Game of Spies

by Pamela Mingle

  “Did you hear anything of their conversation?”

  She shook her head. “I am afraid not. Their voices were low and they had passed me within seconds. But Gavin, I think Lesley bribed the guard to keep the door unlocked. Something changed hands between them.”

  He looked grim. “God’s wounds. Do you know which guard it was?”

  “Let me think.” Isabel pictured the dark passage, but all she could see was Frances and Lesley. She’d heard the guard’s voice, but she could not identify it. She did know any of them well enough. “I’m sorry, but no.”

  After searching her face for a moment, he spoke. “If I share a secret with you, do you swear to tell nobody else? Not Mary, or any of her ladies. Nor any of the men, for that matter. No one. This must remain confidential. My life—and your own—may depend on it.”

  Taken aback, Isabel agreed at once. He would not ask this of her over something trivial.

  “There was an attempt on my life last night.”

  Thinking she’d misunderstood, Isabel said, “That is not funny, Gavin. I’m in no state for a jest right now.”

  Gavin laughed bitterly. “Would that it was a jest.” A cold breeze whistled through the ruins, and he sprang to his feet. “Hold a moment.” Isabel watched as he prowled about, checking every nook and cranny where someone might be hiding.

  Returning, he resumed his seat beside her. Worry pinched his brow, and she no longer doubted his sincerity. Laying a hand on his arm, she said, “I do beg your pardon. Tell me what happened.”

  Before she could remove her hand, Gavin enfolded it in his own. He told a tale so dastardly, she was thunderstruck. He’d been staked to the bank of the weir and left to drown.

  “You nearly died! What if you hadn’t been able to…to extricate yourself?” Her voice had risen slightly, and he put a finger to his lips to remind her to speak softly. The thought of Gavin dying, or even simply going away, left an empty place in her heart.

  “I would have drowned. There is no question about that.”

  “Everybody would have known you’d been murdered, and the perpetrators eventually found out.”

  “Nay, I believe their plan was to return, untie me, and remove the stake. That way it would have seemed like an accident. They would put it about that I was drunk, and that was why I retired early. In my cups, I went walking along the river and fell into the weir.”

  “So many holes in that story. You’re never intoxicated, and even if you were, you would not be stupid enough to venture all the way to the river. And how would the damn miraculously have opened?”

  Gavin shrugged. “It is a moot point, since I survived.”

  Isabel quieted, thinking. “Who would want you dead?”

  He did not speak immediately. At length, he said, “John Lesley is at the top of my list.”

  “The bishop?” She could not keep the skepticism from her voice. “That requires explanation.”

  Frowning, he said, “It is a complex situation, Bel. Forgive me, but I cannot reveal all the details. It is better that you not know.”

  She quirked a corner of her mouth. “Someone nearly killed you, and you cannot tell me anything of your chief suspect? Why would it endanger me? I barely speak to anybody.”

  “You speak to Mary.”

  “She tells me of her fondest hopes and of her unhappy past. This morning, she expressed her frustration with Elizabeth. That is all. She has no curiosity about me or my life, other than teasing me occasionally.” Isabel looked askance at him. “Surely Mary had no part in this deed.”

  Gavin didn’t argue the point. He finally relinquished her hand, and she felt the loss of his touch keenly. Frustrated, Isabel could see he would likely say no more.

  “What did Lady Shrewsbury say when you told her about last night?”

  “She was oddly calm about it. It seems Frances and Lesley are engaging in a liaison.” Bel chuckled. “As unlikely as that seems. I challenged her about the fact that the door at the end of the passage had been unlocked for quite some time, but she did not seem to agree that was worrisome.”

  “Lady Shrewsbury is close with Mary and loath to believe there may be anything devious occurring. In her mind, an association with Mary glorifies her own reputation. Do you credit that, Bel?” Gavin asked. “A love affair between Frances and Lesley?”

  “I confess I do not know what to think. Given what I saw last night, they may have been involved in the attempt to kill you.”

  “It is indeed suspicious that they were outside at such a late hour. Lovers would have been inside engaged in…something else.”

  “What will you do now?”

