by Julia Latham
“My thanks,” Philip said, taking back the League coin.
He took Anne’s arm and led her out of the shop. After retrieving the reins of their horses from the bowing, soot-covered boy, Philip tossed him another coin before helping Anne to mount.
“So where did you tell them we could be reached?” she asked, as she guided her horse slowly through the crowds back the way they’d come.
“An inn near the docks by the Tower. I’ve stayed there before. ’Tis mostly frequented by sailors and the like.”
As they traveled east along the Thames, Anne could see great cranes lifting cargo from sailing ships. The smells of fish and tar mingled—yet, still, the occasional purity of a white swan swimming peacefully on the river spoke of beauty. When they arrived at the inn, Philip requested a chamber on the northern side of the inn, facing away from the river and its stench.
Their chamber was small; besides a bed, there was only a small table and two stools where they ate a hasty supper in the growing darkness. She watched him above the single candle that lit the table between them, and knew that he watched her.
“How long do you think it will be before we hear something?” she asked, as he set the tray out in the corridor.
After he closed the door, he turned and just looked at her. The tension between them was suddenly palpable, as if the air in the room were too heavy to breathe.
Philip didn’t come closer, and his voice was husky as he said, “I would imagine morning would be the earliest. People aren’t encouraged to be on the streets late at night.”
“Oh.” She watched him, feeling her bones melt at the thought of the passionate hours they’d spent together in a bed. She wanted him desperately, needed him to help her forget what lay in store for her. But surely their situation was too dangerous to allow themselves to be distracted. “How are you feeling? Although Stephen told me you would not die, I feared that he was lying, or that he’d sent someone back to kill you.”
“You saw the worst of it,” he said.
She nodded, but could think of nothing else to say. She watched him with longing, feeling so overheated that she wanted to strip the clothes from herself. That would be subtle.
When a knock sounded at the door, they both gave a start.
“It cannot be the League already,” she said.
He shook his head and turned to the door. “Who is it?”
“The valet, sir, with your bathing tub.”
She stared at him.
Philip arched a brow at her and smiled as he swung open the door. Several young pages carried in the tub, and others followed with buckets of hot water. Within ten minutes, they were alone.
Anne dipped her fingers in the water and sighed. “’Twas a thoughtful deed, Philip—unless you’re saying that my scent could use improving.”
He grinned. “After your ordeal in the dungeon, I thought you would appreciate a luxury.”
She gave in to the inevitable. “Oh, I do. Could you unlace me?”
She saw his eyes darken, but all he did was nod. She presented her back. As the gown separated, she pulled it away, and suddenly he was helping it over her head. She loosened the laces of her smock, and pulled that off as well. Behind her, she could hear him breathing deeply.
She took a breath and turned to face him. While his gaze moved down her body, lingering at her breasts, she lifted her arms and began to pull the pins from her hair. One by one her long curls fell down.
Still, he said nothing, only watched. She moved around him to the bathing tub, making sure linen cloths and soft soap were placed where she could reach them. Then she lifted her leg and stepped in. She sank down with a sigh, even though the water only reached her waist.
Philip pulled up a stool to watch, as if she were an actor in a company of players. She didn’t mind, because being on display for him made her feel beautiful.
“Now if you were Lady Rosamond,” he said in a low voice, “you would have the luxury of a larger tub and more water.”
“This will certainly do.”
After wetting a cloth, she applied soap and began to rub it leisurely on her arms. She watched him watch her, as she next washed her neck and then down to her breasts. Touching herself was almost as pleasurable as when he touched her. She lifted each leg out of the water to wash it, and then splashed him with her toes. His smile was almost a grimace.
When she washed between her legs, she almost lingered, but felt too self-conscious yet for that. At last she leaned back to wet her hair, then put soap onto her hands.
He suddenly rose to his feet. She was stunned when he took her hands between his and rubbed the soap from them, then massaged slow, gentle circles in her hair.
She closed her eyes and let her cares drift away in pleasure. “This is simply wonderful.”
“I do have my uses.”
Her body became limp with relaxation, and her head felt like it would tip backward under his ministrations. He cradled her, caressed her, all under the guise of washing her hair, and she could not have been more touched and pleased. She loved this man for how gently he treated her.
“Time to stand up,” he said in a hoarse voice.
She almost couldn’t, so heavy were her limbs. When she was upright, Philip poured a bucket of hot water over her head, so that the soap sluiced away, leaving her clean. When she reached for the linen cloth, he pushed her hands away and unfolded it himself. He wrapped her in it, patting her skin. She arched like a cat under his touch, but at last she was dry, and there was nothing left for him to do.
He lifted her into his arms and put her into bed. Sleepily, she reached for him, but he backed away.
“You are not the only one who would like to bathe.”
“In the water I already used?”
“You were not that dirty.”
“Will it not be cold soon?”
“Good.”
She didn’t understand his response, but she forgot as she came up on her elbows to watch him undress. To her embarrassment, she suddenly yawned.
He smiled. “You are already bored by my nakedness?”
