Had We Never Loved by Patricia Veryan Page A

when he’d been a hunted fugitive, at some time during the night a faint sound had jerked him awake. Moonlight had been flooding through the upper window, and by its soft radiance he had seen Amy creep in, wearing a long white nightgown daintily embroidered with tiny flowers and butterflies. Her long hair hung like a shining mantle about her shoulders, and she had watched him warily, very obviously ready to take flight if he showed any sign of wakefulness. Afraid of frightening her away, he had feigned sleep while she crept closer. He’d felt her cool fingers on his cheek, then she had cautiously pulled the blanket higher about him. When he’d opened his eyes, she was gone.
    In his half-dazed state she had seemed as if surrounded by a glow, and he’d thought her angelically lovely. In the cold light of day, he decided that illness and moonlight had clouded his common sense. Amy was indeed beautiful, but there was little of the spiritual about her. She had a bold and challenging way of looking at one; her skirts were of a length Lady Nola would certainly judge vulgar, revealing as they did her ankles (very neat ankles one must admit); and what angel went with a knife in her garter and did not scruple to whip it out with not a vestige of modesty? And what an ungrateful wretch to be criticising her when she had cared for him!
    â€œMy apologies an I was staring,” he said humbly. “You are very lovely, Amy. And you’ve been more than kind to me.”
    She smiled and began to remove the contents of the sack. “We prigged yer purse, don’t forget. Look at this! Two fine hens for dinner!”
    He glanced at the hens disinterestedly. They were plump birds, already plucked and dressed. “I retrieved my purse,” he pointed out. “You had spent very little.”
    She took out a loaf of bread. “Didn’t waste no time counting it, eh? Just as well. Never can tell what thieving gypsies will do!”
    â€œDo not bristle. Certainly, I have caused you to buy more food. You must let me help with your expenses.”
    â€œLor’,” she said, her mouth curving scornfully. “Don’t you never think o’ nothing else? I don’t want yer silly money!” She saw the amused upward twitch of his dark brows, and before he could make the obvious comment, she added, “I know what you’re thinking, but I didn’t know ye when I—borrowed yer purse. Besides, that were business. I don’t take money from folks I knows.”
    â€œYou mean from friends, which is quite proper. Even so, you must be sensible. You cannot afford to buy extra—”
    â€œExtra—what? I ain’t bought noth—anything.”
    He grinned. “Thank you. ‘Anything’ is better than ‘nothing.’”
    â€œYes, ’tis. So ye can enjoy yer dinner, ’cause if I hadn’t of prigged them cacklers you’d have nothing!”
    â€œWhat? You never did?” Dismayed, he reached out and caught her wrist. “Do you know you could be transported for stealing two hens?”
    She laughed and danced away, saying pertly, “They got to catch me first. Can’t transport what ye cannot catch, eh, me noble lord?”
    â€œKeep on like this and soon or late they will catch you! Surely you understand that, quite apart from punishment or whether or not they catch you, what you did is wrong. You took something belonging to someone else. Someone who may need it more than you do.”
    Her smile died, to be replaced by a stormy look. “La, how the aristo doth preach,” she jeered, slamming the hens back into the sack again. “They couldn’t need it more’n me, because they’d got it, and I didn’t!” Taking up the sack, scowling darkly at him, her face flamed. “And don’t you never look at me so high and mighty. Lor’, but you’d think as I’d murdered someone!”
    With her