by Julia Latham
He had to know the truth.
On Christmas Day, the snow softly fell. Diana knelt on the cold stone of the chapel and looked for God’s peace, but it eluded her. Bannaster—Tom—had once again avoided mass, and she vowed to introduce him to the priest, so that he could see that many men of God were good.
For the next twelve days, there would be no work. All would enjoy the holiday, and take turns with the few necessary chores. The keep was still filled with villagers and tenants, many of whom had wrapped themselves in blankets and found a spot on the floor of the great hall for the night. It had been a challenge stepping across sleeping bodies when she’d come down before dawn.
When she entered the great hall after mass, Tom was already there, standing with a group of men near the hearth. He met her gaze from across the room, and the connection between them was as powerful as if they touched. She glanced away, feeling shy but trying to pretend indifference.
What was she supposed to do about him? When this was over, he might be her brother by marriage. Or could she keep him distracted from Cicely? And if she “distracted” him, what more would he expect of her—and how much would she offer? The League would certainly assume she showed a lack of objectivity where he was concerned.
Nay, before this spun more out of her control, she would begin a missive tonight, while she could still be objective. It would not be a complete report, but she thought she knew enough about him to make a start. Eventually she would choose the best way to deliver it to the League.
The holiday passed in a blur of carols and games for both young and old. They played King of the Bean, and Tom found the bean in his loaf of bread and was declared king of the feast for that night. Diana suspected that Cicely had been involved in that outcome. But Tom was a gracious king, even accepting the next role they’d imposed on him: the blindfolded player in Hood-man’s Bluff.
Many revelers formed a circle around him as the Kirkby captain, Nashe, tied Tom’s blindfold on tight. Then he spun their victim, and the crowd roared with delight when Tom staggered once before righting himself. He began to walk cautiously with both arms held up, leaning precariously to one side, searching for someone he could recognize by touch alone. Women shrieked and darted away from him, while men simply gave him a push in another direction.
Tom caught one boy’s collar, only to accidentally rip it off as the boy dropped to the floor and crawled on hands and knees through the legs of the crowd. Suddenly hands pushed Diana into the open circle that surrounded him. From the opposite side, Cicely staggered in a moment later, although Diana wasn’t sure someone had actually pushed her.
“Who’s here?” Tom called, his head tilted as if he would use his hearing rather than his sense of touch to determine his opponent.
While Cicely giggled loudly, Diana took the opposite tack and used silence, circling sideways like she did when facing an opponent on the tiltyard. Tom blindly turned his head, and she thought he was somehow tracking her. Why wasn’t the crowd screaming when she needed them to? Instead there was smothered laughter, and the occasional “ooh,” as Tom reached out with his hand and just missed her.
Diana ducked down beneath his raised arms and found herself behind him. The crowd reached forward with their hands to stop her from fleeing, so she was forced to turn and wait for his next pass.
Cicely was obviously through being patient. She was just slow enough that he easily caught her with the next swipe of his arm.
“Aha!” Tom cried. “Does this mean I win?”
“Nay, you have to name the person you caught,” Nashe called.
Nashe was always a man who paid too much attention to the rules, Diana thought with exasperation. She just wished that the game was over.
Tom slid his hands down Cicely’s arms. She gave a coy gasp.
“I believe ’tis a woman,” Tom said.
“My, how intelligent you are,” someone called.
People gasped and looked at each other in worry, as if a nobleman would take offense.
Diana was surprised to see that it had been Tom’s man, Talbot, who’d offered the good-natured insult. But Talbot was grinning, and she saw Tom turn toward his voice and return the grin.
Tom put his hands on Cicely’s head, fanning his fingers out through her hair. The ribbon came loose, and her long curls tumbled about her shoulders.
“I believe this is Mistress Cicely,” Tom said, stepping back.
Cicely pouted when his hands left her. “How did you know?”
“No one else wears their hair the way you do. And your perfume marks you well.”
“I am glad you noticed,” she purred, tossing her head.
Still blindfolded, Tom turned about. “But there was someone else in the ring with us.”
Diana, who’d been about to flee, found herself pushed back toward him again. She was tempted to say that the game was over, that he’d already won, but knew that her guests would be disappointed. She saw Cicely flash angry eyes at her; what was Diana supposed to do?
There was nothing distracting Tom from her now. Arms held before him, he moved toward her with purpose. Again she was able to speed by him, but he turned more swiftly this time and just missed catching her hair. The crowd gasped, and then one of the men caught him before he could reach the edge of their circle and turned him about in the right direction.
Diana wanted to cry foul, but this was a child’s game, not a contest for adults. Winning shouldn’t matter. Loyalty obviously didn’t, she thought with mild irritation. But she was battling Tom, and defeating him was always a good motivation.
He came toward her again just as she’d allowed herself to get too close to the crowd. She couldn’t dart past him, because cheering people were blocking her path on either side. As she was forced to drop down into a squat, Tom embraced the empty air above her. If she hadn’t been wearing a gown, she would have rolled past him and back to her feet. As it was, she tried to remain in a squat and step sideways, but he was on to her now. His flailing hand hit her head, knocking her onto her backside, where she quickly yanked down her skirts before they could do more than show her bare calves. Everyone gasped, but Tom was already pulling her to her feet.