  “Watch. Wait. Hope they make a mistake.” He rose and, taking hold of her hands, pulled her up beside him. “One more thing before I let you go. Be wary and use discretion in what you say to the queen. She has some involvement, if not in the attempt on my life, then in the incident at the river. You must not confide in her, even if she demands it.”

  “What? In the attack? I can’t accept that. And if she were involved, I cannot believe she is other than an unwilling dupe.”

  “You underestimate her.”

  “And you are too willing to pronounce her guilty.”

  Gavin heaved a sigh and glanced off to one side. He was annoyed with her, that much was obvious. “You must return before your lengthy absence is noted. We’ll talk more of this another time.” He paused, then said, “We must not be seen together. You leave first.”

  She nodded. “You will sleep now?”

  He laughed softly. “That is all I am fit for at present.” He brushed a hand across her cheek. “Take care, dearest Isabel.”

  …

  When Gavin entered Mary’s presence chamber before dinner, heads swiveled in his direction. To his dismay, he detected no sign of shock or undue surprise in anyone’s expression. Someone must have seen him earlier and mentioned it in passing—or reported it to Lesley. If indeed Lesley was the master of this operation. But it was obvious that if Gavin’s assailant was among those gathered here, he was already aware that Gavin had not drowned in the weir.

  After parting from Isabel, he’d gone to his residence and slept most of the afternoon. His servant had roused him in time to bathe and dress for dinner. He’d not had sufficient time to organize his disparate thoughts about all that had occurred the previous day, and knew only two facts for a certainty: someone wanted him dead, and Mary and Norfolk were conspiring to overthrow the queen. Now the real work of finding evidence to assign guilt would begin. Gavin must sort out, among all the sycophants, hangers-on, ladies-in-waiting, guards, and staff, who could be trusted.

  Gavin trusted Isabel implicitly, but she worried him. She was so open, so naive. In truth, it was her advocacy of Mary’s innocence that worried him. Bel possessed an unshakeable faith in the woman. He hated the idea of using her; nonetheless, Bel’s close connection to the queen would force his hand. Bright and perceptive, Isabel would catch on if he pushed her too far, so he would need to tread lightly. And then there was the matter of his attraction to her. After almost losing his life, he no longer wished to fight it. She was looking particularly lovely tonight, her glorious hair flowing around her shoulders, her creamy skin glowing in the candlelight. How he would love to bare that skin, caress those shoulders.

  Another day, man. Focus. He’d been hovering in the entrance for too long. He accepted a glass of wine from a servant before crossing the room.

  “Well met, Cade. Glad you could rouse yourself to join us,” Philip Blake said.

  “I had some inventory lists to check,” he lied. “The supplier had to be on his way, so I couldn’t put it off.”

  “Have you learned anything about who attacked us yesterday, Gavin?” Dorothy asked.

  “No. We’re still investigating.” Gavin noticed Shrewsbury in conversation with the queen, which meant Isabel now sat alone. “Pardon me,” he said, and made his way to her.

  He bowed. “Good even, Isabel.”

  Sh
e rose and curtsied. “Master Cade.” Glancing about to ensure nobody was close enough to overhear, she said, “You appear recovered from your ordeal.”

  “‘Sorrow can be alleviated by good sleep, a bath, and a glass of wine,’” he said, raising his glass. “Now I’ve had all three.”

  “I have heard that somewhere before,” she said, eyeing him.

  Gavin laughed. “Indeed, it is not original with me. Thomas Aquinas said it first.”

  The queen signaled that dinner would soon be served, and Gavin offered Isabel his arm. “May I have the honor?”

  Once in the dining chamber, Mary said, “Bel, sit beside me, s’il vous plait!”

  Isabel, caught off guard, momentarily looked dismayed, but quickly flashed a smile. “Bien sur, Your Majesty.”

  God’s wounds, couldn’t the queen leave Isabel in peace? Gavin pulled out her chair and excused himself. Unfortunately, the only place left at the long table was between Frances and Lesley. He had no heart for conversing with either of them. Come to think of it, though, he might be able to goad Lesley into making a mistake or revealing something unintentionally.

  “I understand there was quite a fracas at the river yesterday,” Lesley said to Gavin.

