“You wouldn’t dare!”
He gave her a mocking bow, then slammed the door shut.
The sound of the key grated in the room.
Fia sank to the floor, despair filling her. “What will I do?” she whispered. “What will I ever do?”
Chapter Twenty-five
A shaft of sunlight streamed directly into Thomas’s face, the bright light blinding him. He groaned and closed his eyes against the glare, vaguely aware he lay atop a sack of grain in his own storehouse.
“Oh-ho! It awakes!” Robert announced.
Agony pounded through Thomas’s skull. The memory of the previous night wavered to the fore. Clamping his jaws against a wave of nausea, he struggled upright.
Fia. The pain left him panting and retching. How could she? How could she? The thought echoed over and over.
“Easy, Thomas,” Robert murmured, handing Thomas a rough cloth that had been hung on a peg by the door.
Thomas gratefully wiped his face, squinting against the sun. ’Twas a beautiful day, and he cursed every gleaming beam, twittering bird, and dewy morning flower.
Robert shook his head. “The Earl of Rotherwood, most fortunate of men, asleep atop sacks of moldy grain. You have come to a sad pass, mon ami. You are fortunate that Cook sent a boy for some wheat this morning or no one would know you were here.”
It pained Thomas too much to glare. “I feel as if I died sometime last week,” he muttered through the foul taste in his mouth. He peered into the gloom and found his mug on the floor behind him. Grabbing it up, he gulped the remaining whiskey, welcoming the acrid burn.
“Similia similibus curatur,” Robert murmured.
“Aye,” Thomas grumbled. “Hair of the dog. A foul cure for a foul illness.” He wished he could just vomit and be done with it. He stood and slowly made his way to a pail of water that stood by the door.
“I planned on dumping that on your head, but you awoke before I could do so.”
Thomas regarded Robert sourly. “And you call yourself a friend?”
Robert quirked a cool brow. “You are fortunate I didn’t do more. Your behavior is unacceptable. I tell you this as a friend.”
Thomas rinsed his mouth and then dumped the rest of the water over his head.
“A foul illness for a foul temper,” Robert returned.
Thomas dried himself with the rough cloth, wondering if anyone had brought Fia her breakfast. The idea of her locked in her room was painful; the thought of her going hungry was agony.
He immediately pushed the traitorous feelings aside. It would serve her right to miss a few meals. It would serve her even better if he locked her up for the rest of eternity, as he’d threatened.
But he knew it had been an empty threat. He covered his eyes wearily. He should send her away and be done. Duncan would take her back, and Thomas would be free to return to his life as it was before he had met that saucy, conniving little thief. His life would be orderly, with no unexpected twists and turns.
The thought ripped new agonies in his chest. He could no more send her away than he could cut off his own arm. Pressing his hand against the ache in his chest, he wondered if he should take her to his estates in Northumberland until he could decide how best to deal with her. Time would lessen the hold she had on him. It must.
He leaned his forehead against the cool wall and tried to force his swollen brain to reason.
Robert sat on a barrel. “I spoke with Mary. ’Twas difficult to hear through the locked door, but we managed well enough.”
Thomas closed his eyes.
“She says she and Angus are confined by your orders. I hear Fia is also locked away.” He waited for Thomas to respond, then asked, “You trust Walsingham before you trust Fia?”
“I do now,” said Thomas shortly, wishing Robert would have the decency to at least lower his voice.
“Had I known what you were about, I wouldn’t have spent near an entire evening tracking a certain fat, bumbling oaf to his filthy lodgings in an effort to discover the truth.”
“Robert, let it go. There is nothing more to be said. She lied to me,” he whispered.
Robert bared his teeth. “You know, mon ami, I never before realized how greatly you resemble your father at times. It ill becomes you.”
“My father was right. Look where trusting has put me.”
“How can you speak of trust when you locked away a beauteous maid who has done nothing but love you and honor you? When you take the word of that spineless maggot Walsingham over the word of your own wife?”
Thomas rubbed his forehead. “My head aches.”
