Page 31 of Lord of Deception

Chapter Twenty-Five

Sir Thomas was followed by a hard-faced Avery and a pallid Kate. Alys was puzzled to see Sir Thomas so upset by the disaster—after all, it wasn’t his house which had been inundated.

Kit’s cold hand reach for hers below the table. She pulled out of his grasp—now was definitely not the time for amorous games. Why did he seem so pleased with himself, anyway? Excitement emanated from his body, which was tense as a bowstring before the arrow is loosed.

Sir Thomas eyed the kitchen’s occupants. “We shall attempt no more salvage until daylight. Return to your beds—there’s nothing else to be done here.” Without waiting to see if his orders were obeyed, he strode out, followed by Kate and Avery. The servants melted away, and Alys was left alone in the kitchen with Kit.

He lifted an eyebrow, a triumphant smirk on his face. Curse the man—the glint in his dark eyes made her knees wobble. Ignoring him, she went to the scullery, tipped the dregs of the ale away, rinsed the jug and set it on the board. When she returned, Kit was crouching by the fire, wringing out his dripping hair over the hearthstone. Clicking her tongue, she edged him aside while she raked the embers together and settled the heavy ceramic curfew back in its place. Then she straightened up and swept past him to extinguish the lights.

“Not speaking to me, then?”

She made no response. The room darkened until only the faint glow of the embers beneath the curfew could be seen. The air was bitter with the smoke of extinguished candles. He ought to know he was required to leave.

When he gave no sign of moving, she said briskly, “Go to your bed now—you need your rest. You have a long journey to make tomorrow.”

“Oh, I don’t think I shall leave tomorrow.” Kit followed her out into the hallway. “I shall be too tired. Besides, I might be needed here.”

Alys, carrying her candle, brushed past him and made for the stairs. It was too late to talk, too much risk of being overheard. Besides which, his smug expression was infuriating—he must find his own way out and sit and drip in the plant shed.

Refusing to look at him again, she stopped on the bottom step of the stairs to untie her pattens—they were high enough for her to turn an ankle, not safe for indoor use. She ascended, waiting for the sound of the door closing to signal Kit’s departure, but heard nothing. When she reached the landing, she stopped and looked over the rail. A faint shadow revealed where he still stood in the hall, watching her.

No, she would feel no guilt. If he was wet, it was his own fault. She’d given them all a chance to dry off—if he preferred sitting next to her to drying by the fire, that was his own choice. She carried on and had just reached the door of her chamber when she heard the stairs creak. Her heart sped up as she fumbled with the latch, trying to balance her candle and the pattens in one hand. He was coming after her.

She burst into her chamber, pushing the door behind her, but it came up against something solid and was pressed open again.

“Surely you don’t expect me to go out again in this?” Kit pointed to the window, where the rain still rattled like handfuls of grit.

“How dare you come in here. I thought I bade you be gone.”

“Aye, you did, and I have chosen to disobey my lady’s command. I have a heavy matter to discuss with you, but I’ve brought a sweetener for the bitter pill.” He closed and locked the door, then reached under his cloak and placed a full wine bottle in her hands.

“You’ve stolen wine from the cellars?” A servant would be flogged for such a crime.

“’Tis your wine, Mistress Barchard. I mean, it belongs to the household. I brought it in the hope you’d be magnanimous and share it with me. Little time is left to us—let’s spend it pleasantly, at least.”

Fearful of what he meant by “pleasant”, she made a valiant grab for the key, but he was too quick for her and dropped it down inside his shirt. The smirk was back.

“Sir, you have no shame. I insist that you unlock that door and leave, or I’ll raise the hue and cry.”

“If you were going to do that,” he said evenly, placing the wine on her carved box, “You would have done it long since. If you do it now, they’ll all wonder how you came to let me in your room in the first place. Your good name would be in tatters.”

She sucked in a deep breath of indignation. A single scream was all that was needed. He took her face in his hands. “Ah, nay. I cannot have you giving me away.”

She stared into dark eyes that danced with danger. Then, totally involuntarily, her gaze dropped to his mouth, which widened in a smile, and he bent his head to capture her lips.

She struggled and pushed him away. “What ails you, man? I’ve warned you off, yet still, you give me no heed. Is there no end to your bare-faced effrontery?”

“Still angry with me? Never mind. I shall shortly resolve your doubts. But first, I must dry my clothes. Again. Excuse me, my lady.”

He turned to the fire and got it going, then pulled the screen she’d been embroidering across to shield him. One after another, various items of male clothing were spread over the top of the screen.

He was undressing. In her chamber. With her. She gulped.

“Have you a cloak or any such thing I may wrap myself in? These flames are too young to warm me.”

She sprang to life. “Tush, keep your voice down!” She grabbed up a blanket from her bed and dropped it over the other side of the screen, averting her eyes.

“I know not what alarms you so. There’s nothing here you have not seen before.”