Page 1 of Lord of Deception

Chapter One

Suffolk, England 1585

Alys Barchard glared at her cousin and waited for the blow to fall. Kate Aspinall was wearing that expression again—a jest was coming, and it would be at her expense. It always was.

“So, what think you to a wager?” Kate rested her elbows on the railing of the wooden platform that gave them a view across the knot garden.

A wager? A trap, more likely. Alys frowned. “But you know I have nothing to stake.”

“Oh, don’t be such a dullard. What about your embroidered pocket, the one you finished the other day? What use have you of that when you’ve naught to put in it?”

“It took me all spring to fashion.” Alys meant to wear her hanging pocket as often as possible, to show off her skills as a needlewoman. Not that any men were likely to take an interest in her, forever eclipsed by her beautiful, wealthy cousin.

Kate’s eyes narrowed. Aye, here came the pout, the spoiled-child face that usually preceded stinging words. Since the loss of her husband last year, Kate’s faults had magnified a hundredfold.

Nonetheless, sympathy curbed Alys’ tongue. “Very well. Let my pocket be my forfeit. What are we wagering on?” She’d have to ensure she won the wager.

The sulky look vanished. “It concerns a man.”

“Which man?” The only regular male visitors to Selwood Manor were Sir Thomas Kirlham and his friend, Richard Avery, neither of whom Alys liked.

“My new gardener.” Kate’s gaze roved across the garden.

Alys’ fingers tightened on the railing. “The one your steward picked out at the hiring a sennight since?”

“The very one. Is he not a sight to set the hardest heart a-racing?”

The new gardener was in full view, but hopefully out of earshot. He was crouched down, snipping some errant stems from a rosebush, his shirt clinging to a broad expanse of muscled back. His heels pressed against tight buttocks, clad in a dusty pair of hose.

Alys swallowed. “Mayhap.”

“Mayhap? Fie on you, Alys—you have milk in your veins, not blood. He’s the handsomest fellow I’ve seen in a twelvemonth. Do you not see how gracefully he moves?”

Of course, she saw, but she wasn’t prepared to own it. Any confidence shared with Kate became common knowledge in an instant. Besides, it mattered not if the man was good-looking—he was but a servant.

“So, you admire him. But what part does he play in our wager?”

Kate’s smile was sly. “My challenge is this, to see which of us can steal the first kiss from that desirable mouth.”

Kiss the gardener?Had Kate taken leave of her senses? The idea sent a shiver skittering up Alys’ backbone. A sinful shiver.

Kate grinned as the man got to his feet again and tilted her head towards Alys. “Look at those long legs. I’ll warrant he could sit a horse admirably. Of a certain, he would ride a woman just as well.”

By the rood! If she weren’t so beholden to Kate, she’d slap her face for such wickedness. The woman must be taken in hand soon, or she’d drag the great name of Aspinall down into that same mud the gardener now brushed from his hands.

As if sensing their perusal, he turned as he stood, and bent a dutiful knee. His brown eyes flickered over them before he politely averted his gaze. Was there a mocking tilt to that firm mouth? Alys shivered again.

“You’re playing the fool, Kate. I can’t be party to such impropriety. Let’s go within—the wind is biting.”

“What wind? You mean this light summer breeze? You will accept my wager.” Kate’s blue eyes were hard, determined.

A pox on the woman! After a brief hesitation, Alys bowed her head. Kate would kiss the fellow and win the precious embroidered pocket. She must concede defeat—it was the only way to maintain harmony at Selwood Manor.

But what if the gardener preferred to kiss her? No, she couldn’t ask him—not even a poor relation like herself would kiss a mere servant. No matter how desirable he looked.

“Very well, I accept. What shall your stake be?”

“I’ll give the rosary that belonged to our grandmother.”