No, she hadn’t. He’d been subtle. If she hadn’t been looking she wouldn’t have caught him. A knight, a warrior—but with such an underhanded and subtle skill for scaring wrens. He must have learned it as a spy.
‘William certainly has the most feathers tied to his bow. I’ve never seen wrens moult so many before. It’s almost as if someone had plucked them from the birds, or stolen some from other nests.’
‘Fanciful thoughts!’
She glanced at Hugh, caught the teasing light in his eyes that he allowed her to see, but his face was inscrutable.
He was good at being duplicitous—even in something so simple as a Christmas tradition.
Had he lived this way since he’d left? When he left Swaffham, he’d been determined, single-minded. He’d pulled himself up with hard work and skill. Not with lies or flattering words.
Where along the way did his cynicism come from? He’d been soangrywhen he’d arrived. His manners had been smug, suspicious, spiteful. But since then he’d changed. It was more than his helpfulness with the barn restoration. Now he was almostattentive.
She should be more cautious when it came to him, but he’d shown other sides to him, and she needed his help. And she knew, somehow against all evidence, that she could trust him.
What a strange connection of events to bring them here now. Both of them spies. Both celebrating a winter tradition with a comfortableness she’d never had with him before.
‘Tell me something of your spying.’
His brow rose. ‘It isn’t wise.’
‘Then tell me something else.’
‘That isn’t wise either.’
He slowed his pace. They were out in the open, their conversation could be heard, and yet there was no other time.
‘Pretend we’re at dinner and we’re exchanging idle pleasantries.’
He gazed at her, taking in all her features. A brief glance...a warming glance, before he looked away, his brows drawn.
He took a few more steps while she walked beside him.
‘Well?’
‘Anything between us is hardly “idle”, Alice.’
His comment, spoken so calmly and in a low voice startled her, and she missed her step. He grasped her elbow and brought her close.
Rain, steel... Hugh. She felt off kilter, like a distaff with lopsided wool, like she’d slammed into him again as she did at the Tower.
He released her suddenly. ‘Tell me something ofyourlife.’
She shook her head, gathered herself, and continued to walk. Her legs were feeling more unsteady than that brief touch warranted.
‘Other than that one fateful trip to London, I’ve been in Swaffham all my life. Except for the upcoming journey when I tell my monarch if I have succeeded or failed, I don’t plan to leave again. Not much else has happened to me.’
‘I doubt that.’
Another glance. It wasn’t his gaze that warmed her, but his words. Attentive. She truly needed to be cautious with him.
‘Tell me of those years,’ he said. ‘Tell me what projects you’ve been doing.’
‘I have had no projects.’
‘Youalwayshave a project, or a cause, or someone to fix.’
His words scraped uncomfortably. Didn’t anyone understand her need to help? If she didn’t help, what else was left for her? She’d thought he understood since he had worked, if not beside her, at least with her.
