Lord of Deception, стр. 16
He continued staring at the ground, waiting for her to spur her horse onward.
“I no longer wish you to leave.” She bent down in the saddle, bringing her head closer to his. “I’m a grown woman, after all, not easily offended by a trifle.”
His mind blanked, his eyes feasting on the silken swell of her breasts above her bodice, and the delicate tapering of her waist. Then he realized she’d referred to his kiss as a “trifle”.
Coloring, he bowed again. “You are very forgiving, my lady, but I must go.” But one day, they’d meet again, and she’d learn what it was to be kissed properly. Then he looked past her and discovered she was alone. Had she come after him on purpose, to make amends?
“Whither are you bound? Why is there no groom to attend you?”
She eased back, sitting stiffly in her saddle. “I’ve been sent to market to buy ribbons for my cousin. No one could be spared to attend me.”
“It is not fitting that you ride about the highways with none to protect you. What can your cousin be thinking of?”
“It is always thus. I have never come to harm. I know many of the people in town, and I’ll not travel after dark.” She tilted her head to one side. “I wonder that you, a mere servant, dare criticize my cousin’s behavior. What does a gardener know of how the gentry should behave?”
“Forgive me. I spoke out of turn.” Why did he find it so hard to play the role of underling with this woman?
“The answer to my question is that you are no gardener.”
His heart dropped like a stone, but he hid his alarm. “Of course, I’m a gardener—what else could I be?” He spread his hands, palms upward, and shrugged.
She tutted. “No. You do the work of a gardener, but I know you to be a gentleman. What tale have you to tell?”
He grasped her bridle and brought his head closer to hers. “These are heavy accusations, Mistress Barchard. I must hear your reasons so I can refute them, but not on the public highway. It would demean you to be seen arguing with an inferior here.” His hand went to his hat, where the dispatch was hidden, to reassure himself she hadn’t seen through that ploy as well.
“So, you think to dispute my assertions?”
“Of course, I do. As soon as we’re somewhere private, I’ll defend myself.”
She raised an eyebrow. “I look forward to that.”
Sloping his shoulders, doing his best to look deferential, Kit began walking the horse forward. “Have you voiced your thoughts to anyone else?”
“Nay. That would be unfair, when I have not yet heard your explanation.”
Fair. And clever. He should be grateful for her forbearance. “Thank you, my lady.” He turned his back to her, cutting off any further chance of conversation, giving him time to think. He needed to deal with her suspicions, but he also had his dispatch to deliver. How was he to do it without her knowledge? She had yet to fully earn his trust.
Eventually, the uncomfortable silence was broken by the lively sounds of the market at Cheyneham. The general hubbub of human voices was interspersed with snatches of music and song, the shouts of peddlers, and the varied hoots, moos and hisses of livestock. Part of the village green had disappeared beneath a fortress of hurdles, penning up the animals for sale. Opposite these were the stalls of the traders, some of them bright with color, others rustic in their simplicity. Local people stood behind tables groaning with honey jars, ale barrels, the hard local cheeses and seasonal fruits. The more exotic wares occupied silken pavilions where well-dressed merchants cried their Eastern fabrics, island spices and expensive perfumed oils.
Kit reached up to lift Alys down, deliberately holding her away from his body.
Immediately, an urchin came running to care for the horse.
He looked the boy up and down, then felt in his purse. “Here’s a groat to feed and water the mare, and there’s another waiting for you when you return her to us unharmed.”
“Aye, sir. I shall not stir from her side.”
Kit doffed his high-crowned felt hat as he turned to Alys. “Do you wish for refreshment, or shall we have our discussion straightway?”
“Oh, I’ll brook no delay. But I know not where we can be private in such a throng.”
He knew exactly where they could go. Risky, but necessary. “If you would care to follow me, my lady.”
Chapter Fifteen
Alys allowed her companion to lead her through the crowd to a series of small pavilions. He strode right up to a gap-toothed old woman wearing the most fantastic motley of clothes, who was seated next to a sign proclaiming her skills as a wise woman and fortune teller.
He handed the crone a coin. “God give you good day, Goodwife Tyler. This for the private use of your tent.”
The woman nodded and grinned, displaying the black hole of her mouth. She seized the coin and vanished into the crowd with surprising speed. Kit held aside the tent flap, and Alys ducked inside.
The splendid peculiarity of the room caused her to stare around, open-mouthed, before accepting a seat beside the heavily draped table. An expensive-looking bowl filled with water reflected the subdued sunlight filtering through the white canvas walls. All kinds of occult paraphernalia littered the room, from unrecognizable dried animals dangling suspended over her head, to outlandish rocks, feathers and plants. Strange symbols had been painted on the inside of the pavilion, intermixed with suns, moons, and the beasts of the zodiac. A pack of cards was strewn across the table, strangely illustrated.
Kit seated himself in what must normally be the wise woman’s place, draped as it was with rich