CHAPTER THREEThe sun was bright and birds were singing. Elvira breathed on the glass of the loft window until a hole formed in the ice and she could just see an edge of white thatch.
She sat back on her heels listening. From below she heard the smack of clogs on the stone floor, which must be the old woman.
There was no sound indicating the presence of the stranger.
Remembering herself clasped against his bosom the night before, a faint flush suffused her cheeks. She had not been herself – she had been in a fever – the concoction he gave her had gone to her head!
She buried her face in her hands mortified. It would be best if she never saw him again. Perhaps, she thought hopefully, he and his Master have already departed!
She raised her head as the smell of hot milk and fresh bread ca