“Because it is filled with rocks,” Robert said coldly. “She loves you. It shines from her every time you enter a room, though you are too blind to see it.”
“I have never known love,” Thomas scoffed, wondering how anyone could bear the pain.
“You do. You were a man changed this past month.”
“Whatever I felt for Fia is no more. It must be so.”
“I can’t believe you! You meet with the most incredible good fortune! You find a woman made for you, a woman who loves you, and you throw it away. You—”
“Silence!” Thomas roared, shuddering as the echo pounded through his head. “I will hear no more.”
“Sod you and your festering anger! I have tried to help, to be a friend when no one else would.” Robert stood and stiffly turned toward the door. “I have wasted my time.”
“Nay, you have not,” Thomas said dully, rubbing his neck with an unsteady hand. “I am a lost cause, Robert.”
Robert leveled a steady gaze at him. “No one is a lost cause, mon ami. You showed me that.”
“Then I was wrong. Before you leave, see to it Fia is fed well. Take Mary to her.” He drew a shuddering breath. Somehow he would find a way through this agonizing madness.
Robert’s face lit up. “Oh-ho! So you can’t even bear for her to miss a meal. There is hope for you yet.” He returned to his barrel and leaned forward. “Listen to me. You should know this: Walsingham—”
“Let it die, Robert. Walsingham told the truth.”
“Some of it was true. But as usual, he didn’t tell you all.”
Thomas stilled. “You’ve mistrusted Walsingham from the start. What would he have to gain by telling such a foul tale about himself?”
“Lying is mother’s milk to that pox-ridden pig’s bladder. There was a deal between Walsingham and MacLean, but neither you nor Fia knew of it. You were both manipulated. MacLean deliberately chose Malcolm the Maiden as a bridegroom, counting on Fia taking action, enlisting you to help her escape.”
Thomas took a deep breath. Sweet Jesu, what if Fia . . . He refused to finish the thought. “Who told you?” he asked harshly.
“Goliath. Since he sits so near the door, I thought he probably heard many interesting things, and I was right.”
“What else have you learned?”
“Goliath overheard all of the negotiations between MacLean and Walsingham. One part of the bargain was that Fia was never to know.”
Suddenly, the memory of MacLean saying to Fia that he’d done what he could to help her, to keep her safe, flashed through Thomas’s brain. She didn’t know.
Joy, pure and sweet, coursed through his blood. Walsingham had used him, sold him, but Fia was blameless.
“She’s innocent,” he said wonderingly.
“Aye.” Robert crossed his arms. “A pity she’s locked away in her room, else she could breakfast with us in celebration.”
Guilt hit Thomas and he sagged against the wall, seeing Fia’s pale, desperate face. “God’s wounds,” he whispered. “I accused her of so much.”
Robert frowned. “Surely you said nothing that can’t be unsaid. Once she realizes how Walsingham used you—”
“She tried to tell me, but I wouldn’t listen.” He could barely stand, remembering the anguish he had seen in Fia’s eyes. He needed to go to her, to tell her what happened, explain everything.
“Good!” Robert said. “Go on bended knee. Surely she will listen if you woo her with flowers and sonnets.”
Thomas looked around the room. He couldn’t afford to think what he would do if he had killed Fia’s love. “There was a key . . .”
Robert slid his hand into his pocket and withdrew it. A large iron key lay in his palm. “’Twas on the floor.” His eyes were somber. “Was it so necessary?”
“She would have left,” Thomas said. “Even furious, I couldn’t let her.”
“You love her,” Robert said quietly.
Thomas took a deep breath and held out a hand. “Give it to me.”
Robert idly swung the key on one finger. “Perhaps I should release the sweet Fia and assist her in escaping such a tyrant.”
“Do, and I will kill you,” Thomas growled. “Sweet Jesu, Robert—if Goliath speaks the truth, we don’t know anything of what Walsingham is about.”
“I have been saying the same to you these past five years and you would have none of it. ’Tis time you saw the dark side of that conniver.”
