than the rough vintage she was accustomed to. She tasted the pigeon in red wine and ate a little roasted capon followed by stewed plums and a junket of wine and curds.
‘You hardly eat, lady. Is the food not to your taste?’
‘I am not used to such rich fare, sir. I have eaten sufficient, thank you.’
‘You must try a peach. I insist.’ Lord Mornay reached for a succulent peach and began to peel it for her. He handed a slice to her on his knife. ‘I had these brought from Normandy. I have inherited an estate there and if the fruit is picked before it is quite ripe it travels well enough to be pleasing at table.’
Rosamunde stared at him, because to send for fruit from his estate in Normandy was such an extravagant thing to do, and she could not imagine what it must have cost to bring the fruit to a ship and then across the channel. She tasted the slice he had cut for her and smiled.
‘That is truly delicious. My uncle had peaches growing in his garden in Normandy but they were not as sweet as these.’
‘Your uncle?’ Raphael’s eyes narrowed.
‘Yes,’ Rosamunde dropped her gaze because she’d spoken without thinking. ‘My uncle of Saxenburg—my father’s brother.’
‘Ah, yes, I see. I know little of your family, lady. Do you have brothers, sisters, cousins?’
She could not look at him as she replied, ‘My uncle of Saxenburg has two sons. I have also a cousin on my mother’s side; her name is Rosamunde Meldreth.’
‘Then she must be the very beautiful lady I saw you with at the harbour in France.’
‘Yes, my cousin is very beautiful.’ Her heart was beating wildly and she dared not look at him.
‘You are beautiful too,’ he said. ‘In a different way.’
‘I do not think I am beautiful,’ she contradicted him flatly.
‘You should leave such judgments to others.’
Rosamunde could feel her cheeks burning. She reached for her wine and sipped it. Her hand was trembling and she had to hold the cup with both hands to steady it.
‘Why do you tremble? Are you afraid of me?’
Rosamunde raised her eyes to his. ‘I—I’m not sure. Should I fear you, Lord Mornay?’
‘Will you not call me by my name? I am Raphael to my friends. I travelled home with them but only one remains; the others have gone on a mission of importance. Sir Jonathan is here and you shall meet him later.’
Raphael? Her heart jerked because it was the name her hero had given her all those years ago. Could it be him after all? No, the youth who had so gallantly saved her kitten could not be the evil man of whom she had been told.
Her mouth was dry as she said, ‘You ask me to use your given name but I do not know you, sir. I am here as your hostage for my father but I beg you will treat me with the honour due to a lady of good virtue.’
‘Supposing I told you that I had already set your father free?’ he murmured in a low voice that did not carry.
Rosamunde’s eyes flew to his face. ‘Why would you do that when the ransom has not been fully paid? What is it you want of me, sir? I beg you, tell me so that I may prepare myself.’
‘You think I mean to disparage you and send you back to your family in shame.’ His gaze narrowed and his voice remained soft. ‘I believe it is time …’
What he meant to say was lost as a commotion was heard from the door and a struggle ensued as his men tried to stop someone entering. Raphael rose to his feet.
‘Who demands entrance here?’
A tall man stepped forward, at least ten armed men at his back. ‘I am Lord Danforth and here on Prince John’s business to see Lord Mornay.’
‘May your business not wait? Come, sir, bring your men and join us. You see that we are at table and there is a lady present.’
‘My business is urgent,’ Henry Danforth said. ‘I have travelled at some speed to bring you the prince’s commands, my lord.’
‘Yet I would ask you to wait, sir. I dare say your errand is important, but I am the master here.’
‘And I am your prince. Will you defy me, sir? I am come to call the traitor Count Torrs to account.’ A sudden hush fell as a man stepped from amongst the cluster of men at Danforth’s back, throwing back the cloak that had hidden his rich clothes and the jewels of state that proclaimed his rank as Prince John himself.
‘The count is not a traitor. He is loyal to the King.’
The words left Rosamunde’s lips before she realised, and brought a sharp look from Prince John.
‘He is a traitor, lady, and you would do well to mind your manners in the presence of your prince.’
‘Be quiet, lady,’ Raphael reiterated urgently in a low-toned voice and left his place. ‘You are welcome, sire.’ He walked towards the man, who was a head shorter and seemed almost puny beside him. Making an elegant bow, he apologised. ‘Had I known you were come in person, I should of course have acquiesced to your wishes immediately. Yet even so I would offer you food and wine.’
‘In private, sir.’
‘Yes, of course. I shall have food and wine brought to my solar.’ He turned his head, ‘Master steward, conduct His Highness to my solar and arrange for food and wine. His men can be accommodated here.’ The steward came hurrying forward, bowing his head. ‘I shall join you in a moment, Highness. I must speak with someone first.’
Raphael returned to his place at board amidst the sound of shuffling as the men closed up to allow the newcomers to find seats. One of the men sitting at the high table got up and offered his place to Lord Danforth, who took it with a word of thanks. Servants hurried to bring him a cup of pewter and a trencher of bread to which was added a mess of meat, worts and rich sauce.
Raphael looked at Rosamunde and his voice dropped to a whisper. ‘I believe you should return to your chamber now, lady. Stay there and do not leave it unless I send for you.’
‘My lord? I do not understand. What is happening here? Why has the prince come? Why does he call my father a traitor?’
Raphael’s hand gripped her wrist. ‘Do not ask questions. Go to your chamber and await my coming. Trust no one else if you value your honour and your life.’
Rosamunde’s heart jerked. She inclined her head. There was something about the sudden arrival of Prince John and his escort that frightened her. Her fear of Lord Mornay had lessened as they had eaten their supper. His warning seemed to imply that she was in danger—
a danger that came from somewhere beyond the walls of his castle.
Leaving the hall with her head held high, Rosamunde wondered what had brought Prince John here—and what Lord Mornay might have said to her had they not been interrupted.
Upstairs in her chamber,
