“Since the rebellion in the north, we have a small garrison of men here. I’ll have the steward inform them.”
Gavin nodded in acknowledgment.
“Gavin was injured, my lady,” Isabel said. “I tended the wound, but we may need your assistance with bandages and salves.”
“A knife wound?”
“Nay, sword. I stitched it.”
“You must keep a close watch on it, as those cuts can fester and send poisons throughout the body. I can supply whatever you need.” After a brief pause, she said, “I have missives addressed to you, Master Cade, from both Shrewsbury and one Nicholas Ryder. I’ll give them to you after our meal.”
Isabel stole a look at Gavin, but he simply thanked Lady Anne and turned his attention to the food, which was plentiful. Servants were setting out large platters of salads, beef roast, capons, salmon, and buttered peas. The scents wafting toward her made her mouth water with anticipation. Isabel had to check herself so as not to appear gluttonous. Neither she nor Gavin had eaten all day, and she was ravenous.
It was so quiet here, compared to what she’d been accustomed to. For a time, there was no need of conversation, because the three of them were partaking of the various dishes with gusto. Lady Anne ate as heartily as she and Gavin. By the time the minced pies and custards were served, Isabel felt too sated to eat another bite. Oddly, though, she did. How could one resist a minced pie?
At length, Lady Anne rose. “If you’ll follow me, pray.” Once in the drawing room, she handed Gavin a packet. “I shall retire to my chambers, but do stay here and enjoy a glass of sack while you read your missives.”
They thanked her for her hospitality, and she left them alone. Isabel poured them each a measure of sack, and, seated on a cushioned settle, they settled in to read.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Gavin opened Shrewsbury’s missive first and read it out loud to Isabel. It was brief, consisting of a few hastily scrawled lines. “Do not continue on your journey to Carlisle. Remain at Skipton and await Nicholas Ryder’s arrival. He has important news to impart. Have made no progress investigating the other matter. And his signature. That’s the entire message.”
Gavin dropped the hand holding the letter to his lap and locked eyes with Bel. “Very cryptic. Is he referring to my fall?” When Gavin nodded, she said, “Open Ryder’s letter. Perhaps it will tell us more.”
After handing the earl’s letter to Isabel, he unsealed the second one, from Ryder. “Merciful God,” Gavin said, after scanning it:
29 December 1570
Brampton
Cade,
I will soon be en route to Skipton. Wait for me at the castle, where I will join you late on the New Year. We have arrested John Lesley and the Duke of Norfolk. As I write this, both are being held in the Tower. They are undergoing interrogation. The information you provided was instrumental in capturing them, although our case was bolstered by a packet of ciphered letters addressed to the bishop and seized at Dover.
Pray, do nothing until we speak. Your safety, and that of Mistress Tait, may be at risk.
Regards,
N. Ryder
“What does this mean, Gavin? Is it over? Why are we still in danger?”
Gavin knew full well what it meant. It was Isabel whose life they wanted to snuff out in pursuit of their goals; he had no doubt that Lesley’s underlings would continue to pursue that end. She was the one in whom Queen Mary had confided. He was at risk only as her protector. But he had no intention of revealing the truth to her at this juncture. He didn’t wish to frighten her, and he would be here to watch over her. “We must wait and see what Ryder has to say. Perhaps he needs to record our testimony regarding the attempts to kill us. Not to mention the attackers on the road to Skipton. Of course, he does not yet know about that piece of devilry.”
Yawning, Isabel rested her head against the back of the settle. Dark smudges under her eyes gave away her exhaustion. Gavin folded both letters and tucked them into a pocket in his doublet. “Come, Bel. It is time to retire. Shall I carry you to your bed?”
She laughed. “Given your injury, I don’t think that’s a good idea.” At her door, he drew her into his arms and gently kissed her lips. “God keep you, sweet Bel.”
“Good night, Gavin. Sleep well.” Just inside the chamber, she suddenly stopped. “Your wound. I should check it before we retire.”
“Nay. I’ll examine it. I promise to summon you if it needs your ministrations.”
“Swear?”
