a moment as they took in the swell of her bosom in the tight bodice. They skipped lower, scanning her narrow waist and the curve of her hips to finish their exploration at the sensible shoes protruding from beneath her grey skirts. ‘You’re very much a woman now.’
Rebecca drew herself up to her full height and said in a prim voice, ‘It would be strange, indeed, if I were not, Master Hurst. After all, like you, I have seen twenty-four summers. Your appearance has certainly changed, although your habit of putting me to the blush remains!’
‘Ha!’ he laughed. Then the smile vanished. ‘But you’re not blushing and I have never forgotten that you were the prettiest maid I had ever seen.’
‘You flatter me, just as you did then.’
‘I spoke the truth.’
He sounded so sincere that her heart seemed to flip over as she recalled once more that distant memory, which now seemed like only yesterday. Pip’s father’s employees had taken time out from their work to eat their midday meal of bread and cheese and, as her father, Adam Mortimer, had also left the yard, they had called upon Pip to tell them a tale. The tension that had been so present in his features when under her father’s eye had relaxed and he had become a different person as he began to spin a yarn.
‘I remember that day when you told the men your own version of the ballad of Robin Hood, acting out the parts and putting on different voices,’ she murmured. ‘You caused much merriment and I kept praying that neither of our fathers would return before you had finished.’
‘I am glad I amused you, because you were far too serious a child,’ said Phillip, his blue eyes alight with remembrance.
‘I thought I had cause to worry that day,’ she retorted. ‘You knew that the king was expected later and that tale had been banned. The nobility was convinced that it might encourage the commoners to take it into their heads to imitate Robin and his merry men by robbing the rich to feed the poor.’
Phillip shook his head at her. ‘One can’t prevent a good tale from being retold time and time again, Becky, but I recall you didn’t approve of my ending.’
She felt the blood rise in her cheeks. ‘You said I could be honest in my criticism.’
‘So I did! Fool that I was, I convinced myself that you would be kind,’ he said mournfully, his gaze holding hers as if he could read her thoughts.
She remembered how, back then, he could pierce her to the soul with one of his intense looks, causing all sensible thought to desert her. She had believed herself to be a plain mouse of a creature because her father was so critical of her appearance, and she had been in need of love and affection. ‘My comments were fair,’ she said stiffly.
Phillip’s fair brows drew together above his fine nose and he folded his arms. ‘You began by stammering out that you could find no fault with my skill as a storyteller, but then you added “as for the plot ending it was unbelievable.”’
She bit her lip. ‘You—You looked at me as you do now and you barked at me “No, it isn’t!”’
‘And you squeaked “B-but it isn’t true to life! I’ve listened to several of your tales and too often you wander into the realms of fantasy!”’ Phillip mimicked her voice to perfection.
The roses in her cheeks deepened. ‘I told the truth, never expecting that it would make you so angry,’ she protested. ‘I was shocked when you said that I would obviously prefer an unhappy ending and gave me an alternative one with Robin dead in a dungeon and Marion raped by the Sheriff of Nottingham.’
Phillip had the grace to apologise, but spoilt it by adding, ‘But be honest, Becky, at the very least you’d have had Robin going off on another crusade and being killed in the fighting. Marion would have taken the veil and ended her days in a nunnery. You had no faith in our hero making her happy and providing for her at all!’ His manner was teasing but, somehow, Becky was unable to respond in kind.
‘It’s my experience that there are few heroes in this life, but I will say you have an excellent memory,’ she said tartly.
‘I need it to remember my lines,’ he riposted.
‘And you have been fortunate to realise your dreams and live the life of a player; I remember how much you disliked the work of shipbuilding.’
He stared at her intently. ‘Ah, yes, that was proper men’s work, was it not? I remember how you used to blush and flutter your eyelashes at my brother Nicholas.’
‘Of a surety I did not! It was just that I was more conscious of your brother because he had worked in the yard before he went travelling,’ Rebecca replied, hotly, and, deciding it was time this conversation came to an end, she bid him good day and strode off.
‘Be honest!’ he called after her. ‘You believed that being an explorer made him a hero. You were madly in love with him.’
‘And what if I was?’ she said recklessly, preferring him to believe such a thing, rather than that she had ever lusted after him.
He caught up with her and grabbed her arm. ‘But you clearly married someone else! You didn’t wait for him,’ he said, indicating the band upon her wedding finger.
Rebecca sighed. ‘That was because Giles asked me to marry him. Master Nicholas had no real interest in me, he had his own dreams to pursue. And if you don’t mind, you are bruising my arm!’ She pulled away.
A frowning Phillip slackened his grip. ‘’Tis a pity women can’t be strolling players as well because you’d never forget your lines.’
‘I do not know what you mean, Master Hurst. I have to reach Minster Draymore before dark. Good day to you, sir.’ Rebecca moved away from him and put on a spurt as she walked along the path which now led on to open country.
‘Perhaps I should remind you,’ said Phillip as he caught up with her. Taking her by her upper arms, he brought her close to him. ‘You said that being a player is not the stuff of which heroes are made.’
Her grey eyes did not flinch beneath his blazing blue ones. ‘Well, I beg your pardon, Master Hurst, if you deem my words uncalled for at the time. As it was, I only had your best interests at heart, believe it or not! You are to be congratulated in making your dream come true. I remember seeing you perform before the king as you vowed you would that day, and I applauded you for your achievement.’
He looked surprised. ‘When was that?’
‘When my husband was still alive. My musician brother, Davy, saw to it that we were invited to the entertainment during the Christmas festivities at Greenwich Palace.’
‘Why didn’t you come and make yourself known to me?’
She could not bring herself to say that she had feared he might not remember her and that would have been too embarrassing. ‘You had enough admiring women around you and I had no intention of joining their number,’ she replied lightly.
He frowned. ‘And no doubt your husband would not have approved. Do you still believe me a fool for becoming a player and deem I should be building ships for His Grace?’
‘I don’t remember ever saying you were a fool, but it is true that I consider boatbuilding a steadier
