and bedraggled into the boat. As well as cleaner, she was if anything a little plumper, as well she might be, for the food Ma provided for the girls was far more rich and plentiful than the diet of coarse bread, beans and herbs Elena was used to. The fear and misery which had been etched into her face the night he had rescued her had faded so that now once again she looked much younger than her sixteen years.
Her red hair, instead of hanging in braids, was rolled and pinned at the nape of her neck, though like the other girls in the stew, she wore no net or veil to cover it. Her dress was different too. Gone was the plain, drab homespun kirtle; instead she wore a faded but finely woven green kirtle falling to mid-calf and revealing the white hem of the linen smock beneath. The low, V-shaped neckline was tightly fastened with a cheap pewter pin. Where had she got that from? Not from Ma, that was certain. If Ma Margot had her way, that pin would be unfastened and the swelling of her breasts tantalizingly displayed, like fruit on a monger's stall.
Who had Elena been expecting to find waiting for her in the chamber? Who had that look of delight been for? His question was answered the moment she began speaking.
'Have you seen Athan? Is he well? Does he know where I am? Did he try to find me, when he learned I'd escaped?' She babbled like an excited child, not waiting for any answers. 'It was only Joan who thought I'd hurt my bairn. I know deep down Athan didn't; he was just too frightened to say so in front of her. He refused to speak against me at the trial, which proves he knew I was telling the truth. He knows I've never lied to him.'
Her face was bright and eager once more as she spoke Athan's name. Raffe could see the hope in her eyes and something more, something that made his guts knot hard inside him. There is no mistaking when a woman is in love. Raffe had seen it in others before, though never with himself as the object of that soft, longing look. Elena was still in love with that oaf Athan even now, even after the spineless numbskull had let his mother denounce her to that bastard Osborn. Even that betrayal had not brought Elena to her senses.
For a moment Raffe came close to breaking his resolve and telling Elena the truth — Your precious Athan is dead, hanged in place of you. In his head, Raffe watched that eager little face crumple, the tears well in her eyes, imagined her throwing herself into his arms, sobbing and clinging to him for comfort. But as he looked again at her face, he knew not even the knowledge of Athan's death would cleanse away her love for the boy. It would only bring despair and guilt, and Raffe had borne too much guilt in his own life to let her suffer that.
He stood up, turning away from her, and stared out of the open door into the sun-washed garden. 'I have come to tell you that you must start to earn your keep here. Ma Margot is a charitable woman, but she can't afford to keep you here unless you work.'
'But I thought you were coming to take me away from here?' He could hear the bewilderment in her voice.
Raffe slammed the door shut and rounded on her in exasperation. 'And where exactly did you imagine I was going to take you? You are a runaway villein and a convicted murderer. Yes, I know you protest your innocence, but in the eyes of the law you are a condemned woman. Unless you're going to tell me you've found this cunning woman and she can produce your child to clear your name?'
Elena hung her head miserably.
'I thought not,' Raffe said. 'Osborn has put a bounty on you. Declared you a fugitive from justice, a wolf's head. Any man in England has the right to kill you on the spot and claim the reward for your body. And believe me, there's not a man out there who wouldn't hesitate to do it for the size of purse Osborn is offering. Who do you think is going to take you in and hide you?'
'I thought... a nunnery,' Elena murmured weakly.
'Have you forgotten the whole of England lies under Interdict? Where would