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.”
Disgraceful man. The house had suffered a disaster, and here he was, teasing her, flirting with her. She glared at him as he emerged from behind the screen, swathed in his blanket. He bent to rearrange his shoes on the hearthstone, then looked around the chamber, before choosing to sit on Alys’ bed. The door-key made a brief reappearance but was then tucked beneath his thigh.
“Will you not sit with me? No? Then I shall have to raise my voice for you to hear me.”
Curse it. She needed to hear what he had to say. She sat stiffly on the bed, as far away from him as she could.
“As I said, I have proof to convince you of my mission and the guilt of your friends. You will give me a fair hearing, will you not? And, lest we catch a chill from all the dampness, I suggest we crack open this bottle and warm our insides withal.”
When the opened bottle was offered to her, she poured a little into her mazer and took a swallow. It was a fine Rhenish, quite sweet, and a rare treat.
“You certainly know which wine to steal.” She handed the bottle back to him, then shivered. Now that the radiant heat from the fire was cut off by the screen, the room was cold, so she slipped her shoes off and tucked her feet under her. One of them grazed Kit’s exposed calf, and he jumped at the contact.
“Your feet are frozen. Here, let me warm them.” Without further ado, he swiveled her around so her feet rested in his blanket-covered lap, and began chafing her toes between his palms.
Alys watched his bent head as he concentrated on his task, and felt herself begin to calm. Staring at Kit, who was always a thrill to look at, she realized he’d never cease to amaze her.
He’d turned her life upside-down, yet expected her to forgive him and remain his friend. He’d shouldered his way into her room, putting both of them at risk, yet he trusted her not to give him away. He’d toiled ceaselessly in the cellars, despite planning to leave, and now he was rubbing the life back into her feet as if he were genuinely concerned. She’d never met anyone like him before, nor did she expect to again.
She pressed her lips together, remembering the heated kiss he’d bestowed on her earlier that day—what a long day it had been! She took another draught of her wine and leaned back, enjoying the sensation of warmth at her feet. “You have something to tell me.”
He stopped his chafing and began idly stroking her toes. “Aye. First, I must ask your forgiveness for creating havoc in your home tonight.”
He’d done it? How?
Chapter Twenty-Six
She looked as if she wanted to murder him. Holding her gaze, Kit stroked her ankle, making tiny circling movements with his finger. It seemed to calm her—or at least, distract her.
“It’s true—I brought about tonight’s catastrophe, but for the best of reasons. You know I was concerned about that dark-skinned foreigner, who attended Kate in the guise of a cunningman. He broke his rosary, and had to pick the beads up off the road.” He reached for his hanging pocket and brought out the Venetian black glass bead, placing it in her palm.
“Keep the bead. If your enemies catch you with it, they’ll think you are one of their own. If my friends catch you with it, they’ll know how much I was prepared to trust you, and will do the same. Anyway, the so-called cunningman didn’t leave the house openly, but emerged from the middle of a hedge onto the highway. I suspected he must have some hidden access to the manor—that’s why I was asking you about the cellars. I pounced on the idea of a tunnel but knew not how to find it. The old pond gave me a fragment of an idea, then the bad weather completed the plan.”
Alys reached for her wine. It slipped down far too easily. No matter—she suspected she was going to need it.
“The level of the old fishpond is above that of the present house. The retaining wall is crumbled and old—it only needed a few bricks to be dislodged and the overflow pipe broken, for the additional pressure of the rainstorm to collapse the whole structure. This would
