Marpasse would have taken her to task for showing such hypersensitive self-consciousness, had not a horseman appeared above the crest of a low hill, and come galloping down into the freshness of the May morning. Marpasse looked at him as he came up, and the man’s face shone in the sunlight. He was out of the saddle, and standing by Denise, as though it was not easy for him to keep his hands from touching her.
Marpasse laughed, and looked brown and joyous.
“You see, lording,” she said, “I have brought her back fresh as a white may bough.”
None the less the may bough had a rich colour. Marpasse turned her back on them, and looked intently towards Lewes.
“Lording,” she said, “I give you while I count fifty. There is no time to lose, for the King means to fight to-day.”
Whether she wished it or not, Denise found her hands in Aymery’s. He stood and looked into her eyes, and neither of them said a word.
“Ten,” quoth Marpasse.
Aymery’s face came nearer to Denise’s.
“My desire,” he said, “if I live through it, I would have your heart for mine.”
Denise had gone red at first, but she was as white now as her shift.