Curan was a confident commander.
Bridget watched him from her second-floor room. Dawn was turning the sky pink. Even before what she would call daylight, his men were rising. The few tents they had erected were being disassembled in the meager light.
A knock at her door startled her. Whoever it was did not wait for her to respond, either. The door was pulled open by one of the knights standing outside. A little sigh of relief passed her lips when she saw her mother standing there.
“Good. You are awake.” Jane entered the room and turned to make sure the door closed completely behind her.
“I did not sleep long.”
Her mother came closer and took her by the hand. She led her to the far side of the chamber in front of the window.
“There is nothing I can do to stop Lord Ryppon from taking you.” Her mother scanned the men below. “In truth, I am not sure I should.”
“What do you mean?”
Her mother was pale. There was fear in her eyes Bridget could not recall seeing before, except for the brief time her brother had been ill and the physician suspected smallpox.
“Lord Ryppon claims there is a plot to gather evidence against the queen and that your father is helping those who would see her brought low.”
Bridget felt her own face drain of color. Her mother’s hands tightened around hers. Men made decisions that too often had terrible effects on the women in their families. If her father or brother became entangled in a scheme against the queen, the entire family would be stained. Their lands possibly forfeit. She and her mother would become beggars at the tables of their relatives.
“Lord Ryppon claims that the king is dying.”
That at least made sense. No one dared say Henry Tudor was dying. There were men who would try to gain the king’s favor by delivering anyone foolish enough to say such a thing out loud as a possible treason plotter.
That did not keep many from thinking that the king’s days were drawing to an end. Times were turbulent indeed. Henry’s only son was a boy too young to rule. That fact would plunge England into dark days filled with regents and noble families struggling for power. Marriage was a common way of uniting those powerful names, yet if the king discovered the vultures gathering to feast on what he left behind, Bridget doubted there would be any mercy in him. No man liked to admit his own mortality, and Henry Tudor would be no different.
“I cannot go to London.”
It didn’t matter if it was a disobedience against her father. Bridget felt her stomach clench at the mere idea of riding into the swirling plots circling the king. Only a fool sought such a fate, or a woman who was greedy for power. She had lived this long without it. Marie’s words rose from her memory.
Bridget stared at her mother. “I will not go there, Mother.” Her voice was edged with respect but full of determination.
“I do not believe that Lord Ryppon intends to allow you any choice on where you go, Bridget.”
That brought her a measure of relief. Her mother read it off her face.
“That does not mean you should celebrate your marriage, Bridget.”
Frustration filled her. “What is it you suggest I do, Mother? He has every right and an army to enforce his will.”
Her mother nodded. “I know. Yet I fear for you if you go to his bed. Your father has powerful friends. To lie with Lord Ryppon is an insult to Lord Oswald now that your father has given the man his word on a match between you.”
“Mother—”
“Forgive me, Bridget; I know I am making no sense.” Jane cast a look behind her to ensure they were still alone. “You should allow Lord Ryppon to take you north.”
Excitement flickered in her belly. Bridget looked down to conceal the unexpected response from her mother. But Jane cupped her chin and lifted it.
“Your cousin Alice is married to a Scot. Their land borders Lord Ryppon’s.”
“Of course, that is why father arranged this match.”
Her mother sighed. “Well, one of the reasons, Daughter. There are others, but it appears that your father feels those reasons have diminished compared to the gains he might secure with Lord Oswald.”
“You want me to seek Alice for sanctuary?” The idea sounded absurd, but she could think of nothing else her mother might be suggesting. Yet she had not seen Alice since they were children, and Scotland was not a place for an English noblewoman to venture into without a great deal of thought. As well as prayer.
Jane’s face lit with satisfaction. “Yes.” She pressed a small bag into Bridget’s hands. It was heavy with coin. “Use this gold to bribe Lord Ryppon’s men once you are on his land. Go by night, and your cousin will give you shelter. I will write to her today so that she expects you. Make sure you only bribe someone without a sword. If a man carries a sword with Sir Curan, I doubt his loyalty is for sale.”
Bridget looked at the small purse; it reminded her of a serpent because it would indeed give her the means to escape Curan. The memory of his kiss rose thick and hot from her mind.
A heavy knock made them both jump. It was loud enough to echo off the far wall of the chamber. Only a man’s fist made such volume of noise.
“Well now. Up with you, Bridget.” Her mother offered her a smile that she knew was false. It was the
