A hand was clamped over his mouth and his hands secured to his sides as he was dragged, writhing and kicking, into a darkened passageway. Someone removed his boots and belt, and before he knew it, his clothes were being stripped from him, amidst shouts and guffaws of laughter. Expecting to be thrown into the horse trough, or some other such jest, he was completely flummoxed when a door was opened, and he was thrown unceremoniously into a pitch-black chamber.
Before he could find the breath to protest, the door had been pulled shut again, and the key turned in the lock. He staggered upright, throwing himself against the stout oak, cursing loudly.
“Open this door, you cursed knaves. Come back here and face me man to man, you lily-livered cowards. Damn you all to hell!”
“Kit?”
His fist froze midway to the door, then fell to his side. He peered around, trying to pierce the darkness. “Is that you, Alys? God’s teeth!”
Of all the—! Picturing himself turning Rupert inside-out and making a purse of his genitals, he renewed his assault on the door.
“Come back here, you whey-faced poltroons. This is a lady’s chamber. Have you no thought for her reputation?”
“We’ll come back when we’re good and ready,” drawled a male voice from the other side of the door.
“And when you’re prepared to ask nicely.” That sounded like Rupert. Death was too good for such a one. There was more muffled laughter, then the sound of footsteps diminishing down the passageway.
His shoulders slumped. He could try breaking the door down, but he couldn’t see in the dark for anything to attack it with. And he couldn’t light a candle because…
“Alys—what are you doing? Ye gods, no. No light!”
Too late. She was already holding a glowing taper to the candle wick. Seconds later, a faint golden glow illuminated the room. He sobered up in an instant and threw himself to the floor.
“Kit. What in heaven’s name is going on? Why are you lurking down by the foot of my bed?”
“Forgive me—this was none of my doing. Some of my so-called friends decided it would be a merry jest to thrust me in here and lock the door. I admit they are in their cups, but that will not spare them the sharp edge of my sword when I get out of here.”
They must have known exactly what they were doing, which room it was. A conspiracy had been afoot under his very nose, and he’d failed to see it.
He raised himself up a little, so he could see Alys’ face. “I apologize for my curses—that was language unfit for a lady’s ears.”
A snort escaped her. Was that amusement flickering at the corners of her mouth? She obviously cared not one whit for his damaged pride.
“I am grown used to your curses, sir—I’ve heard them often enough. I’m also becoming accustomed to the sight of you unclothed. In some ways, your nakedness is more familiar to me than your court finery.”
He could hardly believe his ears—he’d expected bitter recriminations, or cold, disapproving silence. Even screaming. Instead, she was teasing him.
“Do you mock me, Madam?”
“Nay, of course not. But tell me, are you often the butt of such jests as this one?”
“Certainly not. The perpetrator, occasionally. Such pranks are not uncommon amongst the younger courtiers—I regret you’ve found yourself embroiled in this one. It may be difficult to escape this situation with our reputations intact.”
“I daresay your reputation will be enhanced by it.”
He straightened slightly—having a conversation while crouched on the floor was uncomfortable, and his injured thigh was protesting. If she continued to taunt him, he’d damned well stand up.
“Perhaps it is a reputation I no longer care to have. My wild days are behind me.” He did his best to sound offended.
“No, no, I’m sorry. There is just so much I neither know nor understand about you. Hardly surprising when you have spent the better part of our acquaintance playing a part.”
“It went against my nature. I wanted to reveal my true self to you, yet I dared not give myself away.”
She settled on the edge of her bed. A relief. He could keep his dignity—what remained of it—for now.
“You wanted to talk to me? When?” Her face had definitely brightened. That defeated look he’d seen earlier was quite vanished. His heart sped up.
“Almost since I first saw you, when I first realized how superior you were to the rest, beautiful, clever… yet so repressed. Your cousin did you no favors, Alys, but I’ll say no more. I have no wish to speak ill of the dead.”
“I don’t believe you trusted me then. You thought I was in league with the Spanish and the Scots.”
“I suspected everyone at first. Then I got to know you, and it would have cut me to the marrow to discover you were my enemy. But later, not even that would have stopped me wanting to make you mine.” His voice caught. The truth was spilling out of him, and if she rejected him now that he’d laid his heart before her, it would be unimaginable.
He held her gaze. “We’ve had a very stormy passage, Alys Barchard, and many hurtful words have been spoken. But let us put that behind us now and address our most immediate problem—how to execute my escape.”
She chewed on her lower lip a moment, then looked at him from under her long lashes. “What if I don’t want you to escape?”
Chapter Fifty-Two
Alys felt happier, more alive than she had in days. The sight of Kit, without all the trappings of his high degree, reminded her poignantly of the deep attraction she’d felt for him at Selwood. While he’d been talking, she’d been stealing
