Page 17 of Lord of Deception

Chapter Fifteen

Alys allowed her companion to lead her through the crowd to a series of small pavilions. He strode right up to a gap-toothed old woman wearing the most fantastic motley of clothes, who was seated next to a sign proclaiming her skills as a wise woman and fortune teller.

He handed the crone a coin. “God give you good day, Goodwife Tyler. This for the private use of your tent.”

The woman nodded and grinned, displaying the black hole of her mouth. She seized the coin and vanished into the crowd with surprising speed. Kit held aside the tent flap, and Alys ducked inside.

The splendid peculiarity of the room caused her to stare around, open-mouthed, before accepting a seat beside the heavily draped table. An expensive-looking bowl filled with water reflected the subdued sunlight filtering through the white canvas walls. All kinds of occult paraphernalia littered the room, from unrecognizable dried animals dangling suspended over her head, to outlandish rocks, feathers and plants. Strange symbols had been painted on the inside of the pavilion, intermixed with suns, moons, and the beasts of the zodiac. A pack of cards was strewn across the table, strangely illustrated.

Kit seated himself in what must normally be the wise woman’s place, draped as it was with rich fabrics, brass bells and bone talismans. Placing his hat out of sight by his feet, he then stared into the scrying bowl, a wry smile pricking at his lips.

She gazed at him, noting with a skip of the heart how different he looked today. He was smartly attired in matching doublet and hose of bottle green, with brown stockings and a sleeveless leather jerkin. He’d undone the ties of his shirt and the top buttons of his doublet, a concession to the heat of the day. It puzzled her that he’d brought such a heavy hat, in preference to his straw sun hat, which would have been much cooler.

He glanced up and caught her staring. She tried to look haughty.

“Tell me why you think me an impostor, and I’ll answer you.”

Alys held up her hand to count off ideas on her fingers. “You’re very fastidious in your toilet for a gardener.” His long locks were always well-groomed. “You have opinions about things not relevant to your alleged class. You speak to me in a way that ought to earn you a flogging. What say you to that, Master Kit, if that is, indeed, your name?”

He narrowed his eyes. “I am, indeed, called Kit. I never lied about that.”

“You know how to handle both horse and hawk, you commanded a groom with no expectation of being disobeyed, and your hands are soft—too soft for one used to manual work.” She reached for his hand, turning it over to reveal the palm. There were fresh blisters there, which had not yet become the hard calluses one would expect from frequent labor. He sighed and took her fingers in his. There was a tremor in them, showing a disquiet he was keen to hide.

“Very clever, Mistress Barchard. Your observations are astute. It is a relief to me that I don’t have to be secret any longer, with you at least. But I dare not tell you my story.”

No! She wanted to know everything about him. “Why? I’ll tell no one. And if you’re leaving, it matters not who you actually are, or what your story might be.”

“It shames me.” He dropped his gaze to her fingers.

“It shames me that I allowed an undergardener to kiss me. I would rather think I’d been kissed by a gentleman.”

He laughed softly. “Of course, you would. Then be assured a man with the lineage of—but not deserving the name of—gentleman, kissed you. But he does not wish to reveal his true identity or title.”

Kit had a title? Whatever could have happened to reduce him to such circumstances?

And why was she still letting him hold her fingers?

“However, I can tell you that I am undertaking a kind of penance for a misfortune at court—”

“Court? You’ve been to court?”

“Aye, but I will only say more if you promise your lips are sealed.”

She nodded, her fingers tightening involuntarily on his.

“To make amends, the queen required me to take myself away from court and learn to do something useful for a change. Total abstinence from the company of women was to be part of the punishment.”

He’d met Queen Bess? Her confidence tumbled. Here was a man of superior standing, perhaps even more important than Sir Thomas. She hardly dared recall some of her past behavior towards him.

Her voice caught as she asked, “Why were you banished, sir?”

“Don’t call me that.” The hardness of his voice alarmed her.

He stroked her hand. “Forgive me, but no one must know. You promised, remember?”

She nodded, transfixed by the movements of his fingers. Each touch ignited a sizzling flame, sending pulses of sensation up her arm. What would it feel like if he were to kiss her again?

“If I tell you, you’ll snatch your hand away. Or laugh.”