Lord of Deception
Trysts and Treachery
Book One
By Elizabeth Keysian
© Copyright 2020 by Elizabeth Keysian
Text by Elizabeth Keysian
Cover by Wicked Smart Designs
Dragonblade Publishing, Inc. is an imprint of Kathryn Le Veque Novels, Inc.
P.O. Box 7968
La Verne CA 91750
Produced in the United States of America
First Edition June 2020
Kindle Edition
Reproduction of any kind except where it pertains to short quotes in relation to advertising or promotion is strictly prohibited.
All Rights Reserved.
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
License Notes:
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Additional Dragonblade books by Author Elizabeth Keysian
Trysts and Treachery Series
Lord of Deception (Book 1)
Lord of Loyalty (Book 2)
Lord of the Forest (Book 3)
Lord of Mistrust (Book 4)
Lord of the Manor (Book 5)
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Publisher’s Note
Additional Dragonblade books by Author Elizabeth Keysian
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter Forty-Six
Chapter Forty-Seven
Chapter Forty-Eight
Chapter Forty-Nine
Chapter Fifty
Chapter Fifty-One
Chapter Fifty-Two
Chapter Fifty-Three
About the Author
Chapter One
Suffolk, England 1585
Alys Barchard glared at her cousin and waited for the blow to fall. Kate Aspinall was wearing that expression again—a jest was coming, and it would be at her expense. It always was.
“So, what think you to a wager?” Kate rested her elbows on the railing of the wooden platform that gave them a view across the knot garden.
A wager? A trap, more likely. Alys frowned. “But you know I have nothing to stake.”
“Oh, don’t be such a dullard. What about your embroidered pocket, the one you finished the other day? What use have you of that when you’ve naught to put in it?”
“It took me all spring to fashion.” Alys meant to wear her hanging pocket as often as possible, to show off her skills as a needlewoman. Not that any men were likely to take an interest in her, forever eclipsed by her beautiful, wealthy cousin.
Kate’s eyes narrowed. Aye, here came the pout, the spoiled-child face that usually preceded stinging words. Since the loss of her husband last year, Kate’s faults had magnified a hundredfold.
Nonetheless, sympathy curbed Alys’ tongue. “Very well. Let my pocket be my forfeit. What are we wagering on?” She’d have to ensure she won the wager.
The sulky look vanished. “It concerns a man.”
“Which man?” The only regular male visitors to Selwood Manor were Sir Thomas Kirlham and his friend, Richard Avery, neither of whom Alys liked.
“My new gardener.” Kate’s gaze roved across the garden.
Alys’ fingers tightened on the railing. “The one your steward picked out at the hiring a sennight since?”
“The very one. Is he not a sight to set the hardest heart a-racing?”
The new gardener was in full view, but hopefully out of earshot. He was crouched down, snipping some errant stems from a rosebush, his shirt clinging to a broad expanse of muscled back. His heels pressed against tight buttocks, clad in a dusty pair of hose.
Alys swallowed. “Mayhap.”
“Mayhap? Fie on you, Alys—you have milk in your veins, not blood. He’s the handsomest fellow I’ve seen in a twelvemonth. Do you not see how gracefully he moves?”
Of course, she saw, but she wasn’t prepared to own it. Any confidence shared with Kate became common knowledge in an instant. Besides, it mattered not if the man was good-looking—he was but a servant.
“So, you admire him. But what part does he play in our wager?”
Kate’s smile was sly. “My challenge is this, to see which of us can steal the first kiss from that desirable mouth.”
Kiss the gardener? Had Kate taken leave of her senses? The idea sent a shiver skittering up Alys’ backbone. A sinful shiver.
Kate grinned as the man got to his feet again and tilted her head towards Alys. “Look at those long legs. I’ll warrant he could sit a horse admirably. Of a certain, he would ride a woman just as well.”
By the rood! If she weren’t so beholden to Kate, she’d slap her face for such wickedness. The woman must be taken in hand soon, or she’d drag the great name of Aspinall down into that same mud the gardener now brushed from his hands.
As if sensing their perusal, he turned as he stood, and bent a dutiful knee. His brown eyes flickered over them before he politely averted his gaze. Was there a mocking tilt to that firm mouth? Alys shivered again.
“You’re playing the fool, Kate. I can’t be party to such impropriety. Let’s go within—the wind is biting.”
“What wind?
