Bone of Contention by Roberta Gellis

the street toward the shop of the mercer who had supplied almost all her embroidery materials—and sold her work, too—for most of the years she had been in Oxford. She took about two steps in that direction, then turned sharply about and went back across the road to the grocer. William’s was not the only mouth that could eat strawberries, she had a right to pleasure too. And though she sighed over her folly, with her mouth watering she purchased the berries.
    With a mingled sense of guilt and righteous self-indulgence, Magdalene pulled her veil down to pop a strawberry into her mouth, pausing a moment to savor the sweet, sharp taste. Sighing with satisfaction, she set out again for the shop of Master Redding, the mercer.
    Two more strawberries, the reddest and softest, were saved from possible decay. Magdalene slowly chewed the second while she examined the broadest ribbons on the mercer’s counter. Having sucked any possible strawberry stain from her fingers, she pointed out two ribbons, one a dusty blue and the other a bright green. Then she turned her attention to the thin hanks of thread hanging from three wooden trees fastened to the counter, she asked the prices, chaffered over them, and, satisfied, began to lift off those she wanted. There was no need to restrain her buying of embroidery yarn, sooner or later she would use every bit.
    While the apprentice took her money and folded the thread inside the wide ribbon, which he rolled up tightly and secured with a string, Magdalene returned her attention to the grass bag of strawberries. She was examining the contents carefully, seeking the ripest, when a hand seized her arm. Crying out softly, she gripped her shopping basket even more tightly and tried to pull her veil back across her face while she raised her head to scream for Master Redding to come to her defense. The shout died unborn.
    “Sir Niall!” she exclaimed. “You idiot! You frightened me half to death.”
    “Why should my taking your arm frighten you?” he asked, and then shook his head impatiently and added, “Never mind that. Come inside.” He urged her around the edge of the counter toward the shop door. “I think you are the answer to all my prayers.”
    “I think you are drunk!” she riposted tartly.
    Nonetheless, Magdalene let him draw her into the shop. He didn’t look drunk, for one thing, and for another, she was reasonably sure Master Redding would not allow her to be assaulted on his premises.
    “That is Loveday of Otmoor,” Niall said, drawing Magdalene toward the far end of the counter in the shop where a young woman with a worried expression was conversing with Master Redding, the mercer.
    Magdalene stopped dead in her tracks and looked up at Niall. “You fool!” she whispered, turning away. “You do not introduce whores to—” Loveday of Otmoor? she thought. Where have I heard that name? And then it came back to her, Diccon saying that Sir Niall was courting an heiress named Loveday of Otmoor. Her eyes widened. “You do not introduce whores to young ladies you are courting with hopes to marry!” she muttered fiercely, pulling free of Niall’s hold.
    “Where did you hear that?” he asked, looking stunned.
    Magdalene had retreated to the other end of the shop and Niall had followed her. “Go away!” she urged. “I don’t think she’s noticed me. Pretend you don’t know me!”
    “No, listen to me. Loveday will be safer with you than being alone on her manor, and I can’t stay…” He drew a deep breath. “You don’t know what’s happened.”
    At that moment it became too late to escape notice. Loveday left the mercer and came across to where Niall and Magdalene stood. For the moment, although she glanced at her, she did not acknowledge Magdalene. She looked up appealingly at Niall.
    “Edmee is gone to London. Master Redding was afraid to keep her here with the streets full of armed men, not to mention that he expects his house to be forced to quarter some