by Julia Latham
“Take the coal and light it. You must be chilled.”
He bent, pulled the sack toward him, and removed the torches. As he lit kindling in the brazier and began to place coal above it, she used a cloth to wipe up the spilled food. He tossed her the empty coal sack to use for the refuse.
“Your true identity is not a difficult deduction,” he said at last. “How many other noblewomen with your name can be in the North Riding? And I was kidnapped after I’d sent word to Kirkby Keep that I was on my way.” He paused. “So what do you have against me? Or is it your sister who leads you?”
She sighed. Continuing to deny him would only delay the inevitable. His theories were certainly a more acceptable reason for her to imprison him. And she did not want Cicely involved. “It is my duty to protect my sister,” she said in a low voice.
“Ah.”
He sat down in his usual position, as if awaiting his meal.
“Let me see the length of the chain,” she said.
He lifted it for her, showing all its length. She pushed the tray toward him, then sat back on her heels.
“You do not eat with me?” he asked.
“It is no longer necessary. You know I do not mean to poison you.”
“Do I? Perhaps you believe that poisoning is the only way to keep me from your sister.”
Was that tension she heard in his voice, thrumming through his words, though he strove to keep his voice mild?
“If so, I would have been done with it already. After all, no one has discovered even a clue to your whereabouts.”
His smile faded. “My men are here, aren’t they?”
She cocked her head. “Believe what you will.”
“I know they would not abandon the search. I have been in here for four days now, while they comb the countryside in this weather.”
Diana found herself unable to meet his gaze. He was poking at the heart of her discomfort. “You are correct. They are loyal men.”
“Yet you’ll continue to allow them to waste their efforts. Let me go,” he said earnestly.
His brown eyes were so direct and persuasive when he wanted them to be.
He continued, “I will tell no one what you did in the mistaken attempt to protect your sister.”
“You of all people should certainly understand my motivations for your imprisonment.” She knew her voice was too silky. She was letting him get to her.
His gaze sharpened. “So that is the reason I am in here. You have heard stories of me.”
“Are you denying them?”
“I haven’t heard you speak them yet.”
“You have a terrible reputation, my lord,” she said firmly. “I do not trust you to treat my sister well.”
“Most women would simply convince their sister of that, so she could reject me by the usual methods. But not you.”
Diana continued to hold his gaze impassively. It wasn’t helping that he was partially right.
“Nay, you are a woman who has been trained to defend herself,” Bannaster continued thoughtfully. “Such a woman might respond like a man, protecting her sister with force. How did you manage to imprison me by yourself?”
“It was not difficult, my lord,” she said coolly. “You were lured easily by the promise of a woman’s bed.”
“Of course, you were not alone.”
“And then you were careless.”
“Not anymore,” he said, tossing her a loaf of bread. “Take a bite.”
She tossed it back. “Then eat it not. ’Tis your choice. But I, too, have learned from my mistakes.”
He leaned back on his hands with a casualness that she suspected was feigned.
“I imagine you have learned,” he said. “After all, I almost had my hands on those keys of yours. And although I did not manage that, I still had you in my arms.”
Diana stiffened, feeling suddenly warm, even in the cold dungeon. “But not for long, my lord.”
“Nay, that is true. But long enough. I liked the feel of your body, long and firm—and powerful.”
“Powerful enough to defeat you.” She let her gaze rake him. “And you wonder why I do not feel that you are worthy of my sister.”
He laughed. “I haven’t even met her yet, nor declared myself to her. Should I not notice a woman when I’m holding her?”
She stood up. “Enjoy your solitary meal, my lord.”
He rose to his feet, taller than she. “How long can you keep this up, Diana? What do you think you can possibly do with me, other than release me?”
His words pounded at her insecurities. Of course he was right.
“I shall think of something.” She whirled away and strode to the door.
