by Trish Morey
Rob gave a humourless laugh. ‘Do you truly not know, fairest Anna?’
‘I know you have enemies, but why another actor? You provide their livelihood with your plays.’
‘I think Ennis prizes something more than a fine part in one of my plays. Ouch!’ he growled. ‘I think Ennis has seen how I look at you and he is jealous.’
Anna gave one last prod at the wound before she bound a strip of clean linen around his head as a bandage. She feared she did know what he meant—Henry had conceived some foolish passion for her, or rather for some imaginary lady he thought her to be. But she didn’t want to think of Henry and where his feelings had led him. She had other things to worry about.
Such as her own feelings for the man who sat before her now. She felt even more foolish than Henry. If he had noticed, surely others would, as well. She had to be careful.
‘Just keep your quarrels out of the playhouse,’ she said sternly.
‘I will do my best—for you, Anna. But I don’t control what some other hothead might do.’
‘Henry will have to learn to behave himself, as well.’ She sat down beside Robert on the chest and kissed him quickly. His lips parted in surprise beneath hers and he reached out for her, catching her around the waist to pull her closer to him.
‘I won’t always be there to mend your wounds, Robert,’ she said. ‘Promise me you will take care from now on. Try not to dash headlong into trouble.’ She tried to keep her voice brisk and impersonal, concealing her concern even as she knew it was too late.
Rob gently kissed her temple, the wave of hair over her brow, and smoothed it back from her face. ‘I fear trouble has a tendency to seek me out wherever I go.’
‘And you never seek it out, I suppose?’ she asked wryly.
‘Perhaps when I was younger trouble had a certain appeal. But I find I grow older and wiser with each day that passes.’
If only that was true, Anna thought, for both of them. But wisdom felt so far, far away.
‘You should leave London for a time,’ she said. ‘Go away to somewhere quiet where you can write.’
‘I have recently been invited to a country house by Lord Edward Hartley.’
‘Hartley?’ Anna knew him—or at least knew of him. He was one of Queen Elizabeth’s favourite courtiers, a man of good-looks and fashion, as well as a man of culture and sport. He sponsored poets and musicians, and often took the most expensive box at the White Heron for a play, bringing a party of friends with him. Surely at his house Rob could work and be safe from harm—at least for a time.
But while he was gone she would not see him. How grey would the days be then? How would she go back to her old ways once he was gone?
‘You should go there,’ she said, pushing away that sad pang she did not want to feel. ‘The country air will be good for you.’
‘And mayhap for you, Anna?’
‘Me?’
Rob tightened his caressing hold on her waist and gave her a cajoling smile. ‘Come with me to the country. We’ll stroll the green sylvan lanes, lie by the river, dance under the stars, be as the shepherd and his shepherdess …’
Anna laughed and tried to push him away, even as she was tempted. To be somewhere quiet and peaceful, with Robert, away from the troubles and stink of London—it sounded like a dream.
An impossible dream. A wild player like Robert was not for the grey likes of her. She had always known that.
‘I have work to do,’ she said carefully.
‘It can wait for a few days. Please, Anna, come with me to the country. You will give me inspiration for my work there, and meet my friends.’
‘I have nothing to wear at a grand house,’ she said, her protests growing weaker. ‘I only have grey, remember?’
Rob reached for one of the costumes and held it up—a handful of purple velvet and glossy satin ribbons. ‘We can borrow these. Stage costumes are as fine as anything seen in a palace.’
‘Aye, and as expensive, too!’ Costumes were the greatest expense of any company of players—the audience didn’t want to see kings and queens on stage clad in trumpery rags. She knew their price because she mended and laundered them herself.
But if she was careful, and took only what was not needed for the current productions, it should be well enough. She gently touched the velvet skirt and imagined wearing it as she strolled by a bright country stream on Rob’s arm. London, her father, Walsingham—all of it far away. Surely she could be someone else for just a few days? See what centre stage felt like, just once? If she could summon enough courage.
