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danger.
    At last the fading light forced their desultory card games to an end. She rose from her chair
    He gallantly returned the bed upon which he’d sat to the original position against the wall, then stood there looking down at her.
    She could read his feelings in his eyes then. The attraction she felt was mutual. But what madness, to yield to a passion. Passions were so fleeting, so undependable. She turned aside to pick up the blanket with an inward struggle, looking about to see how Sir Edward would manage for the night. Then she sat down and prepared to make the best of the circumstances and get some needed sleep.
    Her portmanteau, with its secret, was stowed at the end of her bed. He oddly enough had displayed no curiosity over it, and she decided not to draw attention to it in any way.
    Would she remain safe? From herself as well as from him? She patted her bed, taking comfort from Sable’s nearness as he curled up close to her.
    “What are your virginal fears, my lady,” Sir Edward taunted, “that you call your loyal dog to your side? Do you fear that I might steal a kiss?Or more? I daresay you would survive the first, and I should not consider the latter.”
    She sniffed, and was surprised when he leaned over to drop a swift kiss on her upturned mouth. It was over before she could protest, and she admitted to a faintly bereft feeling deep inside her. Loath to reveal her inner reactions to this now-dangerous man, she snapped, “Keep your distance, sir. Sable will obey a command from me.”
    Walking to the far side of the room. Sir Edward sank down on the one chair. His deep chuckle unsettled her. With great difficulty she turned to face the wall and hoped she might find a few winks of sleep this night. She needed to be rested for what she had in mind. The ache in her head subsided and she drifted to sleep, feeling secure in the most absurd way that she would have no necessity for Sable’s defense.
    When next she opened her eyes she could discern faint light from the window. Gingerly sitting up in bed, she discovered that her head was near normal. Across the room Sable curled up near the fire, close to where Sir Edward stretched out beneath his greatcoat on the hearth rug.
    The fire burned brightly, evidence of frequent tending during the night. Victoria waited a few moments, then, satisfied Sir Edward was sound asleep, edged from her bed. In a few minutes she had donned her other gown and the ruined half-boots.
    She debated, then emptied the contents of her fountain ring into a small mug of ale, taking care not to be observed. In spite of her attempts to be quiet, he had awakened. With a deep breath for Dutch courage, she walked to where the man now watched her.
    “Your breakfast ale, sir?” she said with what she hoped was a parody of a pert maid.
    “How kind,” he replied with that charming smile. He finished the drink, then relaxed on the rug again while Victoria busied herself about the little room, folding the blanket, stowing her other clothing away.
    “I vow, ‘tis cozy in here. The rain has subsided, and I fancy we might be rescued before long.” She chattered on softly about nothing in particular, finally risking a glance at him again. He was sound asleep, albeit a drugged sleep.
    Swiftly donning her gray cloak, she snapped her fingers at Sable. The dog came, reluctantly leaving the man on the floor behind.
    “Sable, we cannot be sentimental.” At the door she paused, taking a long look at Sir Edward, committing those bewitching features to memory before resolutely turning away.
    Together the pair slipped from the little windmill that had housed them, then began to trudge along the road to Canterbury.
     

Chapter 3
     
    A round-eyed Rosemary tugged at the skirts of her newly returned and dearly beloved aunt. Her babbling was, as usual, quite incomprehensible, her concern obvious.
    Her twin, the more silent Tansy, sat on the floor of the morning room, staring at her aunt with a worried