“I swear. Now, to bed with you, because the thought of you touching my body in any way is causing me discomfort in my nether regions.” Gently, he pushed her over the threshold.
…
New Year 1571
Isabel was awake the next morning when a servant quietly entered to light the fire. Bisou was nestled next to her. When the fire caught, the flames lit the room, their shadows dancing on the walls. An uneasy feeling had been lurking at the back of her mind since her fall down the stairs at Sheffield. Yesterday, as the attackers were nearly upon them, Gavin had stated explicitly it was she the assailants were after, which had significantly increased her unease.
Why? What did they want with her?
She already had the answer, though it pained her to acknowledge it. They knew Mary had confided in her. She could give evidence against the Scots queen, and they needed to eliminate her. Isabel did not know who “they” were. Secret Catholics? Norfolk’s men? Associates of Lesley from Scotland? Whoever they were, it was no game they were playing. After two attempts to kill her, she could not doubt the seriousness of their intent.
Isabel would never betray Mary. In her view, the queen had been forced into this conspiracy by Lesley and Norfolk. Would she provide evidence that might send Mary to the block? No. Never. She would be loyal to the queen no matter what. As her own mother had never been to her.
When this man Gavin worked for, Nicholas Ryder, arrived, what would he require of her? Gavin had never demanded Mary’s secrets, just as she, Isabel, had never demanded he reveal all he knew regarding the machinations swirling about Mary, Lesley, and Norfolk. She hadn’t wanted him to. He was protecting her, and she in turn was protecting Mary.
Where would this all end? If Ryder’s purpose was simply to inform Gavin of where things stood at present, perhaps Isabel would not be required to divulge anything.
A larger question loomed. What would happen between her and Gavin?
Beyond a doubt, she loved him and wanted to spend her life with him. But did he want the same? He had not said so, even after they’d made love. Certainly, his words implied love and commitment, but he had not asked for her hand. If he did not offer marriage, what would become of her? Returning to her home in Derbyshire would be her only choice, and it was possible her mother would refuse to take her in unless she could be married off immediately. Isabel dreaded the prospect of a loveless marriage, even more so since Gavin had made her aware of what it meant to love someone with her whole heart.
There was a knock on her door, and Dorcas glided in. “Are you ready to dress, Mistress Tait?”
“I hate the thought of rising from this warm bed, but I suppose I must.” Dorcas dressed her in front of the fire and then departed, promising to return with breakfast. She left the door ajar, and Gavin peeked in.
“May I come in?”
“Good morrow.” She felt a sudden urge to throw herself into his arms. Kicking the door closed, she did just that, burrowing into his chest. The soft wool of his tightly fitting jerkin brushed against her cheek.
“What’s all this?” he asked. “I’m not complaining, mind you, but is something amiss?”
Everything. And nothing.
She raised her head, fixing her gaze on his mouth. His compellingly sensual mouth. She pulled him down for a kiss, and he came willingly. “Isabel,” he said on a groan.
Pliable lips and sweet tongue. She could go on kissing him forever. Not simply a kiss, but a secret language between th
em. Gavin drew back, they looked at each other, and she imagined her eyes were glazed, like his. He pulled her back to him, molding his body to hers. And then they heard Dorcas coming and reluctantly separated.
“Mistress Tait and I would like to dine together, Dorcas,” Gavin said. “I’ll bring my meal over here.”
“Nay, sir, you and Mistress Tait be seated at the table.” She gestured to the oak table and chairs in the window embrasure. “I’ll fetch your food.”
They did as she asked, stealing guilty glances at one another and smiling like besotted fools.
Later, they sought out Lady Anne in the withdrawing room, where Dorcas said they would find her. She sat near the tall windows with her embroidery. Looking up at their approach, she said, “Good day to you both.”
“And to you, my lady,” Gavin responded. Isabel curtsied.
“Be seated, pray. I trust you both broke your fast?”
“Aye,” Isabel said. “I have never before eaten an orange. I should be content eating one every day for the rest of my life.” It was the juiciest, most luscious fruit she’d ever tasted.