Tom had known that timing would be everything. He did not want to alert her by jingling the chain too soon. But as she pulled the door shut behind her, he already had his belt buckle in his hand, and he raced forward as silently as possible, but for the faint sound of the shackle falling from his ankle. He shoved the flat piece of metal into the doorframe, blocking the lock. He knew she’d been having difficulty locking and unlocking the door.
He flattened himself against the wall, listening to her turning the key in the door and hearing it jam. He closed his eyes and waited, counting on the fact that she thought him chained to the wall. He heard her groan, and then a delicate curse, before her brisk footsteps faded away.
Tom waited, wondering if she would come right back, perhaps with a servant in tow. He might have been able to escape in just that small space of time, but he had plans for Diana Winslow. He would exercise patience.
Chapter 6
Tom waited an hour before making his move, and during that time, Diana did not return. He was already wearing his traveling jerkin and breeches, which were now so filthy as to mask the fine quality of the fabric, so he would blend in well enough with the castle servants. His hat was too elaborate, so he rooted through the saddlebag for the coif he usually wore beneath his helm, and pulled it over his head. It hung down beyond his ears, disguising his hair. No one would know him, except his own men and Diana, none of whom he planned to approach. If he were careful, he thought he could remain unseen, and find out what was really going on at Kirkby Keep.
He pulled open the door, walked out and closed it behind him with deep satisfaction. He was in a narrow corridor with stairs leading up. He ascended until he reached a door. He opened it only a crack, and with the darkness of a winter’s evening, he could see nothing but the meager glow from the occasional torch. A light layer of snow covered the ground. The air smelled so cold and fresh after the coal-tinged air of the cell, that he inhaled deeply and with gratitude.
He moved slowly around the tower and paused to get his bearings. To his surprise, torches illuminated a breach in the castle wall, which was still filled with fallen rubble. He passed the stables, for he could hear the quiet sounds of horses in the night, and men speaking softly to them. He wondered if his own horse was there, but doubted it. How would Diana explain the acquisition of a new animal, especially one with such extensive training as to be an expensive purchase?
He saw the gatehouse built into the wall and realized that the portcullis was raised, and that anyone could pass through, if they could dispose of the guards. He thought he would feel more like fleeing, after spending days in a dungeon, and now having freedom so near. But the Winslow sisters were a puzzle, and he could not let it go unsolved. And the king had sent him here. Maybe there had been another reason.
The keep itself was built out from one curtain wall, three stories high, he estimated. Torches ringed the wall itself, and men stood on guard to watch over the breaches. But on a winter night, there would be little to guard against.
Tom moved back toward the stable, then turned as if he’d just left that building and was headed across the ward to the keep. No soldiers questioned him, and he was able to ascend the stairs behind two men who reeled drunkenly, as if they’d been out searching for a privy. They opened one of the great double door
s and Tom stepped in behind them, staying near the shelter of their backs. Though no castle was truly warm in winter, a fire roared in the hearth, and he shivered as if shaking off the perpetual chill of the last few weeks of travel and then imprisonment.
There were dozens of people inside, and the sound of laughter and cheerful voices. He saw no sign of his own men, and for that he was grateful. He didn’t want to be noticed just yet. Several trestle tables remained in place, and were the setting for games of Tables. Little groups of spectators watched at each as the players moved their pieces along the game board. Tom stood beside the closest table to the door, trying to keep away from the center of the hall.
He saw Diana almost at once. She was standing near the hearth, engaged in conversation with several men. She gestured as she spoke with diligence, a woman sure of her power. If her brother had not arrived at Kirkby Keep—and it was highly unlikely—then he assumed she was in control of the household as the eldest sister. The men listened with respect, and one pointed something out, causing them all to burst into laughter.
Tom couldn’t take his eyes off Diana. Her face came alive with merriment, showing white teeth as she laughed. No missish simpering for her, only the bold laughter of a strong woman. Nothing covered her hair, and though it was drawn back at her neck, it moved and shimmered like golden silk.
