An Honorable Rogue Read Online Free PDF Page B

may fetch him. Tell him he may have his usual fee, unless he'd rather settle for food and lodging.' Another imperious wave sent Rozenn hurrying to the door.
    'Very well, Comptesse, I'll see if I can find him."
    The front door of her house in Hauteville was shut up when she got back, which probably meant that Ben had already left. Unlocking the door with the key she kept on the chain at her waist. Rose pushed it open and went in, stomach tightening. Ben had not said how long he was planning on staying in Quimperle. But surely he would not come back for just one night? Not when they had so much more to talk about... No. no--vaguely she recalled him saying they would talk again later.
    'Ben? Ben?'
    A large bluebottle was blundering about the shop, but other than that the house was silent. In the living room, the bread on the table had been cut, one of the apples had gone, and the goat's cheese had been covered with a cloth. Flipping back the cloth, she smiled. He'd left her half. And Per's key was no longer there.
    One of Ben's packs sat neatly on the pallet; there was no sign of his lute.
    She huffed out a breath. Where might he have gone? He might be visiting old friends in the White Bird, but he could just as easily be in one of the dockside taverns. Or he might be singing in the market square, or playing dice in Count Remond's guardhouse; he might even be watching the hawks in the mews--he was fascinated by their speed and strength and ferocity. Resolving to walk back via the market square and the guardhouse, Rozenn left her house and locked up.
    Benedict Silvester was a will-o'-the-wisp. It was entirely possible that she might not run him to earth at all. Countess Muriel and her ladies might have to entertain themselves.

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Chapter Three

    At that very moment Ben was in fact in the castle stables, climbing into the hayloft to meet Alis FitzHubert. He was wearing his second-best tunic, the green linen one that was edged with silver braid at the neck, cuffs and hem, for he planned to win work in Count Remond's keep later that day. His lute, in its bag, was slung over one shoulder.
    Lady Alis was the youngest, the newest and arguably the prettiest of Countess Muriel's entourage. A blonde beauty, she had arrived at Castle Hellon a few months ago and everyone in the keep had been led to believe she had come from Paris. That her status was relatively high was proclaimed by the deep dye of her pink gown, by the bright silks woven into her girdle, by the silver pins that kept her veil in place. Lady Alis was shod in neat white slippers, slippers that were fashioned for wearing indoors and looked completely impractical to Ben's eyes, even though he understood the importance of dressing as befitted one's station. White slippers were certainly out of place in a stable.
    The air in the loft was warm and smelt of hay and horses. Shafts of sunlight slanted down through chinks in the slate roof. Outside in the bailey, where the count's men-at-arms were being put through their paces, the sergeant barked out an order.
    'Christ. Alis,' Ben muttered, glancing askance at the mounds of hay covering the planked floor, 'you will have to be more circumspect when you choose the place for our next rendezvous. If we are seen, Sir Edouarz will certainly believe you are not the chaste fiancee you claim to be, and I am in no position to defend you. He could reject you.'
    Shrugging off his lute, he set it carefully on a bale of hay. The hayloft was built on a platform to one side of the stables and the ceiling was so low that he had to duck his head to avoid hitting it on a beam.
    Alis opened wide blue eyes at him. 'Sir Edouarz, reject me? I think not, Benedict. When I am done here, my dowry will be large enough to overcome any such scruples. The Duke said--'
    'The Duke had no business asking a woman to undertake such a commission.'
    Alis tossed her head and her veil quivered, giving Ben a glimpse of a honey-blonde braid. 'You think a woman