She said nothing, trying not to breathe too quickly, trying not to tremble with his hands on her as memories of his kiss swept over her.
“Did I hurt you?” he asked with concern in his voice.
She couldn’t answer him without giving her identity away, so she covered her mouth with her hand, making everyone laugh.
He smiled with wicked chagrin when his trick didn’t work, then smoothed his hand over her head as if soothing what his clumsiness might have injured. He seemed to be good at knocking ribbons loose, for soon her hair fell forward.
The crowd oohed and aahed, and she thought that more than one person stared at her in surprise, as if the shock of her loose hair had reminded them that she was a woman. She waited for Tom to reveal her identity, but he let a confused expression cross his face.
“And this is not Mistress Cicely again?” he asked with feigned innocence.
Everyone laughed—except Cicely, of course, who stood with her arms folded and wore a tight smile.
“Who else would wear her hair like this?” he continued thoughtfully.
And to her surprise, he let his fingers slide down over her face, smoothing her forehead, her nose, her cheeks. She couldn’t seem to breathe as he tossed a big smile to the crowd and let his thumb trace her lower lip. Men started hooting, and Diana put her hands on her hips as if in exasperation—when really she was praying this would be over before she betrayed her confused emotions where he was concerned.
“Ah, I recognize you now!” Tom said in triumph. “For that is the mouth so good at giving orders. Mistress Diana!”
More laughter and cheers assaulted Diana’s ears as Tom pulled his blindfold off with a flourish. She wanted to kick him, and instead gave a quick curtsy of surrender.
“Now you owe me,” she said quietly as t
he crowd dispersed to find the next amusement.
“I won—how can I owe you?”
While he was still basking in his victory, she led him to the hearth and introduced their priest, Father Francis, who’d been asking to meet the nobleman who avoided mass. Father Francis was a good soul, and would not harangue Tom. When she left them alone, Tom was politely listening. Maybe he would see that not all priests had to remind him of his childhood misery.
After Diana had abandoned him to Father Francis, Tom was prepared for a sermon about the fires of hell waiting for him for missing mass. Yet the old man just seemed to want to talk, and Tom accepted the easy conversation for several minutes. Father Francis asked if Tom had seen the new church being constructed in London.
Since he still had a personal mission to complete, he soon made an excuse to leave the priest. He waited near the kitchens, and he was eventually rewarded by the arrival of the maidservant, Mary. He had already spoken to Cicely, and now it was time to speak to Diana’s friends. Diana had trusted Mary enough to help kidnap him, so the two women had to be close.
When Mary had set down saltcellars at several tables, she headed back down the kitchen corridor. Tom followed and called her name.
She turned around in surprise, and when she saw him, she could not hide her momentary look of guilt and fear. He had never wanted to see that kind of look directed at him again.
“Peace, Mary,” he murmured, saying nothing until several curious servants had passed. “Is there a private place we can speak?”
Obviously used to subservience, she bowed her head and led him through an intersecting corridor, down a set of stairs and out into the kitchen courtyard, where outdoor cook fires sizzled beneath roasting rabbits and birds for the large Christmas crowd. Several kitchen boys glanced at them without interest and went back to turning the spits. Beside the water well, snow-covered furrows of a kitchen garden waited for spring. At last the maidservant turned to face him, hugging herself, as if expecting the worst.
“Mary, you do not need to look so frightened,” he murmured. “I have told no one what you and your mistress did. I know it was a foolish mistake on her part.”
She nodded, but did not lift her eyes. “We are grateful, milord.”
“You know that I came here to court Cicely. To antagonize your mistress, I also included her.”
Mary only nodded again.
“I was still angry about being imprisoned, and thought I could find a way to punish her. But over the last few days, I have come to know her better.” He deliberately softened his voice. “It is easier to overlook what she did to me, because I’m so drawn to her.”
Now Mary’s brown eyes lifted to his, as if searching for the truth. And he wasn’t lying, at least not where his attraction to Diana was concerned.
“Tell me something about her, Mary. Tell me why I should choose her over her sister.”
Mary’s face brightened momentarily, she opened her mouth, but then a look of consternation flashed through her eyes. Again she bowed her head. “I know not what ye want me to say, milord.”
“How can I trust she’d make a good wife, when I see that she has so many skills of a man?”
“She’s strong, milord, and she has a mind that always needs to find new things to learn. Though she chose the tiltyard, she has a woman’s heart.”
“But why the tiltyard?” he asked with growing exasperation. “What would she possibly use those skills for, when she will eventually have a husband to defend her?”
Mary said earnestly, “Mayhap she never thought she’d find a husband. Mayhap she feared she alone would be called on to lead the defense of her castle.”
“But she was only a young girl when her father permitted it. Surely she never thought she’d be running any castle someday without a husband.”
Mary only shrugged, and looked longingly past him to the keep. Tom sighed as he realized he wasn’t going to learn anything else from her.
“Forgive me, Mary. I am simply trying to learn what I can about each sister, to make the decision that will benefit us all. Go back to your duties.”