‘Well,’ she said. ‘I suppose someone should keep a watch on you, Robert Alden, and make certain you do finish this play and stay away from fights.’
‘Then you will come with me?’
‘I will. But only for a few days.’
Rob laughed and kissed her again—a hard, hot kiss full of promise. ‘You will not be sorry, Anna. I swear that to you.’
Anna wrapped her arms around his neck and held him close. Nay, she would not be sorry. Not this time.
Not yet.
CHAPTER TEN
ROBERT stared across the small garden at the country cottage, his gaze narrowed. It all looked so peaceful—half-closed shutters blocking out the bright day, flowers tangling over the gate. Calm and quiet and ordinary. Far from the bustle of London.
Why, then, couldn’t he bring himself to go inside? Why did the sight of it fill him with the hollowness of guilt?
Because he was guilty, of course. He knew that all too well. It lived with him day and night, drove him onward.
As he stared at the whitewashed walls he felt almost as he had in those days when his brawling had landed him briefly in gaol. The sky lowering over him, dark and oppressive. The terrible, sick knowledge he had failed those he loved.
That was when Walsingham had found him, dragged him from the cell and offered him a task. Given him a purpose again—a way to atone at last. But the walls still pressed in on him. They were built around his own soul.
Rob pushed open the gate and stepped into the garden. It gave a low, rusty squeak and sent a flock of birds soaring from the tree by the door. They flew into the sky, but he was still bound to the earth.
He knocked on the door and it swung open, to reveal a small, plump older woman in a stained apron. The sight of her round, reddened face calmed him. She was always the same, never changing since she had been his nurse when he was an unruly child, and she could control him with a quick swat and a kiss on the cheek.
‘Hello, Nelly,’ he said.
A smile lit her weathered face and she clapped her hands together. ‘Master Robert! We weren’t expecting you until later this month. London is a fair journey.’
‘Not so long when you are at the end of it.’ And when he had something he had to do. Rob stepped into the dim coolness of the hall and swept off his cap before he leaned down to kiss Nelly’s brow. ‘How are you, Nelly?’
‘Oh, I’m well enough, as always.’ Nelly shut the door and glanced over his shoulder at the silent depths of the house. ‘Is aught amiss with you?’
Everything was amiss, he thought wryly. Anna Barrett had thrown everything into tumult. That was why he was here today—because everything was changing. He had to protect everyone.
‘Why do you ask?’ he said.
‘Because we usually don’t see you here when the theatres are still open.’ She reached up to pat his cheek with a plump, roughened hand. ‘You work much too hard, Master Robert.’
‘Only to keep you in luxury, Nelly dearest,’ he teased.
‘Such a rogue,’ she said with a laugh. ‘You always were, even as a small lad.’
‘So I haven’t changed?’ He felt like an entirely different person now, no longer the careless youth who had rambled across the countryside.
‘Oh, you’ve changed.’ Nelly shook her head sadly. ‘When you were a boy you were always so light-hearted, laughing and running off on a lark with Lord Edward. Now you’re so …
’
‘So what?’
She gently patted his cheek again. ‘There’s such a hardness in your eyes now. You never laugh much any more.’
Rob crossed his arms over his chest. ‘There is little enough to laugh about—am I not right, Nelly?’ That was why he had come here today, why he did what he did every day. The careless boy who had worn his heart on his sleeve was long gone. He had to be cold now.
‘How go things today?’ he asked, gesturing towards the rooms at the back of the house.
A frown creased Nelly’s ruddy cheeks. ‘Quiet enough. But there’ve been some sleepless nights of late.’
‘Nightmares?’ He had so hoped those would vanish in the quiet of the country.
Nelly nodded. ‘They went away for the longest time. Now they seem to have returned.’
What new fear could have brought them back, when there had been peace for so long? Rob’s jaw tightened. ‘Is it safe to go back there, then?’
‘It might do some good. She almost seemed to know you last time.’
