Free The Lady's Maid by Dilly Court

and also to chat and exchange gossip. The market place was filled with the sound of cattle lowing, the bleating of sheep and the occasional grunt from pigs snuffling at the straw in their pens. The stall holders had to shout even louder to advertise their wares, but Kate was not interested in buying fruit and vegetables, pots and pans or willow-pattern china. She had come with a single purpose and she went straight to the stall that sold ribbons, lace, pins and needles, coloured silks and spools of cotton. She had just paid for her purchases when a voice at her elbow made her jump.
    ‘Good morning, Kate.’
    ‘Sam, you startled me.’
    He dragged off his wide-brimmed felt hat and brushed back a lock of dark, curly hair, eyeing her with a teasing smile. ‘You was so intent on them snippets of ribbon and lace, you wouldn’t have noticed if a brigade of soldiers had marched up behind you.’
    She could not help smiling. It was hard to be cross with Sam for any length of time. He had been her friend and playfellow during her visits to her grandparents’ farm for as long as she could remember. It was more than fifteen years ago that her grandfather had found Sam and his sister tied to a cattle pen and abandoned. Sam had been six years old then, and his sister Molly little more than a babe in arms. Gradually and with much coaxing, Sam had been able to tell Grandpa Coggins that his father, a journeyman carpenter who travelled the countryside looking for work, could no longer care for him and his sister after the untimely death of their mother. He had left them in the market place in the hope that some kind soul would do exactly what Ezra Coggins had done.
    Sam, she thought fondly, had grown into a fine-looking fellow, all muscle and bone with the wickedest twinkle in his eyes that were such a deep shade of blue that they sometimes looked black. His smile could charm the birds from the trees, of which he was very well aware, and he was a dreadful tease. He gave her bonnet strings a playful tug. ‘What’s the matter, Kate? Cat got your tongue?’
    ‘Never mind me. What are you doing here? Pa didn’t say he was sending any animals to market.’
    ‘There was a small matter of some hens’ eggs. Someone, mentioning no names, forgot all about them in her hurry to buy folderols and frippery to make herself pretty for the harvest supper.’
    Kate frowned. It was true. In her haste to get to market she had forgotten all about the wretched eggs. ‘You could have reminded me, Sam.’
    ‘You was off like an arrow from a bow this morning. I thought I’d catch up with you on the highway, but you must have had winged feet for I never saw you on the road.’
    ‘Squire Westwood offered me a lift in his dog cart, if you must know. But seriously, did you or did you not bring the eggs to market?’
    He jingled a leather purse in front of her eyes. ‘Biddy Madge took the lot for her stall. Said as how there’d been folk clamouring for eggs all morning. What say you to a tankard of cider in the King’s Arms afore we sets off home?’
    ‘I’d say you are a bad influence, Sam. Pa would kill me if I were to set foot in a public house, and you are supposed to be working.’ She tempered her words with a smile. ‘You may drive me home though.’
    ‘Thank you, my lady. First off it was dancing with Squire Westwood last Christmas in the village hall, and now he has you sitting up beside him in his dog cart. It’s enough to give any girl airs and graces.’ Sam placed his hand on his hip and tossed his head in a fair imitation of a flighty female.
    ‘Hold your tongue, you cheeky monster.’ Kate gave him a gentle shove, but she could not help laughing at his antics.
    He rammed his hat on his head and proffered his arm. ‘It would be a pleasure to escort you home, Miss Coggins. But there is a condition.’
    ‘Which is?’
    ‘That you promise me the first dance at the harvest supper.’
    ‘You drive a hard bargain, Mr Loveday, but you