For a few moments she had forgotten the reality of her situation. She was a prisoner in a House of Pleasure. Misery engulfed her. Would she ever see England again? A tear trailed down her cheek. She tried chewing her forefinger. A second tear followed the path of the first.

Rannulf pulled her hand from her mouth. “You will return. I shall help you,” he promised, squeezing her hand.

Her shaming tears forgotten, Judith stared at him, and tried not to cling too hard to his hand. “You…you can get me home?”

Gentle fingertips brushed away her tears. Rannulf nodded. “Of course. Why do you think I am here?”

Judith went scarlet.

Rannulf’s eyes crinkled, but he chose not to tease her. “First, we’ll sneak you out of this place.” He raised a brow. “I take it you’ll accept my assistance?”

“Accept? Oh, aye. I accept,” Judith blurted eagerly. “But how? It won’t be easy.”

“You’re right. It won’t be easy. But, then, if something’s worth having, it’s worth fighting for, is it not?”

There was a strange edge to his voice. She shot him a sharp glance under her lashes, but his expression was bland.

“I tried to arrange your escape for tonight,” Rannulf informed her. “But it wasn’t possible in the short time I had. You’ll have to stay here another night.”

Her heart dropped like a stone. “But that would mean me spending another whole day here. They might find me another…another…” She gulped and tried again. “What I mean is, I might have to…”

Rannulf was at her side in a moment. Judith’s hand met his halfway. Long, brown fingers closed over hers. His eyes were very dark.

“It seems you’ll make a beggar of me yet, Judith,” he declared. “I’ll pay for the pleasure of your company till we can get you out.”

Judith gripped his fingers. Green eyes were smiling into hers, but there was something oddly intent about his face that made her stomach flutter.

“Do you agree, my maid?”

“My thanks,” Judith mumbled. She closed her eyes. Why was it that relief made one weak? She knew she should force her fingers to free Rannulf’s hand. He was too close. She felt strangely disoriented. It must be the after-effects of the drug.

She felt him lift her hand, turn it palm uppermost, felt a light pressure on her palm that might have been a kiss, and her eyes snapped open.

She was too late. Rannulf had released her, and turned to the table, and she was scowling at his back. “Don’t do that!”

“Do what?” Rannulf enquired innocently over his shoulder. “What did I do?”

Judith flushed.

“Some wine, my lady?” Rannulf held out a goblet.

He was mocking her. “You know I’m not a lady, and I’m certainly not yours!” she snapped.

Rannulf put his hand on his heart. “I can live in hope, can I not?”

“Oh, you’re impossible!” Judith snatched at the cup, but felt the beginnings of a smile tremble on her lips. “If it weren’t for the fact that I need you, I’d wish you to the Devil!”

“But you do need me,” he pointed out.

“Aye.” Judith stared moodily at the blood-red wine in her cup. She hated being beholden to anyone. She valued her independence above all else. That was why she’d chosen to go with her brothers instead of taking up the veil…

Something Rannulf had said stirred uneasily in her mind. She looked at him. There was no tactful way of asking this. “Rannulf, how much did you have to pay for me?” she asked bluntly.

Rannulf spluttered on his wine.

Cheeks aflame, Judith ploughed on. “I…I have no means of repaying you,” she explained stiffly. “And I…I would not see you beggared.” She pulled on a cushion tassel, and twisted the silken skeins round her fingers.

There was a dreadful silence, and Judith knew she had blundered. Rannulf’s face darkened.

“Maybe I should take what I’ve paid for,” he said in a hard, stranger’s voice. “Then there would be no talk of debts.”

Judith caught her breath. She lifted her eyes. “Rannulf, I’m sorry…”

Rannulf was favouring her with a glance which all but scorched her flimsy clothes from her body. His hands were clenched so hard that his knuckles gleamed white. Judith squared her shoulders and wrestled with a sudden impulse to move out of his reach.

“You wouldn’t. Not you, Rannulf.” she forced a smile.

“Can you be sure of that?” he demanded coldly.

“Aye. I think I can. The Rannulf that looked after me four years ago would never force—”

“Ah, but as you so rightly pointed out, my princess—” Judith bristled. The slaver had called her that in the market. Did Rannulf have to fling it at her as though it were a weapon? A dark brow arched “—times have changed since then. I am a mercenary coming home from the wars. I have bought your beautiful body…” His eyes glittered as he looked at her.

“But it would be wrong. I do not want—”

“I am to all intents and purposes a mercenary, Judith. I came on this crusade to earn my way in life. Do you think a mercenary should care for justice any more than Baron Hugo de Mandeville and his Norman compatriots?”

Judith put her hand to her head. “Rannulf…I’m sorry. I should not have said it. Please do not be angry—”

Rannulf did not hear her. “Do you loathe mercenaries as much as you despise Normans, Judith?”

“I…I didn’t know you were a mercenary,” she stammered, wishing there were some way she could reach him, but his anger was a wall between them.

His mouth twisted. “Mercenaries place themselves beyond what it good and right, Judith. Money is their master. That is their right and wrong. They have no moral code. That is what I have become. I tell you now, so you know. I am no better than an outlaw.”

Judith tensed She was an outlaw…

“So why should I not take you if I want?” Rannulf continued. “I have, as you say, paid for you. And by the laws that operate in this place that gives me the right.”

“I don’t believe you!” Judith flared. “You would not. And you’re no mercenary.”

“My lord Fitz Osbern paid me to come on crusade in his entourage,” Rannulf told her. “So what does that make me?”

Judith began to relax. That hard, glittering light was fading from his eyes. “Outlaws do not lack morals—” she’d learned to press home any slight advantage “—it may not be the official moral code, but a code there most certainly is. Even mercenaries must have a code—they must be loyal to the paymaster, or no one would hire them. Mercenaries and outlaws have to know right from wrong. They must abide by their own laws.”

“How do you suddenly know so much about outlaws?”

“I know because…because…” Judith floundered under his penetrating green gaze. She’d walked right into a mire.

Four years of learning to guard her tongue had made its mark on her. An instinctive wariness stopped her tongue running on any more. Even here, she must be careful of what she said about Eadwold and his warriors. If all went well, Rannulf would take her back to the Chase. She shifted her ground. “I know because I want to believe you will not hurt me,” she finished. She knew it was lame and that she sounded feeble, but it was that or risk damaging her brothers’ cause.

Rannulf’s eyes softened. “No, I’d never harm you,” he confirmed. “But there must be no more talk of what you owe me. You owe me nothing.” His tone reminded her of the one Eadwold used when he was not willing to brook any argument. Then Rannulf smiled and it took the sting out of his words.

Judith stood up abruptly. The chamber was hot and airless. She felt suffocated. She crossed to the window, flung open the wooden shutter, and cooled her forehead on the white plaster of the window embrasure. There were no bars on the window.

Judith was weary right through to her bones. She could not have slept properly in weeks. First she’d been captured in the Chase, and then there’d been the voyage in that stinking hell that was the hold of the slave ship. Sheer terror had held her imprisoned in a ghastly limbo that was neither waking nor sleeping. She’d not rested for fear of what she might find when she awoke.