Three Dog Knight. Tori Phillips

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СКАЧАТЬ gulped. “I do not lie, my lady,” she gibbered. “And all your jewels are safe and sound in your coffer. I swear by the cross, ‘tis true.” Two large tears rolled down her moon-calf face. “Please, my lady, do not turn me out. I have done ye no harm.” She threw her apron over her head, and began to wail in earnest.

      “Peace, you fool. Leave off your tears, and listen.” When Meg’s sobs subsided, Isabel continued. “I tell you, I am pregnant by my Lord William, and none shall gainsay it. Do you mark me?”

      The maid nodded. “Aye, my lady. You are with child.”

      Isabel smiled her satisfaction. She nurtured her little seed of deception. “I beg you not to mention this news in the kitchen, Meg. I have not yet told Sir Thomas. I have only just discovered it myself.” “Aye, I give you my word, my lady.” Ha! A vow as strong as water. By morning, the whole castle will know of the new heir. Now to seal the falsehood. Isabel stretched, then yawned. “By my troth, I have a most marvelous craving for some sweetened cream and wafers. Do fetch me a bowlful, Meg. I feel I must have it or die.”

      “Aye, my lady.” The silly maid all but flew to the chamber door. “I will bring you the sweets in a trice.”

      Isabel held up her hand. “And mind you, not a word of my condition to anyone.”

      “My life upon it, my lady!”

      Isabel laughed softly to herself as she listened to Meg’s footsteps tripping down the passageway. She rubbed her stomach. It was true that her womb was empty. Isabel furrowed her brows. Nine years in bed with lusty William, and not even a miscarriage to show for it. Her father, the Earl of Bedford, had an army of children by Isabel’s late mother. Even now, he filled the nursery with more puling waifs by his poor second wife. With such a sire, how could Isabel possibly be barren? She pushed away the very idea. It must have been William’s fault.

      No matter. She would get herself with child—and soon. She could be forgiven if the babe came a little later than expected. Thomas might know to the day when his bitch would whelp, but he had no idea of human female matters. He would believe anything she told him. His honor would force him to keep her at Wolf Hall—and, with the right prodding, his honor would convince him to marry her. The Cavendish heir must have a Cavendish father.

      Isabel kicked off her slippers, then stretched out her toes to the warmth of the fire. Tomorrow, she would send a message to the Archbishop of York for a dispensation. Better to start the proceedings now. Ecclesiastical matters took a such long time. She sighed. I must plant an heir. She licked her lips as she thought of Launce, a groom whom she had seduced several months ago. Tall, sturdy and blond—like his Cavendish master, he swived well. The begetting would be fun in the bargain.

      Isabel would lie with Launce on the morrow. She wiggled her toes at the pleasurable prospect.

      The late-summer sun lingered in the western sky as Thomas led Alicia into the high-walled garden in the lee of the castle. She breathed in the familiar aromas of new-turned earth, roses in full bloom, and sun-warmed mint. Gillyflowers in pinks and whites, purple-headed irises, nodding, golden-eyed daisies and the ordered rows of the herb garden caught her by surprise.

      “Your garden is lovely, and very well cared for, my lord. Isabel did not strike me as a gardener.”

      “She is not,” he replied in a brusque manner. “‘Tis Mary’s.”

      Alicia’s eyes widened. “Your little sister? I am amazed. She is so young, yet she has a skillful hand.”

      Thomas sighed. “Mary is young and old at the same time. She—” He stopped, looked at Alicia, then said nothing. Instead, he stared at his polished boots.

      He can speak wisely, yet he chooses not to. Alicia thanked assorted saints in heaven for her conversation with Mary this afternoon. The girl had a good eye for the people around her.

      Thomas withdrew his fingertips from her elbow, and clasped his hands behind his back. Alicia tried not to show her disappointment. She had been heartened by his undivided, though silent, attention during supper, and by his surprising rebuke of his sister-in-law. She hoped that this walk would initiate a discussion of their marriage. Yet Thomas acted as if her presence displeased him. She swallowed down her fear. At least, he had not sent her away. Pray God, he would honor his betrothal contract.

      Alicia forced a smile to her lips. “The evening is my favorite time of day,” she said by way of making small talk. “Everything is at peace with itself.”

      Thomas merely rumbled in his throat.

      She ran her tongue across her dry lips, and continued the one-sided conversation in a bright manner. “Your sister must have a rare gift with growing things. The flowers are much larger than the ones my moth…my mother grew in her garden in York.” She must not think of her abandoned home. The pain of parting hurt too much.

      “Aye,” Thomas muttered.

      Alicia wondered what his deep voice would sound like when he whispered sweet words of love into a maiden’s ear. Her cheeks grew warm at the thought. Please, sweet Saint Anne, let him fall in love with me—or, at least, let him like me, just a little bit. She could not bear the thought of living the rest of her life without the comfort of love. The Bramptons had given her their fullest measure of affection during her childhood.

      Just then Georgie brushed past them. He sniffed along the path of crushed oyster shells until he came to a spot under a thickly flowering pink rosebush. He began to dig; the flying dirt just missed Alicia’s skirts.

      Thomas snapped his fingers twice. Georgie stopped his frantic activity, and gave them a look of reproach.

      “Your pardon, Mistress Alicia. Did he foul your clothing?” Thomas reached out as if to brush away an offending clod of mud. Then he balled his fist, and jammed his hand behind his back again. He rocked back and forth on his heels, while he stared at a spot over her head.

      He is afraid to touch me. Alicia found herself inordinately pleased with that possibility. He must respect me, even a little bit. Aloud, she remarked, “Nay, Georgie’s aim was off the mark. Pray, what is he digging for? A badger or a hare?”

      Thomas chuckled. The sound sung in her ears.

      “Nay, Georgie’s hunting days are past, I fear, though he does not know it yet. He buries his bones from the table scraps in the garden. Mary is at sixes and sevens over this little habit.”

      “Mayhap, Georgie hopes to grow a bone tree, and so never have to beg for scraps again,” Alicia ventured.

      Thomas laughed deep in his throat The unexpected sound caught Alicia by surprise. She must try to get him to laugh again, and often. She suspected he was not used to expressing his mirth in such an open fashion, thanks to his older brother’s torments during his childhood.

      “Your little greyhound—do you know when she will deliver?”

      “In a week’s time, or thereabouts.”

      Alicia regarded Vixen. She noted how the sleek animal kept close to Thomas. “She is a beautiful creature. Did her other puppies look like honey as well?”

      Thomas stared at Alicia, lifting his thick brows in surprise. “Very few look anything like their mother. I fear Vixen is too free with her favors. I never know who is the father until she whelps.” СКАЧАТЬ