Crimson Secret

by Janet Lane

  “We need to kill him.”

  “We know something about Penry,” she said, her voice gentle, sweet. “Knowledge that can be of good use to Tabor. To the queen. We …” she paused and lowered her delicate lashes, and they brushed against her skin like fans. She looked up and the sun’s last rays lit flecks of gold in her eyes. Martin leaned closer, absorbing the smell of her skin, warm with a hint of flowers.

  “Please.” Her eyes widened. “Give us two days with him. I will watch Joya. Make sure she doesn’t … ah … get too close to him again.”

  He considered her proposal. Well, she was the sensible one of the three. Joya, strutting like a peacock, always stirring things up, and Camilla, loping along with her knowing smiles and brash laughter—there wasn’t a rule made that Camilla didn’t mind breaking. But lovely Prudence was out of line. He couldn’t have them…

  “You can trust me.” The flush still lingered on her cheeks, but her eyes were direct, sincere. Her glance shot downward to her hands, still clutching his arm, and she released him. “Pray forgive me for being so bold.” She lowered her eyes. “Please. We have reason to believe we can turn him.”

  “I don’t believe it.”

  She met his gaze. “Only two days. I’ll be with her every moment.”

  Drinking the heady spell of her closeness, he wanted to please her, but he needed to protect Tabor. Ah, but what could two days hurt? He would get the captain to double up on security so the traitor couldn’t slip away. He took her small hands in his. “Two days. Only for you.”

  * * *

  After the bonfires that same night, Joya followed Peter and another guard as they escorted them during the short ride back to Coin Forest. Joya reigned Goldie to the left to make room for Camilla and Prudence and together they passed the Coin Forest orchards. Early blooming apple blossoms perfumed the air and the moist earth, stirred from the horse’s hooves, released the musky sweetness of spring.

  From Joya's saddle rose the tantalizing smell of smoked sausage, a treat she would give to Effie and her family. The aroma of the links mingled with that of the sweet earth and brought memories of springs past. A sense of heightened wakefulness came over her. This spring was different. Luke was in her castle now.

  Luke. The trees whispered his name.

  Joya looked past the drawbridge, past the ancient oak tree to the castle and the west chamber where he waited with his blue, blue eyes. She wanted to tell her friends of the sweet feelings he stirred in her, but an unusual wish for privacy kept her silent. “So, Pru. What did you say to sway Martin so quickly?” She spoke quietly, though the guards were deep into their own conversation. “I vow, you blushed so much, you almost swooned.”

  Pru gave intense attention to her reins, avoiding their eyes.

  “Come on, tell,” Cam said. “What did you say to him?”

  Pru hesitated. “That he could count on me to make sure you don’t see Luke alone.”

  “No, no, we mean what did you say to make him smile like that? Martin never smiles. Well, rarely.” Cam rode closer to Pru. I can’t see in the dark. Are you blushing again? You can’t really be interested in him. He’s only a guard.”

  “He’s the captain’s son. He will be knighted.”

  “You’ve given thought to this.” Surprise animated Cam’s voice. “But he’s so serious. Not like George at all.”

  Pru laughed. “And I’m not at all like you, Camilla.”

  “So, Cam, what about Lord Minton?” Joya asked.

  “George? He has hairy arms … and great lips.”

  Joya and Pru laughed.

  “And he licks his lips, in the corners of his mouth, when he’s nervous.” Cam grinned. “I told him he had a nice tongue, and that he could put it to much better use.”

  “You didn’t. Cam,” Joya said. “I vow, you’re brassy!”

  “What?” Pru asked, reining her horse closer. “What was brassy about that?”

  Cam pulled her horse to a stop. “Really, Pru. You’ve seen the bulls with the cows?”

  Pru looked at them, her face blank. A moment passed, and her mouth dropped. “Cam!”

  Joya and Cam laughed.

  “Ladies. Don’t lag,” Peter said. “Stay with us.”

  They drew up closer to the guards, maintaining enough distance for private conversation.

  Joya turned their conversation back to Cam. “When George wasn’t licking his lips for you, I saw him whispering something while you were dancing. What did he say?”