Almost.
Nelly turned and led him down a narrow corridor to a small sitting room at the back of the house that overlooked the last bit of garden and the lane beyond. A fire crackled in the grate and the windows were half-open, making the space cosy but open.
At first Rob didn’t see her. A half-finished tapestry was stretched on a frame by the window, where she usually worked, and there was the usual clutter of workboxes and threads. But she wasn’t sitting there.
He found her standing by the fire, staring down into the flames with a pensive half smile on her face. A bright wool shawl was wrapped around her shoulders and her dark hair fell down her back in loose waves. She looked so much like his sister of vanished years—the shy, sweet Mary who had followed along behind him, eager for the attention of her older brother.
The brother who was meant to be her protector and who had failed her.
Then she turned, and the smile vanished. Her blue eyes went blank as ice, and he saw the scars on her left cheek. The stark reminder of her ruined life, of how he had to help her now.
‘Now, see, Mary love, your brother has come to see you,’ Nelly said in her hearty, cheerful voice. She put her arm around Mary’s thin shoulders and led her to the chair by the window. ‘Isn’t that lovely?’
Mary watched Rob carefully, warily, with no hint of recognition. She hadn’t really known him in years. To her, he was only a man, and thus an enemy to be feared.
But the manners Nelly had instilled in them both as children were still strong. She gave him a little nod and said, ‘How do you do?’
Rob stepped closer slowly, carefully, and took out a packet from inside his cloak. ‘I brought you some thread from London, Mary. Nelly said you required some green silk for a forest scene you are creating.’
‘For me?’ Mary stared at the packet as if it would bite her. Nelly always opened the packets for her when he was safely gone. ‘Why would you bring gifts for me?’
‘Because …’ Against his judgement, Rob took a step closer to her. He knew he had to keep his distance, to be very careful, but sometimes his love for his sister was too strong for his caution. Her fear was too painful. ‘Because I want you to be happy, Mary. I care about you.’
Some of his pain must have shown, because Mary suddenly shrank back against Nelly with a hoarse sob. ‘But I don’t even know you! Who are you?’
‘Mistress Mary—’ Nelly began, but Mary cut her off with a cry, shaking her head wildly.
‘Who is he?’ Mary cried. ‘Why is here? Has he come to take me away?’
‘Never, Mary,’ Rob said, his heart aching. She only cried louder.
Nelly caught his eye over Mary’s head and gave him a little nod, gesturing toward the door. Even though it went against all his instincts to leave without comforting Mary, he knew Nelly was right. Only his absence would soothe her now.
He spun round and left the sitting room. Once out in the corridor, he slapped his hands against the wall and closed his eyes against the anger and the pain. The raw, burning fury at the men who had done this to Mary. And at himself.
But he could still hear her sobs.
He had not been able to take care of her then. He would now. No matter what he had to do.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
‘YOU do have fine friends, Rob,’ Anna said with a laugh as their carriage flew past the outskirts of London’s looming buildings and burst out into the wide lanes of the countryside. It was a luxurious conveyance, painted red and black and upholstered in soft velvet cushions. Footmen and outriders in the Hartley livery guarded against highwaymen and vagabonds.
As Anna ran her palm over the lush fabric and rested her feet on the little gilded stool below, Rob sprawled out on the seat next to her. He seemed to match the rich carriage in his fine gold-button-trimmed velvet doublet with the pearl drop in his ear. Gold rings flashed as he reached for her hand.
‘Nothing but the best for you, my lady,’ he said, and kissed her wrist before twining his fingers with hers. ‘You should be carried thus every day, your feet never touching the ground.’
Anna laughed and squeezed his hand. ‘I would never get anywhere in London in such a carriage—it would be much too slow. But it is lovely. It’s like flying out here.’
She peered out of the window to see the country flashing by, a blur of green and brown as they passed hedgerows and towering trees, grey stone walls, a few cottages glimpsed in the distance and then gone. The wheels bounced along the rutted road, dry and dusty from lack of rain, and she could hear the whistle of the wind past the doors.