“Nay, I knew of it. His motives were to strengthen England, as were mine.” Thomas closed his empty hands into fists. “But there is a limit. I will not have him near Fia. After I have released her, we will find him and explain how things will be.” He stared at his fists, trying to grasp some elusive fact, some cloaked truth that lingered just out of sight. He raised his head and looked at Robert. “Why did Walsingham say Fia was involved in the trade if she wasn’t?”
Robert’s brows lowered. “Does he need a reason? He makes mischief to amuse himself.”
“Nay, everything Walsingham does is for a purpose, usually cloaked in some intrigue to benefit Elizabeth. He told me Fia was involved to gain something.” He walked to the window and stared out. What is the old fox trying to accomplish now?
“Perhaps,” Robert said slowly, “he told such vile lies because he thought he knew how you would react.”
“Like my father.”
“Aye. And never again speak to her or of her.” Robert smirked. “He didn’t know you cannot even bear to see her miss her breakfast.”
Thomas rubbed his forehead. “I am weaker than he thought.”
“Nay, you are infinitely stronger. Love requires strength of mind and spirit, mon ami. You have both.” Robert frowned. “But why did he try to break you from her? What purpose does he have?”
“That’s what we must discover.” Thomas held out his hand for the key.
“Release her quickly, mon ami. Fia is not the type of damsel to languish in a tower.”
Thomas closed his hand around the cold metal. “I’ll release her now and—”
A long wail rose through the morning air and then dropped into whimpering silence. Thomas locked gazes with Robert.
Zeus.
A stab of fear ripped through Thomas. He grabbed the key and his boots, and raced outside and across the courtyard, his bare feet cold on the hard stones. He took the stairs two at a time and soon slid to a halt in front of Fia’s door.
The horrible moan rose again. Thomas dropped his boots outside his bedchamber door and unlocked it with hands that fumbled in haste.
The room seemed cold, empty. Trailing from the bed, knotted end to end, were the bed curtains. The makeshift rope trailed to the open window and disappeared over the sill.
Zeus sat staring out the window, his face mournful. Nose quivering, the brown rabbit regarded him from the bed.
Fia was gone.
Thomas’s throat tightened in fear. He crossed to the window and leaned over the edge. No broken body lay in the garden. A heavy sigh of relief escaped him, and he sagged against the windowsill.
“What’s happened?” Robert spoke at his shoulder.
“She escaped.” He was amazed he sounded so calm, for his heart was lodged in his throat.
“What?” Robert leaned over the sill, then turned a stern face to Thomas. “Damn your temper!”
Thomas stared blindly at the sky, his brow creased in concentration. “Where is she? We must think; she—”
Below them, a servant appeared carrying a basket.
Robert leaned out the window. “Hold!”
The man halted and looked up, shading his eyes with his hand.
“Have you seen the countess this morn?”
The servant shook his head. “Nay, yer lordship. I jes’ . . .” he trailed off as he noted the makeshift rope hanging from the window, his mouth gaping in surprise.
Thomas pushed Robert out of the way. “Go on, man! What did you see?”
“I’ve been picking apples here in the garden all mornin’, yer lordship, and I ne’er saw hide nor hair of the lady.”
“Did you leave at any time?”
“Only when th’ basket was filled. I was gone but a moment.”
“When was that?”
“About a half an hour ago, yer lordship. It couldn’t have been more’n that.”
Thomas felt a stirring of hope. “Then she can’t be far.”
“Or perhaps she was long gone before this man arrived in the garden. We’ve no way of knowing,” Robert said.
“Pardon me, yer lordship,” the servant said eagerly, “but I did hear of two horses missin’ from the stables jus’ ten minutes ago.”
“Which horses?”
The man scrubbed at his ear. “That be the strangest thing. Of all the horses in the stables, the thieves took a pretty mare, a large bay, and then the ugliest and meanest horse alive.” He held up his hand. “The blasted thing bit me yesterday.”
Thunder. Thomas nodded his thanks, then strode to the door, grabbed up his boots, and tugged them on.
Robert leaned against the bedpost. “She doesn’t know anyone in London.”