  “He likes my gown. See, I told you I needed to wear the green one. And he said he’s been thinking about me all this past fortnight,” Cam said.

  “Yeah. Doubtless thinking of your great lips,” Joya said.

  “And he knows precisely how to use his,” Cam said, laughing.

  “Pru, thank you for speaking to Martin. When he saw us kissing, his jaw fell, I can tell you. He was Giles’ friend. What he must think of me.”

  “He worries about your father’s standing with the queen,” Pru said. “I’m sure he doesn’t deny you happiness. It’s been a long time since Blore Heath.”

  “Only seven months,” Joya said.

  “Verily, but still a long time,” Pru said.

  “A Yorkist,” Joya said. “I couldn’t believe it was me in that gaol, either. I’m ashamed. But I can’t think clearly when he’s around. If I have an urge to see him again, stop me!”

  “Oh, child,” Cam purred. “From the look on your face right now, it will do no good.”

  The castle came into view, the village snuggled outside the stone curtain like a cape, shimmering with tallow torches and oil lanterns. But the village was hushed, mainly populated by guards at paced intervals as the women approached the bridge into Coin Forest Castle. Irwin’s Inn was empty, bereft of the usual whores’ laughter and playful taunts. Only Irwin and his wife were there, sitting quietly by the fire.

  “Like a graveyard,” Joya said

  “Most stayed at Ilchester. George did, too.” Camilla said. “We’ll need to leave early so we don’t miss the songs.”

  “You’ll need to leave early so you don’t miss George,” Joya said.

  “Oh, he’ll wait for me.” She laughed. “Or I’ll find him. There’s no tree big enough that can hide him.”

  The guards allowed them to enter, and Prudence led the way to the stables. “Of course he’ll wait,” Pru said. “His cone is red, red, red.”

  Camilla guffawed at the crude reference to George’s passion. “Pru! There’s hope for you yet.”

  “One thing’s sure,” Joya said. “This will be one morning we won’t have to drag your sorry bum out of bed.”

  “You’ll be up before the cock’s crow,” Pru said.

  “Certes,” Cam countered. “And you won’t sleep a wink thinking about Martin.” She sang his name a couple of times for effect.

  Pru said nothing, but a slow smile pulled at her mouth.

  In Joya’s chamber they washed and cleaned their teeth with Sharai’s mint leaves. “Here, Effie,” Joya said, handing her chambermaid the package of sausages.

  Effie sniffed deeply. “Pork sausage. You’re so good to me, my lady. Thank you,” she said. “My family thanks you, as well.” Smiling, she set the package aside and helped them lay out their gowns and coronets for the morning.

  The girls pulled the curtain aside and fell into the bed.

  “I can’t believe it’s almost here. May Day,” Camilla said. “I wonder who’ll be crowned Queen.”

  “And who’ll find the maypole tree,” Pru said. “I hope Martin asks me to help him.”

  Joya laughed. “Do birds sing in the morning? Of course he’ll ask you. He probably looks like you do now … wide awake, staring at the fire, dreaming of you.”

  Pru gave Joya a sheepish smile and turned over. The fire dwindled. Conversation died and Camilla started snoring.

  Joya lay awake, watching the moon through the open curtain of her bed. May Day meant naught to her. She inhaled deeply, acut
ely aware with each breath that Luke was two doors away in her brother’s old chamber. She had noticed, when they passed it, that the fire was burning high. It had not been banked, which meant he was probably not going to bed yet. Was he owl-like with his habits, staying up late, she wondered?

  Sleep evaded her and Joya quietly climbed out of bed and slipped into her chemise and a robe. As she put her hand on the bolt, a hand stopped her. Pru.

  “Privy?” Pru asked.” We have our chamber pots.”

  Joya considered lying and rejected the thought. “No.”

  “Then get back in bed.”

  Joya hesitated.

  “You asked us to stop you.”

  “I’m going to check on him. See if he needs anything.” It sounded lame as she said it.

  “I promised Martin. And you promised your father,” Pru added.