With a grateful nod, she escaped, leaving him frustrated, yet still determined. It was time to look for positive proof about the League. If Diana had the medallion, the mark of the League, it would be in her bedchamber.
And on Christmas Day, he imagined she would not return there until nightfall, leaving him plenty of time to search it.
Chapter 15
Through Christmas afternoon, Diana enjoyed watching the merriment of her people, glad they did not have to work overly hard. Villagers and tenants took turns with the castle servants helping to prepare for that night’s feast when such an immense crowd would be served.
But somehow, she’d lost track of Tom’s whereabouts. He wasn’t with Cicely, who sat sewing with her maidservants, laughing at something Talbot was saying to the group.
Diana hated this feeling of relief that Tom wasn’t with her sister. Should she add jealousy to her many sins?
“Mistress Diana?”
She turned to see Mary hurrying toward her, her expression worried. “Aye, Mary, is something wrong?”
“’Tis Lord Bannaster.”
“I do not see him,” she said, once more glancing about the hall.
“I just spoke with him in the kitchen courtyard. He was askin’ questions about you, mistress, why ye wanted to learn a man’s skills. I said nothin’, of course,” she hastened to add.
Diana put a hand on her shoulder. “I know you didn’t, Mary. Do not worry yourself. He has been suspicious of me all along, with good reason after I put him in the dungeon, so this is nothing new.”
But although the maid went away satisfied, Diana was not. She’d seen Tom talking to Cicely earlier, and now he’d gone to Mary. Had both conversations been about her? What would he do next with his suspicions? He might be beginning to remember her. He might be ready to rid himself of everyone’s suspicions about his brother’s death.
What would she do in Tom’s place, if she had suspicions about him?
She would search his bedchamber, looking for something out of the ordinary.
Would he do the same to her?
She slipped out of the great hall, walking quickly up the stairs without looking back, in case someone tried to catch her eye. At her bedchamber door, she didn’t pause, worried he’d hear her in the corridor. She simply opened the door to her own bedchamber—
And found Tom Bannaster kneeling on the floor before one of her coffers, his hand on the closed lid.
He looked up at her, and betraying not a bit of guilt, gave her his slow, arousing smile.
She shut the door. “Why are you here?” she demanded coldly.
“I have been waiting for you,” he said, coming to his feet and sauntering toward her. “We have more Christmas gifts to exchange.”
Part of it was a lie, part of it was the truth. She knew that he wanted to dally with her, wanted her in his bed. Was that what it would take to dissuade his suspicions?
“If you were so confident in your powers of seduction,” Diana said, “you would have been waiting in my bed instead of going through my things.”
He put his hand on her shoulder, ran it slowly down her arm. She let him, telling herself she was distracting him.
Distracting herself, too.
“I was not going through your things,” he said, his low voice an intimate murmur. “Well, not all of them. I was looking for the perfect gown for you to wear tonight, something more festive and feminine.”
“I am not fine the way I am?” she asked, arching a brow. If she was toying with him, why did she let his words hurt her?
He clasped her hands between his and spoke earnestly. “I have never said that. You need no special gown to emphasis your womanliness. It is very obvious to me.”
His behavior had always shown that to be true. But then why was he looking into her coffer?
He pulled her closer, moving very slowly, as if waiting
for her to refuse.
Inside her brain were two very different voices, one telling her to push him away, the other slyly reminding her that she needed to keep him off guard, keep him distracted, while she finished her mission. Was he a man the League—and the king—could trust? She didn’t even know if she could trust him, and here she was, letting him touch her.
As his hands cupped her hips and slowly moved up her sides, she told herself that she was being practical, doing her duty for the League. But her eyes closed, her body swayed, as her logical mind began to fade away.
Another desperate part of her said that this wasn’t the way to keep him from Cicely.
But she no longer cared. Her world had become his hands, sliding now around her back, beginning to tug on her laces. She felt the press of his mouth just beneath her ear, tongue licking, teeth nipping. She groaned and tilted her head, giving him more access. His wet tongue rasped a path ever downward, and her garments, loosened, seemed to wilt down her body, giving him an invitation to take what he wanted. Her arms came free of her sleeves as her bodice and smock pooled at her waist.
She stood still, swaying with the pulse of desire that moved slowly through her blood, heating it. Leaning back, she grasped the bedpost in her hands, put her back against it, because she would have fallen without support. A cold breeze touched her bare chest only a moment before his mouth was there, warming her. He held her breasts in both hands, lifting them to his lips. She arched her back, trembling with the exquisite darts of pleasure that shot through her. Beneath lowered eyelids, she watched the concentration on his face as he licked slow circles about her nipple, teasing and taunting, leaving her to gasp her disappointment when he lifted his head, only to renew his attentions to her other breast.
Inside, she burned hot, centered between her thighs. She felt restless and needy, greedy for more, as if her skin quivered on its own. She could no longer pretend that she was not a willing part of this; she let go of the post and touched his broad, hard shoulders, holding them for support, then sliding her hands up into his hair to keep his head against her. His hair, soft and exotic, curled against her fingers.