match it.'
The terrified boy, trying to bow his head respectfully and at the same time hoist the basket on to his shoulder, only succeeded in tipping the basket over and spilling half the turfs on the ground. He cringed as Raffe lumbered towards him, but the towering man bent down and collected the turfs, then hoisted the basket on to the lad's shoulder before sending him off with a gentle cuff and an amused shake of his head.
Aware of a movement behind him, Raffe turned to see Elena, muffled in a heavy travelling cloak against the cold, picking her way across the slippery cobbles.
'Going far, Elena?' He glanced up at the pale sun that was already touching the tops of the trees. 'It'll be dark soon.'
Her cheeks flushed scarlet in the cold air. There was something about that first look she gave him whenever he called out to her, the innocent upward flash of her blue eyes, the soft mouth half-opening to reply, her arms thrust forward like those of a child waiting to be embraced. He longed to keep that moment frozen for eternity. Then it was gone and the girl was stammering and staring at the ground as she always did, but it did not displease him. It was how a modest young girl should behave with a man old enough to be her father.
'I have to run an errand.'
'For Lady Anne? Surely one of the page boys could . . .'
He stopped, seeing the anxious glance she darted up at the casement of the great chamber. No, Lady Anne had not sent her.
'You're going to see your mother.'
The girl hesitated, then nodded.
Raffe smiled indulgently. For all the comfort the manor could offer them, at heart these village girls would sooner be hack in their squalid little cottages, living squashed together like hens in a basket bound for market. They missed their families and they were always running back to see them whenever they could sneak away.
'Wait there,' he commanded, striding towards the kitchen. He returned carrying a string threaded with dried apricots, fragrant as rose petals. You can't go to see your mother empty- handed.'
For the second time, she lifted her head and met his eyes, murmuring her thanks, but there was more than blushing gratitude in her eyes. What was it? Guilt? Fear?
She lowered her head, but he caught and raised her chin, tilting back her face so that she was forced to look at him. His eyes were hard.
'You swear to me, girl, it is your mother you go to see, you are not running to meet some man?'
'No ... I swear I'm not . . . not a man.'
He held her face for a few moments, then, satisfied, relaxed his grip, his fingers gliding gently over her throat as he let her go.
'Don't stay long. Be sure and be back before dark — that track isn't safe for a young girl alone. Besides, you must return before Lady Anne starts calling for you. It doesn't do to anger her.'
She nodded, and he watched her hurry through the wicket gate in the great door. Maybe he should have offered to go with her, just to see her safely there. He shook his head, reminding himself that she'd been roaming these tracks all her life. She knew how to take care of herself, more's the pity. He'd have given anything in this world to see those blue eyes pleading for his protection. He felt a familiar ache in his throat! He knew it was foolish to think about her in that way, it could only cause him pain, and yet however firmly he was determined to shut her out of his thoughts, he had only to see her for his resolve to vanish like a single drop of water falling into a roaring fire.
Raffe was half-way up the stone staircase leading to the Great Hall when he heard the rumble on the track beyond the walls. It was not the rattle of a trundling ox-cart or an ambling flock of sheep, it was the sound of armed horsemen riding swiftly. That always signified trouble. There came the clatter of iron horseshoes on stone and the whinnying of horses being sharply reined in. Raffe was already bounding back down the steps when a thunderous hammering sounded at the huge wooden door. The manor's hounds all began barking and howling together.
Walter, the gateman, alerted by the sound of the riders, had opened the small grill set into the