  “He saved my life. I need to return the favor, and if I can turn him he can be an asset to the queen.”

  “Don’t be scandalous. It’s late. Do this in daylight.”

  Joya felt invisible chains on her arms, weighing her down. Her stomach suffered a peculiar fluttering. Desperation pulsed through her limbs. She had to go to him. “I can’t wait.” She removed Pru’s hand from the bolt.

  “I don’t understand you,” Pru said. “Wait until daylight.”

  “You’re right. I don’t understand me, either, but I must go.”

  Joya slipped out the door.

  Pru stuck her head out into the hall. “Be back in the shake of a lamb’s tail, or I swear, I’ll come fetch you.”

  Freed, Joya approached Stephen’s room. Her blood pulsed in her ears, and each breath was a trial. What’s wrong with me? A raw restlessness emboldened her.

  When Luke was near, he stirred her senses. Even now, knowing she grew closer to him with each step, he affected her.

  Soft snoring sounded from ahead, and Joya turned the corner that led to the west hallway. A guard slept, failing to hold his post. He leaned against the wall, reeking of mead, sprawled on the bench.

  She slipped by him and reached Stephen’s door, scarred with deep scratches from Stephen’s sword play when he was a child. It was slightly ajar. She couldn’t knock and risk waking the guard. Putting her hand on the door, she opened it slightly. It creaked, unsettling her, but she forged ahead anyway, driven by a need to see him.

  Inside, the fire crackled, the room comfortably warm. His opened garderobe door revealed a few of Stephen’s clothes that still remained there.

  “Lord Penry?” she ventured.

  A hand gripped hers.

  Joya gasped and turned.

  Martin drew her close and shoved his wide face into hers, mouth tight, his brows drawn in a judgmental scowl. “What in Hades’ fire are you doing here, alone?” His lowered voice had a rough edge to it.

  Joya cringed at what he knew and what he suspected. She licked her dry lips, feeling very young of a sudden, very naughty, very exposed.

  “Well?”

  Thoughts lost all form and rattled around in her head. Finding no excuses, she returned his scowl. “’Tis no business of yours.” She fought to keep the nerves from her voice, to take him off balance with her scorn.

  “Perhaps you’d rather tell Lord Tabor.” He pulled her out in the hall.

  “No. No. I was…wakeful and walking, and saw the fire in Stephen’s room and wondered…” She faded into the futility of her defense. “Well, never mind. I’m back to my chamber with Cam and Pru.” She pulled free and before he could chastise her further, she hurried down the hall toward her room.

  At her door, she looked farther down the hall and noted firelight coming from the solar, late as it was. And a man’s soft cough that had become familiar to her. Luke.

  She entered her chamber and closed the door.

  Pru slipped from the bed and approached silently. “That was quick. What happened?”

  Joya pressed a hand to her heart, trying to still it. “He wasn’t there. Martin saw me.”

  “Oh no. Joya! He’ll think I let him down.”

  Pulling the door open again, Joya slipped away from her. “I’ll find him. Explain.”

  “I promised him.”

  Her impulsiveness was hurting her friend. “Don’t worry,” Joya said. “I’ll fix it.”

  Confirming the hallway was empty, Joya proceeded to the solar.

  Chapter 6

  The hallway was cool and quiet, the guard at his post, still snoring softly.

  The worry lines on Pru’s face had driven home to Joya how much Martin meant to her. They had been friends since Joya could remember, and Pru was almost as close to her as her sister, Faith. Joya had failed both Martin and Pru.

  And what was she doing now? Was she seeking out Martin to help smooth things over for Pru? No, she was following Luke’s voice to the solar. She shook her head at her own stupidity.

  As she neared the solar, her father and Luke’s voices grew clear and her curiosity flared at what they might be discussing.

  Staying in the shadows, Joya peeked in.

  A fire shed a ring of light, and a half-dozen candles burned on the massive table where her mother sewed during the day. Ells of colorful fabric stood on end in the corner, and the table now held a chess set, over which her father and Lord Penry were hunched. They sat across from each other, deeply engaged in the game and their conversation.