Shouldn’t she feel guilty? he wondered, anger pooling in his gut. For all she knew, he was alone in a dungeon in winter, while she was here, enjoying the warmth and camaraderie of a winter’s evening with friends.
Before he’d known who she was, he’d played into her hands talking about his days training as a priest, and about his brother’s murder. She had wanted to judge him for his past, for his mistakes, to prove to herself that she was justified in holding him captive.
He was watching her face so intently that he noticed the slight darkening of her expression as she glanced toward the staircase. Tom followed her line of sight and saw a beautiful woman descending, wearing a blue gown that set off the brilliance of her blond hair. Her face had the purity and serenity of a Madonna painting, with its pale cream complexion and delicate features. It was surely Cicely Winslow. King Henry had not exaggerated when he’d proclaimed her a beauty.
But why did Diana look so guarded at Cicely’s arrival? Wasn’t this the beloved sister she was trying to protect, whose very purity would be sullied by a crude man like Tom?
Cicely ignored Diana and glided gracefully to a group of women seated together as they sewed or embroidered. She touched one woman’s shoulder, smiled at another, said something to a third, and they all laughed together.
Tom had spent so much of his childhood on the outside, not even permitted to look at women, that now he always indulged himself. And Cicely was enjoyable to look at. How would it be to have a wife like that, so elegantly beautiful, surrounded by her sweet ladies?
But his gaze kept sliding back to Diana. She did not join the other women, but remained with the men, listening with intensity, gesturing occasionally as she spoke, then giving that smile that seemed so rare.
A cheer erupted from the table he was standing by as someone won the game. Tom slid farther into a shadow to escape notice. The next challenger sat down, the onlookers resettled themselves, and Tom’s tension eased enough to let him look back at the Winslow sisters.
Cicely had left her ladies and walked smoothly toward the minstrels. One man strummed a lute, and the other played a pipe. Instead of waiting for the song to be done, Cicely stepped right up to them and motioned for their attention. Though a dozen people were dancing, the minstrels obediently ceased to play and looked up at Cicely expectantly. Tom wondered if an announcement was pending, but since she spoke softly, he could not hear. They began another song, Cicely motioned to her ladies, and another dance commenced.
The previous dancers backed away as if on cue, and more than one face showed the briefest look of resignation or irritation before turning away.
Curious, Tom glanced again at Diana, who had missed nothing. Her eyes were narrowed as they studied her sister, and she shook her head as she turned away.
To his surprise, he thought Cicely glanced at her sister with…satisfaction. Was this some sort of game between the sisters, and they didn’t care who got in between them?
But Diana didn’t respond in any way, only went back to her discussion.
“Pardon me, sir?” said a man to Tom’s left.
Tom gave a start and turned to see a short, broad man who openly studied him. Tom wasn’t sure what he’d do if he were discovered, because he wasn’t ready to leave the castle yet.
“Aye, milord?” Tom said, knowing that the man did not look like a nobleman, but hoping to confuse him.
The man cleared his throat. “’Tis clear ye’re a stranger here, and we don’t get many of those.”
“I’m Tom, milord. I’m a traveler passing through, grateful for the food and warmth for a night.”
The other man nodded. “That’s our Mistress Diana, always carin’ for folks.”
Tom noticed that the man did not question which sister would give a traveler respite.
“I never saw the mistress,” Tom said. “Is that her dancin’?”
“Nay, ’tis her sister, Mistress Cicely. Mistress Diana is the woman standin’ near the hearth.”
Tom nodded, glancing between both sisters as if curious.
“Surely ye can see the shared hair color,” the other man said, then snorted. “’Tis about all they share.”
“Do they not have a brother?”
“Aye, the baron. This is not his home castle, so he is seldom here.”
“Surely this is where those lovely ladies were raised. They be so at ease here.”