Lady Anne laughed. “They come from Sicily. Aren’t they delicious?” Setting her work aside, she said, “Tell me, if you please, are you expecting a visitor today?”
“Aye,” Gavin said. “Nicholas Ryder should be here by the evening meal. I hope that will not inconvenience you, my lady.”
“Not at all. The earl informed me we may have an extra guest for a few days. After the mummers’ performance, there will be food aplenty, and the Wassail bowl. I thought about canceling the festivities this year, but our mourning period is nearly past. For many of the local citizens, it is their only celebration during the twelve days of Christmas.
“As it appears to be a fine day, perhaps you both would enjoy exploring the grounds. Do look at the Conduit Court, the center of the castle. It’s a lovely space, although perhaps not so much in the winter. Visit the towers, the kitchens—even the dungeon, if you’d like.” At Isabel’s visible shudder, she smiled. “We haven’t had any…guests there for quite a while.”
After thanking Lady Anne, they bid her good day and left her to her sewing. Once in the passage, Isabel said, “Let’s explore indoors, then we can dress in cloaks and hats and go outside.”
“Excellent plan.” Gavin grasped her hand, and for an hour or more, beginning on the first floor, they roamed about the castle. First, the kitchens, warm and filled with tempting aromas. They passed the great hall, in which they’d dined the night before, the withdrawing room, and the lord’s dayroom, which boasted richly colored tapestries on the walls and a fire blazing in its enormous hearth.
Before venturing downstairs, Gavin steered Isabel toward the watchtower, which displayed a commanding view across the countryside. Excusing himself, he spoke to one of the guards for a few minutes. Isabel caught snatches of the conversation. Gavin was describing yesterday’s attack. “The men were not identifiable by livery. I believe they are no longer following us, but I would not rule out the possibility.”
“We will be vigilant, sir,” the guard proclaimed. “You can depend on that.”
From there, they made their way downstairs to the ground floor, where they visited the wine and beer cellars and the curing room, the strong scent of both brine and smoke tickling their noses.
Stopping by their own chambers, they dressed for the out of doors in cloaks, gloves, hats, and warm boots and collected Bisou. While they tramped over the frozen ground, Isabel’s thoughts returned to Gavin and his feelings toward her. He had such presence, and walking alongside him, she was acutely conscious of his virility. With every touch, whether to help her over a stile or tuck a stray lock of hair under her hat, a jolt of awareness shot through her. Isabel wished she had access to his mind, so she might know what he was thinking. Apparently, not about her, for he said, “I wonder if Lesley and Norfolk are being tortured.”
Involuntarily, she flinched. “I hope not. No man deserves such treatment.”
“Even the one who ordered our murder?”
“Are you so sure it was one of them?”
“Lesley himself came close to admitting it to me.” Gavin stopped and looked at her, his eyes soft. “Isabel. It is the New Year, a time of joy and celebration. Let’s not think of these matters today. Time to go inside—it’s devilishly cold out here.” The sun was already lowering, the daylight waning. In silence, they tramped past the gardens, withered and brown in the winter season, and made their way to the castle. Bisou pranced after them.
…
At the door to her chamber, Gavin said, “I’ll return in a few moments. I have a surprise for you.” He had decided not to press Isabel further, at least not today. There were so many questions he wanted—needed—answers to, but he was treading a fine line with her and didn’t wish to drive a wedge between them. By God’s light, he loved the lass. He wanted to wed her. Thinking back over everything that had transpired since Isabel’s arrival at Tutbury, he saw an endless number of half-truths and omissions regarding Queen Mary in his dealings with Isabel. If he hadn’t been forthcoming with her, how could he expect her to be open with him?
Inside his wardrobe, Gavin found the small pouch holding the necklace he’d gotten Isabel. Rubbing his fingers over the velvet, he imagined the soft skin of Isabel’s neck and smiled. For a moment, he felt an unbridled sense of joy. Before it slipped away, he crossed to her chamber and rapped lightly. Hearing nothing, he slowly pushed the door open. “Isabel? Are you there?”