“Nay, she is alone.” Alone and lost, looking for God knew what.
A cold, wet nose nudged his hand. Thomas looked into Zeus’s eyes and rubbed the dog’s good ear. “We’ll find her, Zeus, I promise. She couldn’t have just . . .” His voice trailed off.
Wherever she was, he would bet she was concocting a plan to overcome Walsingham’s scheme. A thought settled. Sweet Jesu, surely she wouldn’t . . .
He looked at Robert. “Go see if Mary and Angus are still locked in their quarters.”
“You think she took them with her?”
“Aye, which is why she needed three horses. If she’s gone to do what I think she has, she’ll need their help. I only pray it is enough.”
Robert’s eyes widened. “Walsingham,” he breathed. “Good God, she’s gone after Walsingham.”
Chapter Twenty-six
I’ve come to see Letty,” Fia announced. Garbed in a coarse brown dress that reeked of stale onions, she looked like one of the dubious patrons of the tavern.
Beady eyes glared at her. “Letty’ll not see th’ likes o’ ye.” The giant stuffed a huge slab of meat into his mouth, red juice dripping onto his stained shirt.
Fia repressed a shudder. A play. ’Tis just a play. Across the room she caught Mary’s frown and shook her head. She could deal with this. “Tell Letty I’ve somethin’ of hers she’ll be wantin’.”
The guard removed a cleaned bone from his mouth, wiping away the grease with a dirty sleeve. “Ye do, do ye? Suppose ye tell me what ye have t’ sell?” His little eyes lingered appreciatively on her low neckline.
Fia crossed her arms. The dirty gown lacked fastening of any kind, and the stained leather girdle did little more than push her breasts up into the ragged opening. Perhaps trading her new gown and cloak for this garment hadn’t been such a masterstroke after all.
But it was too late to think of that. It was too late to think of a lot of things. She was committed to this venture, however it turned out. At least she had had the forethought to bring Mary and Angus with her.
Mary wan
ted to charge up to Walsingham’s fine house and demand the truth. Fortunately, Angus had known about the tavern. “’Tis a fittin’ location fer such vermin.”
“How do you know of it?”
“The laird told me. He said to go there and ask fer ‘Letty’ if we ever needed to return to Scotland.”
Now Mary sat by the door, keeping her eye on their horses and ready to run for help should anything go awry. Angus stood stoically by Fia, one hand resting on his claymore.
Looking at Goliath, Fia was glad for their presence. She forced herself to grin. “Well, now, I might have a lot to sell. Ye ne’er can tell. Me name is Kate.” She reached out and squeezed his arm. “Fine an’ brawny, ye are, like a bull. And what be yer name?”
“Most calls me Goliath. I am very strong,” he replied with pride. Throwing the bone over his shoulder, he flexed a massive arm.
“My! What an arm ye have!” Fia wondered to see the giant grinning like a lad.
“I can lift three barrels at once.” He beamed at her. “I bet I can lift a lil’ wench like ye wi’ but one finger.” Goliath reached out with hands the size of platters.
Angus stirred uneasily as Fia skipped out of the way. “Not ’til I’ve seen Letty, ye don’t.” She lowered her lids, hoping she could keep this lumbering romancer at a distance without resorting to her knife. “Perhaps afterward, if yer still of a mind, I could be persuaded to serve ye.”
“Ye can’t git in. Ye might as well spend the time wi’ me.”
“I might, if ye’ve got the proper coin,” Fia replied, noting with relief the dimming of his enthusiasm.
“I has t’ pay, do I? How much?”
How much? Fia blinked. She wondered what Kate was worth for a brief pleasuring.
She was still involved in her calculations when Goliath leaned closer to rumble in her ear, “Ye know, Kate, I could get ye in to see Letty if ye were nice wi’ me.” His foul breath seeped through the gaps in his lecherous grin.
“Goliath, let the chit be.” Fia turned and met the green gaze of a tavern maid. The woman held a mug of ale in one hand, the other resting on her hip as she surveyed Fia from head to foot, her critical eyes assessing every detail.
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