on you, you’re the servant.”

  “Then perhaps you should have been my servant!” Eleanor shouted.

  “Nuns don’t have servants,” Henry muttered.

  “I didn’t ask you to take me away.” She was close to tears, but would not let her captor see them. She had known too much humiliation in
the past to show her feelings easily. Her parents had died in the Big Death. Although not much older than her, her brother was already an adult and had inherited their father’s estate and property. Philip had enjoyed his inheritance, but he had not enjoyed being responsible for a young girl. For a while he had suffered her presence, making her aware that he took no pleasure in it. He had made fun of her to his friends and she had learned early how to hide her distress and embarrassment. She had kept this protection about her since he had sent her to the convent for her education and the nuns had found her a strange and distant child, happiest when alone and never seeking out anyone’s company. It had taken a long time for her to accept that the nuns meant her no harm and to behave in a way that showed her trust in them. Now she remembered the lessons she had learned so early and put them into practice so that her abductor could not hurt her.

  Henry took her awkwardly into his arms and began to smooth her back. To her surprise she moved closer to him and took his tunic into her fists. “I’m sorry Eleanor, I didn’t intend to take you away, but it was the safest thing to do. I truly don’t mean you any harm, but I can’t take you back there now.”

  Eleanor sniffed. “I know. Let me go, I’ll walk.”

  Henry released her and Eleanor walked purposefully back to her side of the bed and sat down to put on her shoes. It hurt a great deal, but she managed not to cry out. Then she thought about getting back onto Solomon and choked back a sob. Busying herself with her shoes, she managed to bring herself back under control.

  “Can you carry my bag and my sword?”

  She looked up. Henry was holding the saddle. He looked less comfortable with it this morning than he had last night. He would not be able to carry the sword as well. She picked up both, even though the sword was heavier than she expected. Henry opened the door and went down to the hall before her. Each step was easier than the last, but each one made her catch her breath. She could not suggest that Henry ask the innkeeper for any balm, but perhaps when they were on their way he could be persuaded to purchase some. That must surely help.

  They sat together again as they ate and Henry kept a wary eye on the rest of the travellers. Eleanor knew that today would be just as dangerous as yesterday, but for different reasons. Any one of these travellers could be an outlaw who would waylay them and rob them later. They might even pretend to be going in the same direction so that they could accompany them to a quiet place where they could attack them. She wished Henry looked a bit more able to look after himself, and her. She noticed that he was using his left arm and hand as much as possible, as if he had been wounded in his right arm. He was right-handed; he wore his knife on his left hip and the scabbard for the sword hung on the left side of the saddle. Yesterday he had used his right arm more. He had certainly used it to hold her when he had first put her on Solomon.

  Slowly she looked around the room, trying to work out which of their fellow travellers looked most suspicious.

  “Stop that.” Henry was quiet, but firm. “You look worried and that will attract their attention.”

  In response she fixed her eyes on him.

  “If outlaws and vagabonds were that easy to spot no one would be robbed on the king’s highways,” he said.

  “I am only a servant,” she said. “Servants are allowed to be afraid.”

  She thought he was trying not to grin, but he said, “No servant of mine would be afraid.”

  She laughed at that and he frowned while she controlled herself. When she had calmed down she said, “You look like a peasant on a stolen horse. Everyone in this room has probably already picked us out as the easiest target for thieves and murderers, but the one least likely to yield any reward.”

  “I do not look like a peasant.”

  “You don’t talk like a peasant, but you look like one.”

  “How many peasants are there in the convent?”

  Eleanor opened her mouth, only to shut it again.

  “You have no idea what a peasant looks like. I am a soldier and I look like a soldier.”

  “Then let us hope that the thieves and vagabonds do not make the same mistake that I did.”

  Eleanor returned her attention to her food, angry at Henry for not telling her more. It was a peace offering when she said, “Tell me what to do if we’re attacked.” It was an unpleasant thought, but she had heard many tales in the convent of travellers robbed and even murdered on the roads.

  Henry looked slightly surprised, then recovered himself. “Keep holding onto me. Solomon will do a better job of getting us out of trouble than I will.”

  Eleanor tried to hide her disappointment. He had been joking when he had said his servant would not be afraid. She had expected Henry to explain that he was an experienced soldier and that she had nothing to fear, but he was relying on a horse. She was in even more trouble than she thought.

