The Master of Winterbourne

‘Your quarrel is with the King, not with me. You knew the battle was over, there was nothing you could do. So why leave in such haste for London? And I felt you were angry with me when you left. Why?’ she asked softly. ‘In the hayfield you were… not angry with me.’ And you called me love, she thought, but dared not voice it aloud.

‘I blamed all supporters of the King, and you were there. And I was frightened for you, for our people, for the

future of Winterbourne.’ He smiled at her ruefully. ‘It was like my mother, the times I was a small boy and came home long after dark. She would be frantic with worry, but when she saw me she would box my ears and shout at me in her relief. I never understood how the one could lead from the other. I do now.’

She held out her arms to him and he came into them, holding her tight against his chest, his mouth in her hair. There was nothing said between them, nothing needed to be voiced aloud.

Chapter Twenty

Eventually Matthew disentangled himself. ‘Much as I would like to stay here in your arms…’

‘You are right.' Henrietta was remorseful. ‘You must be tired and hungry. You need to bathe and shave. Has your man seen to that? I am sure Aunt Susan will have ordered food for you…’

‘Henrietta.’ He broke into the flow. ‘I keep trying to tell you, we have a guest.’

‘A guest? Oh.’

‘That is not very hospitable, Wife,’ Matthew teased. ‘And in any case, I was not expecting you to entertain him in your nightgown.’

‘But I wanted… I thought we would be alone.’ Henrietta blushed.

‘Much as I am flattered by your desire to talk to me alone,’ Matthew's teasing tone deepened her blush, ‘you should be in bed resting. I can entertain our guest myself, with your aunt's able assistance. She has already shown him to his chamber.’

‘Who is he?’ Henrietta asked, then shivered as the sun went behind a cloud, casting the garden into shade.

‘Never mind that now, you should be in bed. What can your aunt be thinking of?’ he demanded in uncharacteristic exasperation. Before Henrietta could protest he swept her into his arms, rugs trailing.

As he carried her up the wide staircase Henrietta gave up all semblance of protest, snuggling against the soft leather of his jerkin, breathing in the scent of him. To be held close in the arms of the man she loved, the man she hoped was near to loving her, was overwhelming.

In their chamber he laid her gently on the bed, brushing her hair back from her forehead. ‘Now rest, Henrietta.’

He straightened up, but stopped as she caught at his hand. ‘You'll go again, I know you will.’

‘I am home and here I intend to stay. I shall not leave you again, sweetheart.’ Matthew smiled at her. ‘And if you continue looking at me like that, Wife, I shall be guilty of seriously neglecting our guest.’

‘Neglect him for a few minutes, Matthew.’ She held out her arms.

It was enough. He bent and took her in his arms, his mouth warm and possessive on hers. Henrietta twined her arms around him, holding him even closer, pressing her body against him in a silent incitement to him to stay, shed his clothes, join her in the big bed.

She deepened the kiss, putting all her yearning, all her fears for him into the embrace. Her fingers insinuated themselves into the curling crispness of the hair at his nape and she felt him stiffen and draw back as her fingertips brushed the skin there.

Matthew's eyes were dark pools of desire, and his voice when he spoke husky. ‘My wanton wife, I am saddle-sore and weary, and you are unwell. Rest now, regain your strength, and I will take myself well away from your lures. For now.’

Warm, happy, reassured, Henrietta snuggled down under the goose-feather guilt and drifted off to sleep.

When she woke Letty was moving quietly round the room, drawing the hangings and making up the fire.

‘What time is it?’ She sat up, rubbing her eyes.

‘Nearly suppertime, Mistress.’ Letty plumped up the pillows behind Henrietta's shoulders. ‘What will I bring you? A bowl of broth and some chicken?’

‘No, I shall get up. Fetch me warm water and the grey gown.’ As she was being laced into her petticoats she asked idly, ‘Have you seen our guest, Letty? I quite forgot to ask Sir Matthew his name.’

Surprisingly Letty giggled. ‘Oh, we've all had a look at him, Mistress.’

‘What can you mean, girl?’ Henrietta demanded, bending to tie a garter above her knee.

‘Why, in the kitchen they reckon he's the finest looking gentleman ever to come into these parts. So tall, and blond and well dressed…’