Page 42 of Lord of Deception

Chapter Thirty-Two

As Kit lay back with a sigh upon the lavender-scented sheets, he wondered if Alys was being brave, or merely very foolish. No, not foolish. He was coming to know the real Alys, and she was virtually perfect. Too precious to lose. “I have said before, I don’t deserve that you should put yourself in such danger.”

“Believe, if you will, that I act out of loyalty to my sovereign. You need not flatter yourself that it’s all for your sake.”

“Ah, now you are being cruel.” His voice was muffled by Alys drawing his bloodied shirt up over his head—thankfully, she’d been sensible enough to soak the sleeve first. Thin-lipped, she prodded gently at the ruined flesh, but he saw no weakness in her expression.

Instead, there was anger. He hoped it was on his behalf.

They both stared at the wound. The cut was neat, having been made by a blade. He should recover well.

“How came you to be taken?”

He’d been dreading that question. His pride had been injured almost as severely as his arm. “I underestimated my enemy. Avery sought me out, suspecting me as I was the newest member of the household. He gave me no chance to deny it or defend myself. To him, everyone is expendable, be they guilty or innocent. He’s dangerous, Alys, and desperate enough to strike first and ask questions later.” He gazed down at his bloody injury. “He will pay for doing this to me. Next time, I’ll be armed and ready.”

As soon as Alys had bathed his wound and bound it tightly, he bade her spread out a fresh cloth and pour the damp black powder upon it.

“Don’t put it close to the fire—we desire only to dry it, not ignite it.”

Once satisfied he’d done all he could, Kit sank back and closed his eyes.

He felt the mattress dip beside him. “What do you think they planned to do with you?”

“I suspect they’ve sent for someone trained in the art of interrogation. An inquisitor if you like. Once they milked me for information, I could be slain, and they could depart for Spain or France, taking with them as much of their arsenal as they could. All traces of conspiracy would be removed, letters burned, underlings who knew too much would be disposed of—these people are utterly ruthless. Cowardly poltroons! They’d have learned nothing from me—I’d rather suffer and die than give in to their evil machinations.”

He felt Alys shudder. “Your loyalty to your masters, and the queen, is laudable. I know hatred of Catholics runs deep after the rule of Bloody Mary, but that was before my time. Try as I might, I can’t hate a person because of their religion. But we should all be judged by our actions, not our beliefs. I wonder how Kate came to be part of this conspiracy.”

“When she is imprisoned, you can go and ask her. But I won’t let you be alone with her before then.” When Kate found out Alys had helped him, her wrath would be deadly.

“When will you deem it safe to leave here?”

“Soon. Sooner yet if you give me a draught of that aqua vitae. My arm is as sound as you can make it, so I suggest we go as soon as the powder is dry.”

She shifted away from him. “Oh, but you must be hungry and thirsty. How long did they hold you for? Here, take my manchet.”

He opened his eyes and eased himself up on the bed. Bread first, then the alcohol, to give him courage. He stared at Alys while he chewed, feasting his eyes as well.

“You had better get dressed,” he said. Reluctantly.

“Why?”

“To come away, of course.”

“I’m not coming away.”

Fear sliced into him. “Why ever not? That was the original plan—you were going to meet me in that field. Good God, woman—it’s now more imperative than ever that you should come. They are sure to find out who aided me.”

“How so?”

He spluttered into his bottle. To think he’d decided she was no fool! Wiping the errant drops from his mouth, he said, “Well, for a start, they’ll be able to see that my bonds have been cut.”

“Not if they can’t see the bonds.” She grinned and held up the frayed ropes, then cast them into the fire. “I left no clues behind.”

His gaze snagged on her triumphant smile. The urge to explore it with his lips was powerful but now was not the time. He took a rapid swig from the bottle and thought again. “They will know someone drugged the guard.”

“How will they know, when I have the costrel here? They will assume he got at the ale somehow and drank himself stupid. Who knows, he may even make up his own story about your incredible escape in order to save face. He will say you broke your bonds, came at him with the force of ten men and knocked him unconscious.”

Kit set aside the bottle and grasped her hands in his. “Alys, this is not a game. We have won a minor skirmish—we haven’t won the battle, let alone the war. Our enemies are too powerful for us. Until Walsingham gets here, there’s naught we can do but make ourselves scarce. Enough has been done to foil the conspirators’ scheme, so you can now flee this place with a clear conscience, knowing you did your best, then return when all is settled.”