  Luke had cleaned up. She had seen his face muddied and caked in blood in the forest, had seen it wet, dripping and determined in the river, and stubbled and bloodied in the gaol. He sat at the table now, clean shaven, washed, his hair shining and groomed, a lighter shade of brown than she had thought.

  His usual scowl had vanished. The sharp planes of his thin face had softened, more relaxed as he regarded his chess pieces. They were drinking a bottle of her father’s reserved wine, stoppered with the oiled cloths of the Benedectine monasteries in Burgundy.

  She took full advantage of her shadowed shelter and lingered on every detail.

  His face was handsome, complex. Firelight shone on the surface of his blue eyes. His regal nose, ever so slightly off center to the right, divided his long, thin face. His ears, positioned high, made his face seem longer. He had shaved, but left some of his recent facial growth—the beginnings of a mustache accentuated the sensual curve of his upper lip. Oh, she knew what those lips felt like, how they tasted…

  What was she doing? While ogling Luke, she had unknowingly slipped further into the room, still in the shadows, but the door was now several feet away, and she hadn’t announced her presence. If they caught her snooping in the shadows, she would faint from the humiliation of acting like a gawking loon. But there was no shelter to take. She sank slowly to her knees, hoping to sneak out so she could re-enter more graciously.

  Luke advanced a chess piece and her father leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand, studying the board.

  “So. You build bridges.”

  “Yes.”

  “My Fritham overseer is from your village. He knows of your work on the Harrold bridge, and the new extension you built on the Stour. Word is, you’re accomplished at your craft.”

  “Thank you.”

  Joya warmed to her father’s praise of Luke. If they could save him, he would be a most suitable match for her, a landed noble with a fine reputation. Fresh hope made her light-headed of a sudden.

  Her father straightened. “It appears you’re involved in a very large project now.”

  Luke kept his gaze on the board. “Yes.”

  His responses were short, curt. From the shadows Joya took comfort that Luke was about as conversational as a wall with her father, too.

  Tabor cocked his head and regarded him. “Your father and I spent some time together at court, especially during the tax session in Calais. I was sorry to hear of the fire, and his passing. His, and your brother’s.”

  “Thank you.”

  “It must have been a sudden blow for you. Not only did you lose your father, but y
our older brother at the same time. You had established your reputation as a bridge builder, but suddenly you were heir to your father’s holdings and responsible for Penryton.”

  “It was.”

  Tabor’s mouth puckered in annoyance. “Your family has long been loyal to the king. What led you to change?”

  “It wasn’t sudden.”

  Her father rose and began to pace, a sign of impatience Joya had known since her childhood. “We have the plans we found in your boot,” he said. “You were going to meet with York. When?”

  “You read the plans.”

  “God’s nails, Penry, you know it’s all in code! What are you and York scheming in Sandwich?”

  Luke said nothing.

  Joya looked back at the door. If she could inch her way toward it, she could enter normally and join the conversation, help her father as he tried to talk sense into Luke and sway him to the king’s side. Still on her knees, she bobbed a couple of steps toward the door.

  Tabor slammed his hands on the table and leaned on them, towering over Luke. “Speak the truth. You’ve joined York to rout the king from his throne.”

  Luke gazed at him, cool and deliberate. “Yes.”

  “You won’t live long enough,” her father growled. He stood and looked her way. “And Joya. Are you a young child of a sudden? Haunting the halls in your robe? Get off your hands and knees and come out of the shadows. It reflects poorly on you.”

  Aghast, Joya rose.

  “From what Martin says, you have a strong interest in Lord Penry,” her father said. “Come hither, and you’ll learn more about him.”

  A fresh scowl creased Luke’s forehead.

  Joya approached, walking through the heat of embarrassment. “I’m sorry, father, I—”

  “You were inspecting the underside of the table, I’m sure,” her father said. “Looking to clear the spider webs?”

  Luke laughed, and the men shared a smile of amusement.

  At my expense. Shamed, Joya’s face heated so that it threatened to melt right off her shoulders, and she met her father’s gaze, silently cursing his ill-timed sense of humor.