  The ostler was very short-tempered when they went to fetch Solomon. A bruise darkened the left side of his face and Eleanor was surprised that a man who worked with horses had allowed himself to be kicked by one. He was lucky to be alive. She wondered if he could have received the bruise in another way, but the skin was broken in a way that suggested that he had, indeed, been kicked by a horse.

  “You couldn’t keep away from my horse, could you?” asked Henry with a grin as he led the way into the stable with the saddle.

  “Did he hurt you very much?” asked Eleanor, concerned that the ostler might have a serious injury.

  The ostler growled and made a gesture that Eleanor guessed was meant to be offensive. Henry changed direction and approached the man, who moved quickly away to another part of the stable. Solomon neighed as he heard Eleanor’s voice and it was her turn to grin. She started talking to him as she approached and then began to prepare him for the day. Henry put the saddle on him, then she led him out to the courtyard. Solomon followed her happily and she held his head while Henry mounted. He pulled her up behind him and she had to bite her lip to stop from crying out at the pain. She was shaking as she put her arms around Henry.

  “It hurts, doesn’t it?”

  She nodded, confident that he would feel the movement against his back.

  “I have nothing that will help, but there might be a physician in the next town.”

  “Some balm would help.”

  “Very well. Hold on tight. We have to go fast, so it will hurt even more.”

  “I understand.” She tightened her grip to show that she was ready. It felt as if Solomon were flying, but the pain was quite intense. She tightened her grip on Henry even more, but wondered how long she would be able to bear it. Henry covered one of her hands in his and stroked it lightly. Despite herself she was comforted.

  “How long do we have to ride today?”

  “All day. We’re going to the coast.”

  The coast! Eleanor had never seen the sea before. The largest stretch of water she had ever seen was the convent’s fish pool and she tried to imagine the pool, but many times larger. She was going to see the sea, how wonderful. She almost forgot that he had said that she would have to bear this pain for a whole day. Her mouth was gaping and she commanded it to close, but it would not obey. Then it spread into a wide grin.

  “Is that where you live?” she asked, when she finally had herself under control.

  “No. There’s a ship waiting for us there. We’ll sail along the coast for a day or so and then we’ll be close to my parents’ home. I think I’ll take you there.”

  “You have your own ship?” Eleanor was surprised; he must be much wealthier than he appeared and wealthier than he had tried to persuade her he was.

  “No. My brother is the captain. He trades with Gascony. I came back with him on his last trip, but we’re not quite home yet.”

  “Then you do not intend to take me back to the convent?”

  “Not today. It would be too dangerous.”

  “How do you know that? Were you one of them?”

  “No. It was your good fortune tha
t I arrived at the same time as them.”

  “Was it? Who are you? Why did you take me away? Why didn’t you fight them?”

  Henry laughed. It was a pleasant sound and Eleanor knew that he was genuinely amused. It made her feel better, somehow, as if her situation was not as hopeless as she felt it to be.

  “Let me see. I did not stand and fight because there were too many of them and I was unarmed. If it ever becomes necessary for me to fight, I will, armed or no, but it was better for both of us that I took you away. Which I think answers your second question. I am Henry Attewood, which you already know. You also know that I’m a soldier returning home from the wars in France. I was injured, badly, so there was little point staying. I’ll never have the full use of my sword arm again, so, in one way, you’re right; I am now depending on my land. There won’t be any prize money or ransoms for me in the future.” Eleanor thought he did not sound too unhappy at the prospect of life as an impoverished minor lord. “As to your first question, I believe that if I had not been there they would have killed you or taken you away themselves and I did not feel that they would treat you well if they had done so. Does that answer your questions?”

  “Not quite, but I sense you will not tell me more.”

  “It is not necessary for you to trust me completely, Eleanor, but please accept that I will do you no harm and I will take you back to your convent when it is safe to do so.”

  Eleanor used this information to take her mind off the pain, but found that it was not enough to distract her. It was only when she fainted and almost fell from the horse that Henry stopped. He held onto her arms, which were still wrapped around his waist, until she was conscious again. Then he eased her gently to the ground and followed her quickly, leaving Solomon to stand by himself. They were on the outskirts of a small village, but no one seemed to be interested in them.