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He looked down at her and she was hoping beyond hope that he was reconsidering his intention. But much to her horror, he deliberately removed his mighty sword from its scabbard and ran a finger along the sharp edge. The movement was slow, calculated, bordering on the actions of a madman. Horrified, she continued to watch as he intentionally drew his own blood.
“If I were to believe you and let you go, what is to say that you will not run right to Henry and spill yourself?” he asked slowly, his eyes glittering like the devil.
She gulped at the blood streaming down the side of the pristine blade. “I can only give you my word, my lord. I will take your secret to my grave.”
“I know you not. What good is your word?”
“The word of a bastard daughter of noble breeding,” her throat was tight with fear. “I respect your wife, my lord, and would do nothing to harm her.”
William cocked an eyebrow. “And I love my wife and would kill without hesitation for her.”
Aloria blinked fearfully; the entire length of the broadsword was lined with red blood. “My lord, would that I could change things. But I cannot. I have sworn my loyalty to you in spite of your doubts, and there is nothing more I can say. If you are going to kill me, then get on with it.”
William stared at her for a long while, seeing nothing but honesty and truth in her eyes. She never wavered from her story; not once.
Rapidly sheathing his sword, he turned on his heel and was gone, bolting the heavy door.
Shaken and astonished in every sense of the word, Aloria vomited her guts into the moldy straw.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Kieran and Paris met their captain at the top of the stairs as he ascended from the dark bowels of the cellar.
“Jesus, William, wipe the blood from your sword,” Paris hissed.
William glanced at his sword and then examined his hands; there was blood all over them, too. He heard Kieran mutter a curse.
“It’s my own blood. I guess I nicked myself,” he said calmly.
His men looked a horrified. “My God, what did you do? Chop her to death?” Kieran demanded softly.
“She’s not dead,” William replied softly. God, he was feeling defeated and miserable. “She’s very much alive.”
Paris and Kieran glanced at each other. “Why? William, she knows. You cannot allow her to live.” Paris insisted.
“Yet she lives just the same,” William looked at his men for the first time. “She convinced me that she is no spy and for that I will spare her life for the moment, but you are correct when you say she ‘knows.’ But I believe I must speak with de Longley before I take her life for her unfortunate mistake.”
The three of them went to seek out the earl. He was not a difficult man to find, sitting in his solar in his favorite chair, contemplating the world outside his window. He did that often and William always wondered what could keep the man’s mind so busy that he could sit for hours, staring into nothingness.
De Longley heard the knock at his door, turning as his three knights entered the room. He could see at once that something was wrong.
“What is it, lads?” he stood up.
He saw the blood on William’s hands and sword and was instantly very concerned, but William waved him off.
“ ’Tis of no consequence, my lord,” he assured him. “An accident. But we do have a problem.”
“What sort of problem?”
Paris and Kieran stood like huge silent sentinels behind William as he spoke.
“The queen’s lady, Aloria, has discovered our secret,” he said quietly. “I accused her of spying and took her down to the cellar where I was planning on disposing of her, yet she managed to convince me that she was not spying and for the moment, she is spared. The fact remains, however, that she holds a catastrophic bit of information and I must seek your wisdom in this matter, my lord.”
De Longley looked at his captain a moment in shock before turning away, wandering listlessly toward his desk. “Great Gods, William. How on earth did she find out?”
William shook his head. “I was in Jordan’s chambers and she came upon us and heard a bit of our conversation. Not much, but enough.”
The earl let out a sort of strangled grunt, scratching his thinning hair. “And you are sure she is not a spy from Henry?”
