Free An Honorable Rogue by Carol Townend Page B

love songs. His eyes were tender and, impossible though that might be, he was gazing at her, and only her.
    I would swim to England for your kiss.
    He was such a flirt.

----
Chapter Five

    When Rozenn woke the next morning, the light slanting through the cracks in the shutters told her that the sun had risen. There was no sign of Ben and his pallet did not appear to have been slept on. But she had things to do. Firmly suppressing any suspicions as to where he might have passed the night and in whose arms, Rose dressed quickly. It was market day. and she was determined to sell as much of her husband's stock as possible--nothing was going to distract her.
    By the time Anton had arrived at the front of the shop, handcart in tow, Rose had broken her fast and had the cloth piled up by the doorway.
    'Morning, mistress.' Anton indicated the heavier of the bales of cloth. 'These first?'
    'If you please.'
    After helping Anton load the cart, Rozenn accompanied him down the hill towards the Pont du Port, one hand resting on her stock to steady it.
    Captain Denez was again on guard by the drawbridge. 'Hola, Mistress Rozenn," he said, his usually dourexpression lighting when he saw her. 'Not with Silvester this morning?'
    Rozenn gave Denez a searching look, but she could find no malice in his expression. She was pleased to be able to reply without a blush, 'Ben and I are friends, Denez, no more."
    'Aye, mistress, as you say." But a fractional twitch to the man's lips told Rozenn that he was controlling a broad grin and that he disbelieved her. For a moment she seemed to hear a faint echo of the raucous cheering that had accompanied Ben's kiss on the jetty.
    Lifting her chin, Rozenn gestured at Anton to continue and the cart, laden with her cloth, rattled over the bridge at her side. Passing through the gate in the castle's curtain walls, they stepped into the bailey.
    Market Square was a small cobbled area squeezed in between the Abbey of Ste Croix and Count Remond's keep. The rest of Basseville, the part of the island where the ordinary townsfolk lived, lay behind the Abbey.
    The keep towered over them. The window of the solar was high up near the top. only visible if you tipped your head back and craned your neck. As Rozenn and Anton rounded a corner, the bells of Ste Croix rang out, calling the monks to matins. The Abbey was still being built and it was bristling with wooden scaffolding, but Abbot Benoit insisted that the services should take place in their proper order.
    Reaching her site in the market-place--they were early and there was hardly a soul in the square--Rozenn began heaving cloth on to the trestle.
    'My thanks, Anton."
    'My pleasure.' Anton helped her offload the rest of the stock. 'Will that be all, mistress?'
    'Monsieur Quemeneur wants you?'
    'Aye. I'm carting for him next."
    'You may go.' Noticing the expectant light in his eyes. Rozenn bit her lip. 'Oh. Anton, my apologies, I shall be needing my small change. Would it be all right if I pay you at the end of the day?'
    Briefly, Anton touched her arm. 'Pay me whenever you like, I trust you. Mistress Rozenn.'
    Her eyes misted. 'You cheer me up, Anton.'
    Grasping the cart handles. Anton trudged back towards the keep and the Pont du Port.
    The church bells continued to ring. A couple of other stallholders arrived to set up shop, and an arrow of white light--a seagull--flashed by and landed clumsily where the butcher's stall would shortly be.
    A small procession was winding down the steps of the keep, with Countess Muriel at its head. The Countess was followed by a handful of her ladies, their long skirts rich with the bright colours that only the wealthy could afford: fine linens dyed madder red in Paris, purple silks and satins from the east. They were heading towards Ste Croix to join the monks in prayer.
    A soft giggle had Rozenn's eyebrows snapping together. A glimpse of blonde hair escaping a veil that was light as gossamer produced a clenching in her stomach. Lady