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tempting tray and fumed at his delay. “Haint ever had a virtue,” she muttered under her breath.
    Sir Andrew chuckled. “How now? What about the virtue of chastity? Remember, I paid a great deal for that particular virtue.”
    She shifted again on the stool, then rubbed the side of her nose with her forefinger. “Aye, my mind mistook that for a moment.”
    “Of course it did,” he agreed in a soothing tone of voice.
    Her lie made Rosie feel sick.
    Jeremy poured red wine from a large clay jug into a silver pitcher. The polished metal gleamed in the candlelight. Then the squire shook out one of the cloths, folded it in the artful shape of a swan, and placed it on the table. When he noticed Rosie’s attention, he made an exaggerated display of his surprising skill with the second snow-white cloth.
    She hid her amazement behind a look of disdain. She didn’t want this green stripling to think that she had no idea why he had wasted his time to make two such fantastic shapes. She would rather eat a swan than look at one. From under the tantalizing cover of the tray, Jeremy extracted a small bowl of salt and a larger bowl filled with assorted fruits. He put the salt on one end of the table and the fruit on the other. Finally, he wedged a beeswax taper into the golden candlestick, and lit it.
    Rosie had never seen such a lavish table setting. The squire lifted the cover from the platter with a flourish. The supper’s delicious aroma filled the air. “Tis a torture,” she moaned.
    Sir Andrew chuckled. “Tis merely combing your hair.”
    “Nay! That!” Rosie pointed to the steaming dishes on the tray.
    He stopped his painful occupation with her locks, and placed his hands on her shoulders. “When did you last • eat, Rosie?” he whispered.
    “Yesterday after we landed in France, but twas only some stale bread crusts.” She glanced at him over her shoulder. His hazel eyes returned her look with a heart-melting warmth. She forced herself to ignore the confusing feelings that stirred within her. “We had a dinner of tripe at a public house in Dover, but the journey over the water was too rough. I puked it all away afore we were even out of sight of land. God shield me, twas a hellish trip.”
    Sir Andrew put down the comb and brush on a chest. “Then I shall not make you wait any longer.” He stood and held out his hand to her. “Come, Rosie, tis now or never.”
    Rosie groaned. Now the perfidious rogue had finally decided to debauch her! Just when she could almost taste the princely banquet set before her. Her empty stomach roiled with fear. Sir Andrew would soon discover her deceit, and she would never taste a mouthful of that delicious-looking supper. She stared at his hand, then at his grinning face. She cast a farewell glance at the roast chicken.
    “Where do ye want me to lie down, my lord?” she murmured.

Chapter Four
    S ir Andrew’s smile broadened, making him look even more handsome than before. “Tis not yet time for bed, Rosie, but for supper, if it would please you to join me.”
    With a great sigh of relief, she jumped up so quickly, she knocked over her stool. Andrew restrained her before she could lunge for the food.
    He tucked her hand firmly within his. “A lady does not charge the groaning board like a battering ram,” he admonished her.
    Jeremy smirked, though he was wise enough not to look Rosie straight in the eye.
    Anger mixed with her hunger. “Haint a lady! And I am perishing for want of food. Is it your cruel jest to make me grovel for your pleasure?”
    Sir Andrew chuckled in the back of his throat, though he still held her tight within his grasp. “My pleasure is to escort you to the table.”
    Rosie tugged at her pinioned arm and shot him a frustrated look. “I can get there well enough on my own. In sooth, I can get there a good deal faster than ye, my lord. Tis but two short steps away.” The aroma of theroasted fowl enveloped her. “Let me go, for sweet charity’s