  Ah, just the opening he needed.

  “That’s so. I took your suggestion to heart, that Queen Mary needed fresh air and exercise, and mark the result. Shrewsbury will probably not allow it again.”

  “That would be a pity for Mary.”

  Gavin shrugged noncommittally. “I’ve been wondering how the villains knew not only when, but where the outing would take place,” he said.

  “Perhaps they’d been keeping watch.”

  Gavin deftly sliced a piece of salmon from its skin and ate it. “Anything is possible, I suppose.”

  “Who were they? Any idea?”

  After a swallow of wine, Gavin said, “I thought perhaps you might have an idea. As Mary’s close advisor and friend, you must keep one eye trained on the machinations swirling around her. What say you, sir?”

  Next to him, Frances inhaled sharply. From what Gavin had observed since coming to Tutbury, nobody challenged the bishop.

  Lesley’s ruddy complexion seemed to pale. “I? I would have no notions of such schemes, Master Cade. Take care who you are accusing.”

  “’Tis not an accusation, sir, merely a question. You are close to the queen; therefore, you are under some obligation to discover whether any harm is meant her.” When Lesley began to sputter and growl, Gavin nearly laughed.

  “Protecting Mary is Shrewsbury’s—and your—job. Not mine. I am no food-taster, sir, nor common retainer who follows her about checking behind chairs and under beds.”

  “I never said you were, Bishop.” God’s light, Gavin had truly rattled the fellow. It was far too much fun. “What you do is far more complicated, is it not?”

  “You are rude and acting above your station, Master Cade. I shall have Shrewsbury deal with you.”

  “You can try,” Gavin said. He fixed his gaze on Lesley for long enough to let him know he was under suspicion. Then he smiled, letting his mouth curve up ever so slightly, mocking the man. Lesley turned away and started a conversation with a lady on his other side.

  Gavin took up his knife and began eating a salad of greens, herbs, and flowers. His gaze drifted toward Isabel, and their eyes locked. He allowed his to linger on her generous, sensual mouth, then to drift downward. She was wearing the aubergine gown again. The bodice was tightly corseted, her chest pushed high. Even though she wore a partlet for modesty’s sake, he could still discern the swell of her breasts. She blushed and resumed eating, but she knew. She knew he burned for her.

  Tonight, he would claim that kiss he’d missed out on at the river.

  …

  Isabel didn’t understand why Mary had demanded her presence, because she spoke exclusively to Philip Blake throughout the meal. The Earl of Shrewsbury sat on Bel’s opposite side, but conversing with him was a chore. He seemed preoccupied, no doubt distracted by yesterday’s events. And then Gavin caught her eye, and she felt his sensual awareness of her all the way to her toes. His scrutiny was an invitation, one she would not refuse. That realization was…disquieting. After that, she set down her knife and ate nothing more. A fluttering in her core grew, dipping and rising. A kind of tension she’d never felt before.

  Alice was asking the earl a question, and suddenly voices quieted. “Are we safe, my lord? I vow, I had difficulty sleeping last night for fear those villains would murder us in our beds.”

  “No, no, rest assured, the castle is well guarded. There is no danger of that.”

  “But what did they want?” Cecily asked. “They came nowhere near Her Majesty.”

  “Because our men prevented it,” Gavin said. “We believe they were locals, taking part in some impetuous action to kidnap the queen.”

  “And as I told Gavin, I’m grateful their plan failed,” Mary said. “I would love nothing better than to return to Scotland, but not in that way. Who knows what would have befallen me?”

  “I hope you discover who was responsible.” All heads swiveled toward Frances, usually so reserved. “Else they could strike again.” In the abstract, Isabel could believe the woman may have been involved in the attempt on Gavin’s life, but here, at the dining table, beneath the beeswax candlelight, she seemed the epitome of innocence and sincerity.

  Gavin looked directly at Frances. “We will. Do not doubt it.”

  Was that a warning? If she was guilty of anything, Frances might interpret it as such. Showing no reaction to Gavin’s statement, she simply picked up her knife and de-boned a piece of salmon.

  After the meal, Mary retired. Nobody felt like dancing, but several wished to play cards. While they were organizing their foursomes, Gavin approached Isabel.