“Come in, Gavin.” She was standing before the fire, Bisou curled up on the floor beside her. Natural light shone through the glazed window directly onto her, and the full force of her beauty nearly knocked him senseless. The raven hair and deep-set, dark eyes. The porcelain skin. The feminine curves hiding beneath her bodice and skirts. But her astonishing physical beauty wasn’t the reason he gasped. For the first time, he was struck by what she was within. Her sharp mind, a repository of a true depth of knowledge. Her unflagging sense of humor, even when she’d just been dunked in freezing river water. Her compassion for Mary, and for him when he’d sobbed over Simon’s death. How had it happened, when she’d been dealt nothing but unkindness, even cruelty, her whole life? How had she become such a remarkable woman?
He was quite overcome. Rather than going to her, he stood still, simply drinking her in.
“Gavin?” Her voice finally penetrated his disjointed thoughts.
“Isabel. You look so lovely standing there, with the light shining on you. It’s rather daunting, I’m afraid.”
She blushed and tried to suppress a smile. But she could not. Walking toward her, he said, “Come. Sit with me.” They lowered themselves to the small settle before the fire. “This is for you, Bel. Because you are the best of my world. The dearest person in my life.”
He held out the small velvet bag.
…
Gavin had a gift for her. Coupled with the way he’d been watching her, his eyes liquid with emotion, Isabel was overwhelmed and could only say stupidly, “For me?”
He laughed a little. “Aye. Open it.”
With trembling fingers, she pulled the drawstring and the bag fell open. Reaching inside, she drew out a necklace, a pendant on a delicate gold chain. It was exquisite, a small ruby set in a circle of gold etched with vines. Glancing up at him, she smiled. “I’ve never owned anything so beautiful.”
“Let me fasten it for you,” he said. Near tears, Isabel passed him the necklace. His hands brushed the sensitive skin at her nape, shooting little tremors through her body. Gavin pulled her to her feet, saying, “Come near the window so I can see it better.” He studied her for a time, then said, “It suits you, Isabel. Dark, vibrant colors complement your beauty.”
“Thank you, Gavin. A gift for me is rare indeed, and this one is perfect. You chose it with such care.” Her voice was shaking, and the tears she’d been relentlessly holding back began to trail down her cheeks.
And with love. She
could not put words in his mouth, though. He hadn’t said anything about loving her. “Don’t cry, sweetheart. I hoped this would make you happy.”
“Oh, be assured, it does. I shall treasure it always.”
No matter what happens.
Gavin framed her face with his hands. “I love you, Isabel. God help me, but I do.”
Not precisely the declaration of love she craved. It sounded as though he loved her against his will. Against his smarter self, standing to one side, telling him he should not.
Was it enough?
Lowering his hands, Gavin crushed her against him and kissed her lips, her cheeks, her ears, his hot breath fanning over her. Desire pooling in her belly, Isabel’s knees buckled, and he tightened his hold. He trailed kisses down her neck, and then she felt his hands at her back, unlacing her bodice. No fool, she knew where this was leading. Should she allow it? She wanted it as much as he did. An aching need for him lodged against Isabel’s heart. But should she make love with him again, when he’d said nothing about marrying her? Did she want to end up his mistress? Because Gavin didn’t seem to want her as his wife.
The decision was taken from her when a light knock sounded at the door. Guiltily, they pulled apart. “Enter,” Isabel called out.
Dorcas stepped in and bobbed a curtsy. “A Master Nicholas Ryder is here to see you, Master Cade. He is waiting in the lord’s dayroom.”
Gavin turned to Bel. “I didn’t expect him so early. How long has he been here, Dorcas?”
“He arrived while you were out walking. Said not to send anybody after you, seeing as he wanted to wash and rest.”
“Pray tell him I’ll join him shortly.”
After Dorcas left, Gavin re-laced Isabel’s bodice and then gently spun her around. “Bel, you know he will wish to speak to you as well.”
She wanted to say, “Why? I’ve nothing to tell him,” but the last thing she wanted was to argue with Gavin about Mary. She simply nodded. He left to report to Ryder, and Isabel sat by the fire, first lifting Bisou into her lap. “What am I to do, mon petit chien? What am I to do?”
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