“Oh, nay, Philip!” she said. “I did not sleep last night, and now that I’m warm”—she huddled within the covers gratefully—“I cannot seem to keep my eyes open.”
“Then sleep,” he murmured, leaning over to tuck the coverlet beneath her chin.
She would not sleep, not when she had him to herself. She watched him from beneath lowered lids. When his clothing was gone, she enjoyed the way the candlelight played on his skin, creating hollows of shadow in the curves of his muscle.
Philip washed quickly, feeling vulnerable without his garments and weapon at hand. He glanced at Anne, and she continued to blink drowsily, her lips curved in a gentle smile.
She was so tempting. He kept thinking of a dozen reasons why he could take her tonight, but in the end, he had a deep need to keep her safe. And that meant he had to remain on guard. He didn’t think they’d been followed from Bramfield Hall, but he could not be certain. And if there were a traitor within the League, the message he sent could be intercepted and used against him.
After he was done washing, he dressed again and went to stand over Anne. She reached for him, and after making sure his sword was near at hand, he lay down on top of the coverlet at her side. She rolled against him, caressing him with her hands, lifting her mouth for his kiss.
Though it was the hardest thing he’d ever done, he kissed her forehead. “Sleep,” he murmured.
Her face scrunched up in a sweet frown, but the expression relaxed as almost instantly she fell asleep. He smoothed back the hair from her face, and contemplated the softness in his heart for her.
Was this love? This ache when he worried that she was harmed, this tenderness he felt when she slept in his arms? It was not about lust or passion, it was all about…Anne.
More and more it seemed that his dreams of a noble life and higher status at court seemed shallow. Had it only seemed important to him because of
what his mother wanted? Wouldn’t his mother want his happiness above all else? Perhaps he had been foolishly equating Anne with his past, because he had come from the same background. It was time to start finding out what would make him happy.
But for now, keeping her safe was all he should think of. He couldn’t sleep, worried that someone might try to break in.
Several hours later, she stirred in his arms and opened her eyes. She stared at him in confusion for a moment, and then lifted her hand to touch his face.
“You have not slept,” she whispered.
He shrugged.
“Philip, you need your rest. We’ll hear if someone comes. You need to be strong enough to face them.”
He put his head down on his arm and just looked into her face, there beside him on the pillow. “I would not be able to forgive myself if something happened to you.”
“It won’t. Now sleep.”
She put her arm around him, and he drifted off.
Before dawn had lightened the sky, Anne felt herself being shaken awake. She opened her eyes to see Philip leaning over her, his weight a heavy warmth that pulled her to him.
“Good morning,” she murmured, smiling.
He smiled back. “A good morning to you.”
He leaned down and kissed her, but it was all too brief.
“Up with you,” he said, patting her rump when she tried to squirm deeper into the bed. “We could have visitors.”
She had no choice but to don the same simple gown that Margaret had given her. That made her think of her friend with a pang of worry.
“My escape must surely have been discovered by now,” she said as Philip laced up her gown. “Do you think Margaret is all right?”
“Why would they harm her? I think they would be more concerned about coming to London and finding Lady Rosamond. After all, Bramfield must appear before the king with the other nobles. He cannot refuse without looking guilty.”
“What if this traitor within the League reaches her before we do?”
“She is surely well guarded. All we can do is hope. Obviously these men have not wished to kill women if they didn’t have to. After all, Bramfield assigned a man to watch each lady. If he was inclined, he could have had them all killed, by many different means that would not draw suspicion on himself. Even our Bladesmen believed that Lady Staplehill’s death wasn’t suspicious.”
“Will you tell our Bladesmen what we suspect about a corrupt member of the League?”
Philip hesitated. “I do not think we should risk it if we don’t need to. How do we know if they have received corrupted orders? We’ll bide our time and make a decision.”
“At the last moment?” she said, smiling faintly.
“If we have no other choice.”
A knock on the door startled Anne, but Philip looked calm, and even relieved. The sky had only just begun to lighten, so he lifted a candleholder. He motioned for her to move toward the corner of the room. As she did so, he drew his sword.
“Who is it?” Philip said at the door.
“David.”
Philip and Anne exchanged a glance, and then he opened the door a crack, holding the sword where it could be seen.
“Are you alone?” Philip asked.
“Aye. I received your message.”
“And told no one, as I requested?”
“No one.”
Philip stepped back to allow him entrance, then checked the corridor before closing the door.
Anne saw the relief on David’s face when he saw her.
“My lady,” he said, “Philip’s missive told of your rescue. Glad I am that he was able to accomplish it.”
“With no help from you,” Philip said coldly.
David, so tall and usually so impassive, bowed his head as he said, “Aye, ’tis true. My lady, there are things I cannot say, but it grieved us all to have to leave you.”
Things he couldn’t say, Anne thought, exchanging a glance with Philip.
“I know it did, David,” she said, “but please, I am not your lady. I am only Anne once again. Is Lady Rosamond still safe?”
“Aye, she is, and in our safekeeping.”
Anne’s relief weakened her.
