“Aye?”
“I don’t like being ordered around.”
That much was obvious, he agreed silently. “And I, Miss Locksley, am not accustomed to my every word being challenged.”
“Disappointing,” she said, looking him over. “I thought you could meet the challenge. I was wrong.”
Damn it, he would not chase her. He would not! He’d lain awake all night promising himself that he would step back from Miss Locksley. Now, was the hardest temptation so far. She’d sparked his blood and he had to walk away. Why, after he had trained himself not to be distracted by women, not while there were battles to be fought, did this oddling capture his thoughts?
Was she putting him under her spell? It certainly felt as if she were. He’d known after hours of contemplation last night what he had to do. She was too volatile. Hadn’t she just proven it? Shouting at him for all to hear?
Why did it amuse him? Why did he think her the bravest soul he knew?
She was dangerous. Aye. He had to detach himself from her. If that meant staying away from her, that is what he would do. He wouldn’t throw her out. He was no heartless savage. Despite what was whispered about him by campfires at night, he was only a savage when he needed to be.
He reached the stable, saddled his mount, and rode out of the gate.
He was glad his mood had changed—thanks to her. He did have things to see to in the large town a mile away. Nothing pressing, but it was better than being here all day with her.
He remembered how she tore off half her clothes and it still brought a smile to his lips. She didn’t care what others thought. She did what needed to be done and seared his blood in his veins while doing it.
He’d had to leave the hall before he made Adele a widow. He hadn’t wanted to leave Miss Locksley there with Reg. He hoped she realized now that he’d tried to stop her from speaking to Reg because the man was a snake. Before long, Reg would have her telling him her bizarre story.
He rode to the town and hoped no one recognized him. He’d made certain to wear his trousers and worn woolen léine. He left his sword at home but was armed with knives in his boots.
He wasn’t sure why he’d agreed to meet Thomas Walley, Earl of Malton. Nicholas had tried on several occasions to stop former Yorkists from giving their support over to the Lancaster side. But more and more Yorkists were switching. All because Richard was untrustworthy. Even when it came to his wife Anne’s death last March, many believed Richard poisoned her so that he could marry his niece, Elizabeth of York, Edward’s daughter.
Nicholas hated him for losing so many supporters, but he hated him most of all for what he’d done to Edward’s sons.
King Edward IV had made his brother, Richard, the then Duke of Gloucester, Lord Protector of his two sons, the eldest being heir to the English throne. He wanted to declare Nicholas their protector, but he needed Nicholas on the battlefield winning his wars. Upon Edward’s death almost two years ago, his twelve-year-old successor, Edward V along with the boy’s younger brother, Richard, were lodged in the Tower of London to prepare for the boy’s coronation.
Nicholas had gone to see them. He’d had a day off from the fighting and spent it with them. Young Edward had been anxious, but what boy of his age about to be crowned king of England wouldn’t be? They’d laughed and practiced their swordplay with him. They spoke about their father and their futures. Nicholas loved them as brothers. He never expected such wretched betrayal from their protector.
Before the king could be crowned, the marriage of his parents was declared bigamous and therein invalid. The man who led these false charges? Richard. The children were declared illegitimate and banned from inheriting the throne. Richard III became king four months later. The worst part was the boys disappeared from the Tower the same day and were never seen again. The rebellions began soon after that and still continued. Richard had lost many of Edward’s staunchest supporters including Nicholas.
Nicholas suspected Richard of killing the boys and it was driving him mad.
He fought for the House of York with the hope that the boys would be found alive. But his forbearance toward Richard was fading. Almost gone.
He entered the town and dismounted in front of a small tavern. He had a look around at the dimly lit interior. No one looked up from their drinks to see him—save for one man.
Nicholas went to him. “Malton.”
“Scarborough.”
Nicholas sat on the bench opposite the visiting earl. “You do not have much time. What is it you wished to speak with me about?”
Malton began to sweat a little and pulled at his collar. In the soft candlelight, he appeared wary, even afraid.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” Nicholas assured him.
“Even if what I speak is treasonous?”
What could he say? He wasn’t ready to turn sides just yet. Richard was the last male York. If this Henry Tudor, to whom the Lancasters gave their support, took the throne, what would become of the Plantagenet dynasty?
“You may speak freely,” Nicholas promised.
“We have the support of many,” Malton told him.
No matter how bad Richard was, the thought of betraying York sickened Nicholas. “And what are you prepared to do with all this support?”
Malton blinked his dark blue eyes. “Join us, Scarborough. We need you.”
“I’m not prepared to do that,” Nicholas let him know.
“Then you will fight against us.”
Nicholas didn’t want to fight them, but he couldn’t help the tilt of one end of his mouth curling into dark grin. “That is more of a threat to you about me, than the other way around.”
“Aye,” Malton agreed with a rueful sigh. “We all know of your great skill and cunning. But you fought proudly for Edward. Things have changed. Richard is—”
“Careful,” Nicholas warned softly.
“I
