Page 46 of Lord of Deception

Chapter Thirty-Five

When Kit burst into the room and saw Avery on top of Alys, he tore him off her. No sooner had the man found his feet, than Kit drew back his fist and dealt him a blow that knocked him to the floor.

“Death is too good for you, you despicable worm. I’ll tear you apart, piece by piece, and feed you to your hounds. Not to my own, lest your vile flesh stick in their craws.”

He stood over his fallen foe, the blood roaring so loud in his ears, he was barely aware of the other men charging into the room in his wake. Someone brushed past him and headed through the small doorway opposite, while others threw water onto the gunpowder scattered about the room.

A swift glance having satisfied him Alys was safe, Kit dragged Avery to his feet and gave him another cuff to the jaw that sent him staggering across the room. “Running away so soon, spawn of Satan?” he spat. “Come back here, and I’ll give you your due.”

“Kit, he has a knife!” Alys croaked out a warning, but Kit had seen the movement, and twisted Avery’s wrist until he dropped the weapon. With a kick, Kit sent it scudding across the floor.

Avery yowled with the fury of a madman. Kit bared his teeth at his adversary—he must show no weakness, despite being injured and weary. Avery knew he was fighting for his life, and like a rat in a trap, would battle on until his last gasp.

Sucking in a few deep breaths, Avery appeared to take control of himself. “Shall we settle this like gentlemen?” he inquired, inclining his head towards a sword lying close to the narrow doorway.

“How could we do that, when there is only one gentleman present?” Kit needed their fight ended quickly, so he could attend to Alys.

Avery hissed at the insult and made a lunge for his blade. Without betraying a flicker of concern, Kit called out, “A weapon, someone, that I may spit this pig.” His eyes never left his adversary’s as one of Walsingham’s men thrust a sword into his grip. He made Avery a sarcastic bow.

With a blade in his hand, Kit felt lighter, more alert, and tense in every muscle. At court, he was renowned for his skill at swordsmanship—every move he made was calculated, and swift, and his concentration could not be broken. Avery, he soon discovered, was a bit of a clod-hopper, swinging his blade wildly, and trying to use weight and force rather than speed and agility.

Avery made a feint which he parried instantly, pushing the man’s blade upwards so he could strike under his arm. The traitor reeled backwards, a dribble of blood flowing through the cut in his doublet.

“You fight well for a gardener,” he sneered, before resuming his attack with renewed fury.

Kit held his temper in check. Slowly, patiently, he wore his enemy down until the man was dizzy and panting—but still, Avery stood up to him.

“I have tasted your whore, but she wasn’t worth the trouble. No more than that doxy’s daughter who has the gall to call herself queen.”

Kit’s jaw clenched. He mustn’t lose his head—Avery was bound to be lying. And if he wasn’t, he’d regret the day he was born. He smote at Avery’s arm, again leaving a trail of blood welling up through the torn cloth, and permitted himself a triumphant smile. The man would be distracted now, by the pain and blood.

“Cease, Ludlow!” came a new voice. “Take the traitor, men. We want him alive for questioning.”

Two men flung themselves at Avery, disarmed him, and held his hands behind his back.

Kit took a step forward and held his blade to the man’s chest, staring deep into his eyes, foretelling, without words, his future. Avery blinked and looked away.

The room seemed to hold its breath. Then with a great sigh, Kit flung his sword to the floor and turned his back. Pushing Avery from his thoughts, he turned to Alys, who was now standing. She looked pale and shaken, a great red mark and swelling on one side of her face.

“He hit you?” His voice was hoarse with disgust.

“I’ll recover, I’m sure. What about your arm? You were fighting as if there was nothing wrong with it.”

Sweet lady, to think of him when she’d been in such danger. She’d kept her head—she had more courage than some men he’d met, and he loved her all the more for it.

“I swear I was so angry, I’d forgotten I was hurt. The wound will probably need mopping up and bandaging again, but there’s time aplenty for that.”

He held her gaze and watched the color flow back into her cheeks. He held out his arms, and she sank into them, filling his being with joy. He held her, lightly to avoid hurting her, and felt the moisture of silent tears soak into his shirt.

It was too much. He held her away from him then and kissed the tears from her cheeks, wondering how he would ever be able to let her go. Eventually, someone coughing brought him back to his senses, and he eased away from Alys, still holding tight to her hand.

Richard Avery was no longer there. In fact, all the men had gone, save one.

“Alys.” Kit led her forward. “May I introduce you to Sir Francis Walsingham, Secretary to the queen.”

Walsingham bowed and took her hand, then assessed her with his astute gaze. She blushed under his scrutiny, and Kit understood she must feel at a disadvantage with her torn gown, bruised face and disheveled hair. Walsingham must have sensed this, for he immediately called for one of his men.

“Mistress Barchard needs the attention of a maid. See if anyone can be found to attend to her. Madam, you and I will meet anon.” Walsingham bowed, nodded to Kit, then strode briskly from the room.

Alys reached for Kit’s hand. As he clasped her fingers in his, she gazed up at him with a weak smile. “What shall I do now? Is there aught I can do to help?”

His mouth hitched up a fraction. “I rather think no more will be expected of you. Not by Walsingham, certainly. I, on the other hand, might still make some demands on your time.” He gazed around at the dripping walls and heaps of damp gunpowder. “I regret the damage done to your home. I fear it will fall to you to put the place in order. Seek help from Cheyneham—regrettably, all your present servants will need to be questioned before they are restored to you.”

“They’re being held? What of Kate, Hannah?”

“They were captured on the road heading north. They will be questioned, too.”

She tucked her hair behind her ears and gazed at the splintered paneling and the overturned furniture in Kate’s chamber beyond. “Aye, I shall amend the damage if I am at liberty to do so. But—” She hesitated, and he felt a tremor in her fingers. “What is still expected of you?”

“The danger is not yet passed. We still believe the plotters have an influential friend at court—while that person lives, none of us is safe. But as far as I’m concerned, I’ve done my duty and am a free man again.”

He grinned and took her in his arms again. Aye, he was free of his debt to the queen. Life could begin anew, and he’d make damn sure he made the most of it. With Alys.

“Be assured that I shall be by your side, my sweet, so long as you have need of me.”

And he prayed she’d have need of him for a very long time.