‘I do not!’ I gasped, trying to pull my hands away.

Suddenly he pulled me towards him and wrapped his arms around my waist. His dark head came down, his mouth close to mine. I could smell the pomade in his hair and the heat of the skin of his cheek. I shrank back even as I felt the desire to go forward.

‘Do you love another man?’ he demanded urgently.

‘No,’ I lied.

‘Do you swear, on all you believe, whatever that is, that you are free to marry me?’

‘I am free to marry you,’ I said, honestly enough, for God knew as well as I did that no-one else wanted me.

‘With honour,’ he specified.

I felt my lips part, I could have spat at him in my temper. ‘Of course, with honour,’ I said. ‘Have I not told you that my gift is dependent on my virginity? Have I not said that I will not risk that?’ I pulled away from him but his grip on me tightened. Despite myself, my body took in the sense of him: the strength of his arms, the power of his thighs which pressed against me, the scent of him, and for some odd reason, the feeling of absolute safety that he gave me. I had to pull away from him to stop myself from yielding. I realised that I wanted to mould myself around him, put my head on his shoulder, let him hold me against him and know that I was safe—if only I would let him love me, if only I would let myself love him.

‘If they bring in the Inquisition, we will have to leave, you know that.’ His grip was as hard as ever, I felt his hips against my belly and had to stop myself rising on my toes to lean against him.

‘Yes, I know that,’ I said, only half-hearing him, feeling him with every inch of my body.

‘If we leave, you will have to come with me as my wife, I will take you and your father to safety under no other condition.’

‘Yes.’

‘Then we are agreed?’

‘If we have to leave England then I will marry you,’ I said.

‘And in any case we will marry when you are sixteen.’

I nodded, my eyes closed. Then I felt his mouth come down on to mine and I felt his kiss melt every argument away.

He released me and I leaned back against the printing press to steady myself. He smiled as if he knew that I was dizzy with desire. ‘As to Lord Robert, it is my request that you serve him no longer,’ he said. ‘He is a convicted traitor, he is imprisoned, and you endanger yourself and us all by seeking his company.’ His look darkened. ‘And he is not a man I would trust with my betrothed.’

‘He thinks of me as a child and a fool,’ I corrected him.

‘You are neither,’ he said gently. ‘And neither am I. You are half in love with him, Hannah, and I won’t tolerate it.’