The man shook his head. “’Tis no secret I’m revealin’ to say that the mistresses only came here a few years ago, sent away from their brother. I heard that the new baroness be jealous of Mistress Cicely’s beauty, but as for Mistress Diana, who came here first, there is something bad betwixt she and her brother. ’Tis a shame, too.” He clapped a hand on Tom’s shoulder. “If ye need another ale, I’ll tell you who to see. I’m Hatton, Kirkby’s blacksmith.”
“A fine evenin’ to you, sir,” Tom said, bobbing his head.
Hatton turned back to watch the game, and Tom didn’t want to draw attention to himself by seeming too curious about the sisters. Cicely did not seem very well liked. The woman was all smiles as she glided through the steps of the dance, moving in a circle between the other dancers. Even knowing what he now knew, Tom could feel the pull of her beauty.
Yet she was not married. It made him wonder. Diana was a year older, he remembered, and she, too, had no husband. Did their brother not wish to ally himself with other families?
At last the dance was over, and to Tom’s surprise, Cicely walked toward the tables where the game boards had been set up. He didn’t mind seeing her close up—
Until he realized that while he’d been studying Cicely, Diana had approached and began to play at the next table. Tom quickly turned his back, grabbed the nearest tankard of ale, and lifted it to his mouth to obscure his face.
He could hear Diana’s voice now. Gone was that quiet tone she’d used with him to prove her status as servant. She spoke with casual authority. Tom was able to hang back, yet see between the various watchers to catch glimpses of her face. Aye, she was intelligent, and he was reluctantly impressed by the visible change in her behavior. She seemed to deal with people directly. What would they all think if they knew she’d imprisoned a man in her dungeon?
And who here had assisted her, he wondered, looking around at all the laughing faces. At least one other woman had helped Diana drug him and take him a half-day’s journey from Richmond. What man here did his mistress’s bidding?
He noticed that Diana won a game as she nodded gracefully to acknowledge the applause.
Cicely was watching her sister with a feline speculation. “Few men here can best you at this game, my sister.�
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“I have practiced many years,” Diana answered simply.
“Perhaps Lord Bannaster will succeed where others fail.”
Tom was so surprised to hear his name on the fair Cicely’s lips, that he almost missed Diana’s faintly shuttered expression. But all she did was give a brief nod of her head.
One of Cicely’s maidens had approached, and she plaintively said, “Where is this viscount, Cicely? You thought he would be here days ago.”
“His men will find him,” Cicely said with conviction. “He is surely injured, else he would have been here.”
“But the snow—”
Diana rose. “My sister shares your fears, Edith. We will surely hear from the viscount when the weather eases. The roads are treacherous, and he is from the warmer south. He might be waiting for the passage to ease, wherever he is.”
For one moment, Tom wanted to step forward, to reclaim his identity. Diana was holding him captive, telling lies about him, digging herself in deeper with her sister and her people. How could she imagine it would end?
Yet he saw the respect her people accorded her, which they evidently did not feel for her sister.
There was something deeper going on here. Diana had claimed that her entire reason for capturing him was to protect her sister—a sister who seemed distant from her. But of course, that did not mean she wouldn’t still take care of a member of her family.
Or was Diana deliberately keeping him from Cicely, out of spite?
He needed answers, and the only way he was going to get them was to keep control over Diana Winslow, staying one step ahead of her. He would not turn her household against her by proclaiming what she’d done, not until he knew how his announcement would be taken.
At last Diana left the table, spoke a few words to the same man she’d conversed with earlier—the steward?—and ascended the stairs to the next level. Tom watched Cicely’s face, saw the anger and frustration she didn’t bother to hide as she watched her sister’s departure.
When the next game of Tables began, and two soldiers headed for the inner ward, Tom left with them, hanging back once they were outdoors. Their voices faded and Tom was left alone in the cold. The wind took his breath, and he deliberately staggered for the benefit of anyone watching him, as if he’d had too much to drink.
