“I regret giving you any offense, my lady.” He fought to keep the hoarseness from his voice.
“You regret it only because you were caught. Had you not been seen, I vow you’d have tried to take it further.” She strode onward, her skirts brushing the box plants at either side of the path until she reached the next corner. This brought her diagonally opposite him, with a complex twist of the maze between.
He willed her to look at him. “What you saw was a pretense. Would that I could say more, but I’d not betray my Mistress Aspinall’s trust.”
Now that was a piece of cunning. If he could set the two women against one another, he was likely to learn more, and at the same time, Mistress Barchard would be gulled into thinking he had integrity. Which, of course, he did.
Finally, she looked into his eyes, and he felt a shock of attraction, which intensified at her blush.
“If you have an explanation, you must share it with me. I am kin to your mistress, so her concerns are also mine. Speak! Or would you court dismissal?”
She had backbone, this woman. He was a good head taller than her and standing almost breast to breast. “What must I do? Mistress Aspinall will turn me off if I tell you. You threaten the same if I do not.”
She backed off and moved away, putting another corner of the maze between them. He sought her gaze again, determined to disconcert her.
With a toss of her head, she continued pacing the convoluted path. “If you must lose your position either way, you may as well tell me what trust my cousin has placed in you.”
He squared his shoulders and enjoyed the sight of her flushing again. Soon, she would be eating out of his hand. This spying business wasn’t as hard as he’d feared.
“That kiss was not freely given. ’Twas cajoled, nay, threatened out of me. Not that it’s my place to speak against the lady.”
“I knew it. So, you had no other thought in your head than preserving yourself?”
“Indeed. My kisses are generally given in private.”
Hah! She had reached the center of the maze, and he was cutting off her retreat. He repressed a grin as her eyes measured the breadth of his chest and snagged on the open collar of his shirt.
She waited for him to get out of her way, but he didn’t move. His eyes flickered to the smear of flour on her cheek, marring the rosy glow of her discomfort. He kept his voice soft. “Am I to be dismissed?”
“Perhaps not. As you’ve told me the truth, despite Kate adjuring you not to, I’ll not pursue the matter. You’ve conned your lesson. I must go now.” She stared pointedly past him.
“Before you do, give heed to the flour upon your face.” He hadn’t meant to touch her, to brush his thumb caressingly over her cheek. A frigid silence enveloped them, and his breathing hitched. Fool!
Before he had a chance to back away or apologize, she’d hitched up her skirts, trampled over the box hedge, and marched out of the maze.
Sighing, he surveyed the wreck of his carefully trimmed plants. And prayed to God he hadn’t given himself away.
Chapter Five
Three days after her encounter with the gardener, Alys sat down to break her fast with Kate and Hannah Shawcross, one of her cousin’s acolytes who’d come to visit. Sir Thomas was absent, which was a relief. Alys had ofttimes wondered why the knight did whatever he pleased when he was at Selwood, almost as if he had a stake in the place.
Rays of sunlight gilded the wooden paneling, and the dust motes danced in shafts of light—it looked set to be a fine day. Mayhap their august visitor had been unable to resist the lure of the weather and had already ridden out to enjoy it.
Hannah sipped at a spoonful of frumenty, then gave Kate a sideways glance. “You look like the cat who has got at the cream.”
Alys had noticed this, too, and was having unsettling thoughts about Kate and Sir Thomas. She prodded her sops in wine with her spoon. If Kate were to marry Sir Thomas, her chances of being tolerated at Selwood Manor were slim—unless she was forced to be nursemaid to Kate’s offspring. Which meant no hope at all of inheriting Selwood, or finding a man who would be interested in marrying her.
“At least one of us doesn’t look miserable as a sinner in Hell.” Kate jabbed her knife in Alys’ direction.
“I don’t—”
Hannah cut in. “Has Sir Thomas proposed? Or is the queen visiting these parts? I’d so love to meet her. Those dresses—”
Kate shook her head, pushed away from the long oak table, and wandered over to the window. She sighed, her ample bosom heaving beneath the tight mustard-colored bodice she wore.
Alys bit her lip, refusing to play Kate’s game, but Hannah was more forthcoming. “Why do you sigh?”
“Because I am happy, satiated, and a little the richer.”
Satiated? What in Christendom did she mean by that? Alys’ latten spoon clonked onto her bowl.
Hannah drummed her fingers on the table. “I beseech you, just tell us, Kate Aspinall—you’re putting us all off our breakfasts.”
Kate beamed. “I won a wager with Alys three days ago—the same day Sir Thomas arrived—and got her embroidered pocket. So, for that, I am the richer.”
Kate loved acquiring things. Especially those belonging to other people.
“What was the wager?”
Hannah’s eyes grew wide as she listened to Kate’s explanation. Then she laughed. “How droll that Sir Thomas should catch you kissing him. Alys showed great wit in saying you were rehearsing a scene.”
“Oh, don’t waste praise on her. It was I who charmed his suspicions out of him. But I must confess to having gained more than a kiss from the handsome fellow.”
Alys’ jaw dropped. She’d warned the man—had he taken
