Shattered Vows Read Online Free PDF Page A

head, and smiled. With his eyes.
    Her stomach lurched, she must be hungrier than she thought. She started to babble. ‘It’s said that if May-dew is collected early on May day, and you wash in it, it’ll keep your skin free of blemishes and bring beauty for the whole year. It’ll bring you luck. And you can wipe that horrible smile from your face.’ Giving her face a last frantic dab, she paddled to the bank and wished her tongue didn’t have a tendency to run away with itself when she was discomposed.
    Oliver offered her his hand to help her to her place. His eyes danced. ‘Tell me, does washing in May-dew mean you don’t need to wash for the rest of the year?’
    She scowled and said nothing. He had cut several neat slices of meat, and laid them out on the muslin cloth. It was yet another reminder of the gulf that existed between them. Her father would have shredded the meat, he would never have arranged slices so daintily on the muslin...
    Courteously, he gestured at the meat. And Rosamund’s stomach let her down a second time, it growled like a wolf. She ground her teeth together and turned her head so she didn’t have to look at him.
    ‘Rosamund, eat.’ Something stroked the back of her hand. A caress? Angrily, she shrugged it away.
    ‘Rosamund,’ he said, softly. He took her fingers lightly between his – it was a delicate, courtly gesture, more fitted for a lady than a miller’s daughter.
    She steeled herself to try and meet his eyes but it was impossible. ‘I’m surprised you want to eat with a peasant like me,’ she muttered. ‘We’ve nothing in common. We speak differently and watching me eat will probably put you in mind of a pig at a trough.’
    A firm hand took hers, he pressed bread into it. ‘Your speech is as clear as a lady’s when you put your mind to it. Eat.’ Then to her intense relief, he turned his attention to the food and cut into the cheese.
    Rosamund was acutely conscious of the gulf which yawned between them. Socially they were miles apart. She didn’t want to disgust him. She ate the bread and meat more slowly than she had ever eaten in her life. She copied the way he took small bites, and the way he chewed his food for longer. It was hard, for she was hungry and it seemed to take an age before she had blunted the edge of her appetite.
    ‘Better?’ His deep voice startled her.
    Reluctantly, she put the heel of the loaf back into the saddlebag. ‘My thanks, yes. I was very hungry.’
    ‘So I saw.’
    She shot him a sharp look, but his eyes were friendly and she relaxed. ‘I thought, for a moment, that our dream was to be shattered.’
    He smiled. ‘I know you did, but it wasn’t.’
    ‘No.’ Returning his smile, she leaned back in the grass. He stretched out beside her and picked up a strand of her hair, idly twirling it round his forefinger. A distant bell tolled and a bee buzzed past them, lost and heading for the sea.
    His lips twisted. ‘It cannot last.’
    Rosamund frowned. She would have touched his face but, recalling his reaction the last time she reached out to him, she let her hand fall back.
    ‘We cannot live out our dream, you must know that.’ His voice was husky.
    ‘We have until sunset.’
    ‘That would be a great folly.’ His voice was kind, but firm. ‘I want to...but no.’
    There was a light in his eyes that belied the firmness in his voice. Rosamund’s lips curved. ‘Want to...what, Oliver?’ Reaching up, she touched his cheek. He had high cheekbones. Beneath her fingertips she felt the slight abrasion of a growing beard. This time, he made no move to reject her, but lay quite still.
    ‘Oliver? What do you want? Is it this?’ Boldly, her hand slipped up and round his neck and then his mouth was on hers. It would have been impossible to say which one of them had moved to close the gap and she didn’t care. His mouth felt welcoming. Warm. His lips moved slowly and gently across hers.
    Rosamund had tried to imagine this kiss. Some deep,