Her fingers sought his. “You will be good to me?” she said in a small voice.
He smiled. “I will never beat you,” he promised.
At that she smiled too, but fleetingly. “Nay, do not jest, do not laugh at me!” she said.
He raised her hands to his lips, and kissed them. “On my soul,” he said, “I’ve only the one ambition left; to care for you.”
She nestled back into his arms. “If we could! If we only could!”
“What, doubting still?” he rallied her. “What do you fear, little faint heart?”
“To lead you to your death,” she said. “How can I not fear it?”
“Nay, nay, ’tis I shall do the leading,” he smiled. “Have faith, O Lady Disdain!”
“Not that!” she protested, but a smile trembled on her lips at the old memories the name conjured up.
His arm was hard about her shoulders. “Do you love me?” he asked, and his eyes compelled an answer from her.
She looked up. “Do you not know that I do—doubter?”
He swooped then, and kissed her almost before she was aware. Holding her close still he asked her with the teasing note in his voice:—“Shall I make an Englishwoman of you after all, my bird?”
She nodded. “Only take me away,” she said. “Take me away from here! Anywhere!”
For a moment he held her closely embraced, cheek to cheek. Then he let her go, brought her to the fire, and made her sit down on the faldstool before it. He stirred the smouldering log with his booted foot, and it fell apart, and the flames sprang up. “Do they seek to wed you to that pretty cousin of yours?” he asked abruptly.
“I hate him!” she said. “I have told my aunt I will never, never wed with him, but she—Nicholas, you do not know her! She smiles, and nods, and agrees with me, but she is like a rock! She frightens me, Nicholas. She is so quiet, and it is like a fate pursuing one! Yes, I am afraid, I!”
“No need,” he said. “Remember I am near you, and take heart. Now how to spirit you away?”
“How did you come?” she asked. “In the Venture—that fishing village?”
“Nay, over the border, openly, with letters to King Philip,” he replied.
She gasped. “Are you a wizard, then? Tell me, how?”
“Very simply, child. My luck, no more. I fell in with a secret envoy to the King, and him I slew perforce, and came on in his place. But to get you to the coast is the problem now. It is a-many weary leagues, and the hunt will be up then in right earnest. Barful, barful!”
She sat straight on the faldstool. “Nay, but listen, Señor Nicholas! We leave Madrid soon now—I do not know when, but soon. Doña Beatrice told me so tonight, and hoped I might like Diego better in the country than I do here. We go north, to Vasconosa, near Burgos. I do not know when, but Doña Beatrice would wish it to be soon.”
“God ’ild her, then! What keeps her?”
“Diego, I think. Oh no, she does not care for him, but of what use to take me into the country if he be not by? And he hath engagements still, and will not go till they are done.”
“Fiend seize the princox!” Beauvallet said. “North of Burgos? It will serve, it will serve.”
She looked eagerly up at him. “It is not more than a day and a night from the coast, but they will watch me close. Can you do it, Nicholas?”
“Surely, surely, sweetheart. Have no fear. The Venture will lie off that port you wot of, and if the luck holds we may make it safely.” He went to the window, and drew back the curtain a little way. “It is growing light, child. I must be gone.” He came back to her, and took her hands. “Leave me to find a way, chuck. Only let me have a sight of you, and a word with you at need. I lie at the Rising Sun if you should want me, and Joshua is with me to bear a message. I have been about this town a little, but in no house do I meet you. You lie close, love.”
“I would not go out. That’s over now. I shall go with my aunt to Don Alonso de Alepero’s house on Monday. Will you be there?”
“I can arrange it,” he said. “Expect to see me in this house as soon as may be. This aunt of yours seems to have a fondness for me.” He bent, and kissed her hands. “Now fare thee well, my heart, and fear naught.”
“Only for you,” she said.
“Fear for me when you hear of my death,” he smiled. “Not till then.” He held her close a moment. “Keep Diego at arm’s length, my lass,” he said, twinkling, “or I might be tempted to out sword and thrust him there.”
“Oh, you must be prudent!” she said urgently. “Promise me! He hates you already; he said tonight almost as much.”
“God save his puppyhood!” said Sir Nicholas lightly. “Am I to be in a sweat for fear of Master Puke-Stocking? We shall come to grips yet, he and I. I can snuff out a fight with the best. He’s hot for it.” He bent to kiss her lips. “A last good night!”
She gave it, clinging to him. “You must go—yes, you must go. Oh, my love, I love you!”
XIII
It was not perhaps surprising that in so short a time the gay Chevalier de Guise made some noise about the town. He had the trick of it. To be secret, to lie close, seemed to be no part of his design. His credentials were good, Losa’s patronage carried him whithersoever he listed, and he used it to the full. There was scarcely anyone in Madrid who had not heard of the Chevalier, few who had not met him. From the Court came no sign. Philip must
