An Honorable Rogue by Carol Townend Page B

Jaw tight, Rozenn fought down a cowardly impulse to rush to Ben and grab his hand. She held her ground, but barely.
    The grey eyes lifted. 'Ma chere, you will not reconsider?'
    'I...I... No! That is...' Her voice was too high; desperately she moderated her tone. She did not want to offend the man. but the thought of kissing him--it would be Per all over again. Praying he had not seen her revulsion, she waved vaguely at the remaining cloth on her stall. 'I--I thank you, monsieur, but I am not certain we would suit."
    'No?'
    Again his eyes were on her lips.
    Breath tight in her chest, she repressed a shudder. 'No.'
    He stepped away from the stall. 'You need time to consider. I understand. Even a widow like you, encumbered by her husband's debts--'
    'The debts will be paid off. I told you!"
    The cloth merchant nodded, but his gaze was on the contents of her stall. 'You need time," he repeated softly, before reverting to his more familiar, businesslike voice. 'Rozenn?'
    'Yes?'
    'If you want rid of these offcuts, I'll take them off your hands.'
    'Offcuts? Those are good pieces!'
    With a tight smile, Mark Quemeneur shook his head. 'Remnants all, but I'll take them if you find you need an extra denier or two.' Bowing, he turned and walked away.
    Rozenn glared after him. She was shaking from head to foot.
    'Hello, little flower.'
    Ben's brown eyes were warm and very welcome. Hauling in a breath, Rozenn had to steel herself not to throw herself into his arms. 'Oh, Ben."
    Rose's bosom was heaving with indignation and red flags were flying in her cheeks. No dimples. Ben smiled at her, and pressed a chaste kiss to her temple. The elusive fragrance of jasmine tangled with his senses. Surreptitiously inhaling, he draped a casual arm around her shoulders. She was glaring after Mark Quemeneur.
    'Careful, ma belle, you can fell men with such looks.'
    'I don't like him,' she said, glancing briefly up at him. 'I never have, but I never realised it until today.'
    Ben shrugged. 'The poor man is desperate to have you in his bed--is that so great a sin?' Briefly he caught a glimpse of a dimple. Her anger was leaving her.
    'It is when it is him."
    'You refused him?"
    'Of course I did! Did you hear the way he asked me? As though I'm an object and he's bartering for me, as though I can be bought!'
    Realising that he was stroking her neck in a soothing manner, and remembering his decision to keep his distance. Ben released her and rested his shoulder on a post at the corner of the stall. 'You still surprise me. Rose. Even after all this time. I thought I knew you."
    She wrinkled her nose, 'I surprise you?'
    Why was it he had only just noticed how long her eyelashes were? And why was it that every time he looked at her he suddenly wanted to kiss her? It had not always been like that. Ben was conscious of those melting brown eyes on him while she waited for his reply, and all he could think was that he was glad that he had got in one tiny kiss without her noticing, while she was fuming at Mark Quemeneur.
    He sucked in a breath. 'You didn't like his proposal.'
    'No.'
    'It was too...?'
    'Mercenary, like horse-trading.'
    Ben narrowed his eyes. 'Many marriages are made that way. You've heard the stories, rich lord weds ugly daughter to ambitious young knight.'
    Her eyes became stormy. 'You had better not be telling me I am ugly..."
    Ben threw his head back and laughed. 'Don't fish, Rose. It is unbecoming, and besides, you are wilfully twisting my meaning. All I am saying is that many marriages are made after a little horse-trading has gone on. It is the way of the world."
    She glowered as fiercely as one of the gargoyles adorning Abbot Benoit's half-built church.
    He held out his hand. 'Come on, Rose, you will frighten the sun away if you look like that.'
    'I'm upset.'
    'So I see.'
    With a sigh, she picked up a stray length of cream ribbon and began weaving it in and out of her fingers.
    'Your own marriage was carefully planned, was it not?' Ben went on. 'Did