“Has she gone to the king yet?” Philip asked.
“We were going to yesterday, but then she refused, and she would not say why. And we have no time left, for tonight the noblemen are gathering at Westminster Palace.”
Could someone have coerced Lady Rosamond already? she thought worriedly.
“Perhaps she is frightened,” Anne said.
“How could that be? She traveled all the way here in secret, never once losing her courage, or so I am told. It is almost finished—and yet she holds back.” David shook his head. “It is something else.”
“Could I speak with her?” Anne asked, hoping this was what Philip wanted her to do. “She knows me from our years at Alderley.”
“I hesitate to ask your assistance yet again, mistress,” David said.
“You may ask it. Until Lord Bramfield and his fellow traitors are caught, no one in the entire realm is safe.”
Chapter 22
A t sunrise, Anne and the two men rode through London, taking many different streets to ensure that they weren’t being followed. Peddlers shouted their wares for the housewife: milk from the countryside, wood to heat one’s house, and oysters harvested from the ocean.
The house that David escorted them to looked like any other home of a well-to-do merchant off the Strand, made of half-timber and whitewashed plaster, and standing three stories tall. Anne was led within the front gates to a small flowering courtyard. Two men stood guard outside the door, and after David introduced them, they were allowed inside. Another two guards waited in the front hall. How could they even begin to trust all these Bladesmen?
The man in charge, with a heavy beard that partially hid an old scar, eyed David coldly. “I do not care how these people have helped us—I want the man’s sword.”
“I am here to protect what you guard within,” Philip said impassively. “You want to deny me that ability?”
“He has spent weeks with us,” David said. “He can pass on my say. You may ask Sir Walter.”
“He is not here.”
“Then ask my lady,” Anne said. “I served her several years ago at Castle Alderley. She will remember the lady’s maid, Anne.”
Though the knight clearly did not wish to consult anyone else, at last he withdrew deeper into the house. Anne found herself feeling chilled, wondering if Bramfield had already tried to breach the security here. Or would they be lucky, and the corrupt Bladesman only knew that Lady Rosamond was in a secure home in London, but not exactly where—yet. She couldn’t imagine it would take him long.
But for now, Lady Rosamond was still here, and she was safe. Anne had not realized how worried and ill she felt, until the feelings had lessened.
At last they were shone up a flight of stairs to the first floor, where chambers were laid out front to back along the narrow house. Lady Rosamond and a maid were seated together in the first withdrawing chamber, their heads bent over embroidery.
When Lady Rosamond looked up, her hesitant expression changed into a relieved smile, and she tossed her embroidery onto a nearby table as she rose. She was as tall as Anne, and her black hair hung freely down her back, as if she could not be bothered to see to it.
Taking Anne’s hands, she said, “Glad I am to see you here, and safe, Anne. Your journey as me must have been a success.”
Though her words seemed innocuous enough, her expression seemed guarded, and she glanced several times at Philip and David.
“It was, until the end, my lady,” Anne said after curtsying.
“I was not told there was trouble,” she said quickly.
But…something about her manner seemed off. She might only be nervous about her coming meeting with the king, but even that she was putting off.
“My lady,” Anne said, “do not trouble yourse
lf on my account. I am fine now, but you do not seem well. Might we speak alone together?”
Lady Rosamond turned her head toward Anne, and the expression she betrayed could only be seen by Anne. There was urgency and relief and—great fear.
“Aye, come into my bedchamber, Anne. We will be but a minute, sir knights.”
Anne followed Lady Rosamond, and when the door closed, she was shocked when the lady gripped her upper arms tightly.
“I received a note just yesterday slipped beneath my bowl of pottage, saying that you were being held, and that they would kill you if I went to the king.”
Anne wanted to wince from the lady’s strong hold, but she understood the urgency. “You did not show it to anyone?”
“Nay, how could I? They would have insisted I go immediately to the king, risking your life. What is going on?”
“My lady, I was being held by Lord Bramfield, but I was rescued. We came here as quickly as we could, because Lord Bramfield had discovered where you were in London.”
“But how could he?” Lady Rosamond whispered, pacing in a tight circle near Anne. “The Bladesmen have guarded my secret with their very lives.”
“And that is our fear, my lady—that a Bladesman has been corrupted by Lord Bramfield and his traitorous friends. He doesn’t seem to have known about you until recently, or I fear the danger to you would have been severe. We do not know whom we can trust within the organization.” Anne hesitated. “I know this is dangerous, but do you still wish to go to the king?”
“Now more than ever,” Lady Rosamond said firmly. “The gathering is tonight. We cannot allow men like this to threaten us all, including King Henry. But the League cannot escort me.”
“Nay, that is a certainty. Would you allow Sir Philip and me to do so?”
“This knight is trustworthy?”
“Oh, aye, my lady, he has protected me and your secret for almost a fortnight. And before that, he was second to Lord Alderley, Lady Elizabeth’s new husband.”
“Then we will go,” she said with relieved determination. “Only how will we explain that I’m leaving the League’s protection?”