‘I can’t believe I have run away like this,’ she said, feeling her heart beat faster, her spirit rising at this change of scene—and at the man who sat beside her, holding her hand. It felt as if she hadn’t just run away from London, from her everyday work and duties, but run to Robert. To something she didn’t yet understand and couldn’t put into words, not being a poet like he was—but she knew she needed whatever it was. A deep, secret longing to be free. And it was Rob who made her feel this way, made her feel able to face the world and be bold once again.
She spun towards him on the wide cushioned seat and looped her arms around his neck. He gave her a wide, white grin and reached for her waist to draw her even closer.
He seemed free here, too, as if just leaving London’s walls had lifted a heavy chain from his soul. They could leave all else behind, at least for the short time they were alone here in the carriage, and just be Rob and Anna.
‘I wish I could keep you away for always,’ he said, lowering the leather shade of the curtain to close them in darkness.
‘Always?’
‘Well, at least for a year or two. Or five.’
‘And where would we stay for five years?’ she said, revelling in his smile, his touch. She resolutely pushed away all traces of fear. Today she would be brave. She would enjoy life, enjoy the moment.
‘In an enchanted castle, of course. An ancient stone fortress covered in flowering vines and hidden from the world.’
‘It sounds chilly.’
‘Ah, but you forget—it’s an enchanted castle, with magical hearths that light into warm fires the instant a chill creeps in. Ghostly servants bring wine and delicacies for the table, and jewels and gossamer silks appear for you to wear. There is sweet, dulcet music and perfumed oils, and long marble halls for you to dance in.’
‘Dance alone?’
‘Never! I will always be there to partner you, whenever you have the whim to dance.’
‘I’m glad to hear it.’ Anna tangled her fingertips in the waves of his hair that fell over the collar of his doublet. It was soft and rough all at the same time, twisting around her. ‘We’ll be alone in this castle?’
‘Until you tire of it and flee from me.’
Anna feared she would never tire of him. There were always new facets of him to discover, new secrets to learn. Would she ever break free of this fascination with him?
‘I couldn’t tire of a place where my food is prepared and fresh clothes appear whenever I want them,’ she said. ‘No darning, no rent collecting …’
‘Nothing but dancing with me.’
‘I could bear that well enough. For a time.’
‘Then I would have to see to it that you never grow weary of our time together,’ he said softly, and kissed the curve of her cheek, the side of her neck. ‘I would make you my prisoner for all time.’
Anna laughed, and her eyes fluttered closed as the warmth of his kisses flooded into her. Her head fell back as he nudged aside the high edge of her jacket and pressed his mouth to the delicate hollow of her throat.
‘I fear you would be the one bored by our little castle,’ she whispered. ‘No admiring audience for your plays, no applause …’
‘You’re the only admiring audience I need, fairest Anna. I would write my poetry only for you.’
His mouth met hers, rough and hungry, as if he was starved for the taste of her. Her lips parted to let him in, their tongues touching, claiming each other and the passion they had held back for too long. Her hands tightened in his hair, holding him with her.
Through the blurry haze of their kiss she felt his touch at the fastenings of her jacket. He tugged them free and she let him push the fabric away from her shoulders. The warm air swept over her through her thin chemise, the confines of her stays, and then his body was against hers.
He pressed her down to the seat, her back to the soft velvet, and eased the chemise out of his way so he could press his hot, open-mouthed kiss to her shoulder, the soft curve of her breast. Her heart pounded and she could only hear the rush of its beating in her ears, the rough sound of his breath. They were all alone in their enchanted world, just as he had said. There was only him and her, their bodies coming together, the exquisite, forgetful pleasure.
‘Rob,’ she gasped as he tugged down the edge of her stays and freed her breast to his avid gaze. The tip of his tongue traced around the pink, puckered aureole and lower, to the soft, sensitive spot just beneath.