Pausing with the intention of turning back, he glanced in the direction of the village church, the tower of which could just be seen through the trees. To be confronted with the girl’s damned Frenchman of a husband was another matter altogether. Shall I send him to Sir John?” Annabel was white to the lips, but her anger was not yet spent. "Where can I hide myself?" he added, glancing round the room in search of a closet. Then as she lay very still, with her hands clinched and her black hair tumbled about her face, he came still closer and softly kissed the nape of her neck. Horrors abounded in every passageway as each turn could bring a vision of a poor woman running from her screaming plague-infested son or a bloated corpse of a rich man whose mouth lolled open, showing gaps where someone had pried out a few golden teeth.
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