Page 29 of An Outlaw’s Desire

“Who are you?”

He curled his hands into fists.

“I asked before, but you would not tell me. I want your name.”

Her voice had wavered. Did she feel any of the tangled emotions he was experiencing? Hope flickered within him, because if that were so, if she was Blythe—

A knock sounded on the chamber door.

The woman glanced over her shoulder.

“Milady,” a female called from the corridor.

“That will be the infusion I asked for. I must answer the door.”

Pitt didn’t move. Sweat beaded on his forehead. “You will betray me,” he rasped.

“’Tis what I should do.”

Ah, but she hadn’t said she would. A crucial distinction.

“At least wait until we’ve had a proper conversation.”

Her fingers shifted, loosening their grip on her chemise. She stepped backward, toward the door.

Pitt’s knuckles turned white. He couldn’t afford to be discovered, arrested, and imprisoned in the castle’s dungeon. If that happened, what might Sherborne do to Fenton? Fear for his boy hummed in his veins. “Please,” Pitt murmured.

Another knock.

“One moment,” the lady called to the person on the other side of the door. She snatched up her robe from the table and, as though donning a kind of armor for battle, put it on.

“I will explain,” Pitt said in hushed tones. “Please. Give me the chance.”

Her brow creased with a frown. He half expected her to refuse, but she gestured to the bed, indicating he should hide underneath. He scrambled to the floorboards, and the door creaked open.

Chapter Seven

Hoping she didn’t look flustered, Blythe accepted the wooden tray holding a mug and a covered earthenware jug wrapped with cloth. The scents of chamomile and lavender wafted.

“Cook ’oped the cloth would keep yer infusion warm,” the young woman said.

“’Twas very kind. Please thank the cook for me.” Blythe stepped backward, taking care not to bump the tray.

“If ye don’t mind my askin,’ are ye ’avin’ trouble sleepin,’ milady?”

“I am.” Blythe shrugged. “It happens sometimes.” Lately, due to loneliness and the uncertainty of her future, it had been happening more than she cared to admit.

“’Tis not because of….” The poor woman appeared both fascinated and frightened.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, what others ’ave seen at this keep at Chrismastime.”

Blythe fought not to frown. “You need to better explain.”

“If ye do not know what I am talkin’ about, milady, all is well.”

The young woman curtsied and hurried away.