But he had forced them in and he couldn’t forget. They haunted him all day at the barn. Then in church there had been a flush to her cheeks, a curiosity and a hunger in her eyes that had burned through him. He had expected to see her there, but hadn’t expected—
‘Are you certain you did not see her? She came to about here.’ Eldric pointed to his lower chest. ‘And was about this big around.’
Hugh shook himself. He’d lose his head if he let his guard down. ‘It was a child.’
‘None of the children have masks,’ Eldric said. ‘And she had this look in her eyes... You didn’t see her? I would like to dance with her.’
Who hedidsee was Mitchell, his eyes roving over Alice as they laughed. Mitchell stepping closer to whisper in her ear.
‘Dancing’s not the reason why I’m here.’
Eldric’s brow rose. ‘There’s areasonyou’re here?’
Distracted. Too comfortable. He truly would lose his head. A mere slip of his concentration and he had alluded to his orders. To watch Alice and all the Fentons, as he had told the King he would. At the same time to find some hint of a reason why Lyman would be the traitor with the Half-Thistle Seal. To at least point doubt so the King wouldn’t look too closely athim.
Hugh smiled. ‘Of course, there’s a reason. I can only supply so much ale whenyou’redrinking it.’
Eldric lifted his shoulder. ‘I’ve had enough of ale. I’m finding that woman.’
Hugh raised his glass as Eldric walked away. He didn’t want to move at all. From this vantage point he could watch every detail of Alice, but she hadn’t yet seen him.
What would it be like to dance with her? Had he been a spy for the King so long that all he could do was watch?
A carol had started. Groups of people were gathering in a circle, their right arms raised, their left clasping their partners. Grand circles of people that would become smaller. He knew this dance well. It was one of the few that allowed touch.
Soon either Lyman or Mitchell would ask Alice to dance. Would hold her hand as they circled each other and her skirts brushed their legs.
Like hell.
He wasn’t about to stand by watching another man...any man...hold her. Not while he had breath in his body.
* * *
Alice freely tapped her foot to release her restlessness. Elizabeth was busy talking to Mitchell and now Lyman had joined them, and she didn’t think either of them would notice.
Lyman came to tell them the mummers’ dance would soon begin. It would be the Wedding Dance this year. It was one of her favourites, but she would miss it. Because when the mummers were dancing she’d make her excuses to search his rooms.
She was getting good at excusing herself. All she needed to indicate was her need for the garderobe and then simply go somewhere else. To forage through desks, wardrobes and purses if she was lucky.
Most often there wouldn’t be enough time. At least tonight there’d be entertainment. If the dances didn’t provide enough distraction, the food and talk would.
She truly did need time tonight, since she’d been unlucky in other homes she’d searched. Part of it was the lack of time she had, the other was her lack of information. The King had provided no insight as to whether the Seal was wood or metal. If it was the size of a man’s hand or as tiny as a thumb. All she knew was that the impression it made was not very big. Which meant she looked for something possibly easily hidden.
How was she supposed to find it?
What would happen if she didn’t?
‘Do you want to dance?’
Alice stopped tapping her foot and turned to Hugh, who had caught her unawares.
And he continued to catch her unawares: his appearance was startling to her every sense. It seemed impossible that he had returned to Swaffham. And after all this time it should have been impossible for her to be so affected by him. And yet she was.
Tonight his clothes were as fine as any nobleman’s. The burgundy lines of his tunic framed his lithe build and were trimmed in velvet. The silver around his belt and boots glinted. During his time here his hair had grown, curling now around his collar. None of which softened the hard slant of his jaw or his piercing storm-filled gaze.
‘Which dance?’ Her eyes strayed to the lock of hair that fell loose and soft over his forehead.
There was a quirk to his lips. ‘The one that’s beginning right now.’