  “Will you walk with me, Bel?” he asked.

  “Now?”

  Amusement danced in his eyes. “Aye, now. When else?”

  “It is dark, sir.”

  “Cease calling me sir, Isabel. You know my name. Are you afraid of the dark?”

  “Of course not. But I thought you might be.” When he frowned at her, she added, “With good reason.” Chuckling, he winged his arm and she grasped it. If the others noticed, they gave no sign. Gavin informed the guards of their intention, and one of them smirked, as though he knew what they were up to. Isabel felt her cheeks flame.

  When they stepped outside, he said, “Will you be all right without your mantle for a short time?” At her nod, he began to lead her around the bailey’s perimeter, as though he had a destination in mind.

  “Where are we going?”

  “You’ll see in a moment.”

  Isabel hoped he had not formed a mistaken impression of her. Unlike Mary’s other ladies, she was inexperienced in the…sensual arts. Had she invented that phrase, or heard it somewhere? She was trembling with excitement, or perhaps fear, but she meant to enjoy this encounter with Gavin, whatever it turned out to be. She trusted him. He would not take advantage of her.

  “Warm enough?” It was a windy night, but still mild.

  “Aye.” It was not the cold that was causing her to shiver—but she did not say that. “The moon is lovely. ’Tis waxing, I think.”

  He steered her toward a building near the main gate. “What is this place?”

  “The receiver’s lodging,” Gavin said. “It’s used to house guests, but we rarely have any at Tutbury.”

  A thought occurred to Isabel. “Are you sure nobody else uses it for, ah, meetings?”

  Laughing, Gavin drew her inside and closed the door. “I am not sure. But nobody else has left the queen’s lodging, so I believe we are safe for now.” And then he pulled her close. So close she could hear him breathing, feel his heart beating. He smelled of mint and clove. She set her palms on his chest and gazed up at him.

  “I have been longing for that kiss snatched away from us at the river,” he said, and then set his lips on hers. Taken b
y surprise, it was a moment before Isabel relaxed into Gavin’s arms and the sensation of his kiss. His lips were soft and mobile, gently coaxing hers open. When his tongue pushed into her mouth, she let out a little gasp. Gavin raised his head. “Do you want to stop?”

  “No,” she said.

  “Thank Christ. You are passing lovely tonight, Bel.” This time his kiss was more commanding. He took her mouth, possessed it, and she reveled in the extraordinary sensations he was arousing in her. His tongue clashed with hers and explored the soft inside of her mouth. She wanted more of him, so when he ran his hands down her sides and grasped her bottom, she did not stop him. He pulled her against him, and she felt his erection press against her belly.

  Definitely not the shape of an artichoke.

  She wanted to touch his face. Pulling back a little, Bel reached up and placed her palms on either side of it. He stopped, watching her, waiting to see what she would do. What she wanted. Remembering the sensual pleasure of his fingers moving across her scalp, she slipped her hands into his thick hair, pausing briefly to knead, feeling triumphant when he closed his eyes and groaned aloud. And then she slid them down, caressing his forehead, running her thumbs in a line over his cheeks and lips. When she reached his neck, he spoke, his voice like gravel.

  “God’s mercy, Isabel, you’re killing me.” He lifted her, then, and carried her to a settle. Setting her on his lap, he pushed her legs apart and to either side. She didn’t know what would come next, only that she might scream in frustration if he stopped. He rained kisses on her lips and neck, and after ripping away her partlet, the tops of her breasts. Skirts hiked up, Isabel pressed her core against his hardness. She had a wild urge to rub herself against him. She had never been intoxicated, but undeniably, she was now.

  What a fool I am. This couldn’t go on, as much as she longed for it.

  “Gavin.” Her voice was a whisper. “We must stop.”

  After one last kiss, he lifted her off him and set her down. “I’m not like the other ladies, you know.”

  He studied her, his blue eyes gleaming in the dark. “Nay, sweetheart. I am not a man who takes liberties. In fact, I took more than I should have. I only intended a kiss.” He got to his feet and pulled her up with him. “I’ve no intention of bedding you.”