Page 75 of Exile's Return

Outrage surged through Daniel.

‘Why is my mistress under guard?’ he whispered to Sarah.

She shook her head. ‘I don’t think the Turners want her going anywhere that doesn’t suit ‘em,’ she replied.

‘Who are these Turners?’

‘He’s captain of the Colonel’s Lifeguard and she’s his sister. The Colonel brought her in to take charge of the poor wee mites. If you ask me,’ Sarah lowered her voice, ‘she’s sweet on the Colonel. I’ll leave you here, Lucas.’

A wave of revulsion rode over Daniel at the thought of Leah Turner and Tobias Ashby together.

‘Who’s this?’ The soldier lurched off his stool to bar Daniel’s way. He stood nearly half a head taller than Daniel, with shoulders that filled the breadth of the narrow space.

Daniel looked up into the man’s face. ‘I’m the lady’s man. Who are you?’

He could almost see the information being processed behind the man’s dull eyes.All brawn, he thought. He knew the sort.

‘Trooper Brown,’ the man replied. ‘Cap’n Turner set me to look after ‘er.’

‘Look after her? Then you’re welcome to clean her boots,’ Daniel replied.

Brown grinned, revealing a mouth of yellowed, rotting stumps. ‘You’re welcome to her boots. She’s a nice lady. Came out to chat to me, she did, asked me if I’d wife and bairns.’ He shook his head. ‘Twenty years in t’army, I told her. Ain’t no time for hearth and home.’

‘Indeed,’ Daniel replied. ‘Then you better let me in.’

‘Door ain’t locked,’ Brown replied and sank back onto his stool.

Daniel knocked and Agnes opened it, standing aside as he entered the room. She closed the door behind them and looked up at him. Her lips parted, and he saw the fear in her eyes. Her surroundings, more prison than bed chamber served only to emphasise her vulnerability. She didn’t deserve this treatment.

It would have been so easy to draw her into his arms, but Daniel made no move. He hadn’t touched her since that night in Seven Ways when she had told him that she had taken him to her bed for one reason only — pity. It didn’t matter how often he revisited their night together in his memory — he was certain that what might have begun with pity ended in something far deeper and more meaningful to both of them. Now the only way he could deal with her was to keep his distance.

‘You sent for me, ma’am,’ he said, conscious of the guard beyond the door.

Her lips twitched into a smile. ‘My boots are filthy.’

He took a step toward her and lowering his voice said, ‘Do you think I’m your servant to order about?’

She smiled. ‘We have to make it convincing, isn’t that what Jonathan said?’

‘Jonathan Thornton did not know what a demanding wench you are. Now, where are these boots?’

She produced her mud-caked riding boots. ‘And get the mud out of my skirts, too,’ she announced imperiously, thrusting the muddy garment into his arms as well.

‘Very good, ma’am.’ He frowned. ‘How do I get mud out of skirts?’

She cuffed his arm. ‘Wait for the mud to dry and then brush it off. Have you seen Old Peg yet?’

He shook his head. ‘Not yet. I’ve been…’

‘A little distracted?’ Agnes raised an eyebrow. ‘Pretty kitchen maids, I hear.’

He cleared his throat and changed the subject. ‘The girl, Sarah. Is she a relative of this Peg?’

‘Her great-niece.’

‘Can she be trusted?’

Agnes shrugged. ‘Six months ago I would have said: “with my life”. Now, I don’t think we can afford to trust anyone. She is fortunate to still have her place and she knows it.’