Secrets Of The Knight

by Julia Latham

  “But I wasn’t a maidservant. If I would have stayed and accepted the blame, I probably could have made them see—”

  “They would have at least imprisoned you, demanded that the king see to your fate. You would have been ruined, your family shamed.”

  She covered her face with her hands. “Instead you were shamed. And when you arrived here, I panicked. I thought you had discovered my identity. And how could I have allowed you to court my sister, when I had killed your brother?”

  Had he been wrong about everything, about the League? If her reasons for kidnapping him had really been so personal, then the League had never been involved.

  “Nay, this does not make sense,” he finally said. “Everyone knew what my brother was like. I would have understood what you’d done; I would have helped you.”

  “How could I have known that?” she demanded. “I was frightened and not thinking clearly. And you know how impulsive I can be—our relationship is fraught with the mistakes I’ve made when I didn’t take the time to think things through.”

  He advanced on her until she was forced to back up against the bed instead of retreating farther. “Diana, you are not telling me everything. I do not believe that a young girl of—what, seventeen?—could have taken it upon herself to travel across the country alone, disguised herself and risked her life for women she’d never met before.”

  “You know what I am like!”

  She spoke with heat—and too much desperation.

  “Aye, I know. I know you’re a talented woman who first showed her skills at a public tournament. Was that when the League contacted you?”

  She betrayed not a single emotion but confusion. Oh, she was good at lying.

  “What are you talking about?” she asked. “Why are you bringing up something that is only a legend?”

  “We both know it’s not a legend. I worked with them just this year. I know they come when justice has been denied, when nothing can be done to stop the powerful from hurting the weak. You with your skills would appeal to them. A woman—a Bladeswoman—would be perfect to place within my brother’s household. A maidservant would never be suspected of having plans against a viscount. But I do not believe your assignment was to kill him.”

  She said nothing, but this time he saw the fleeting emotions in her eyes, the panic, the sadness, the secretiveness that made him wonder if he would ever know everything about her, if she would ever trust him. He thought she would have fled if he hadn’t trapped her up against her tall bed, where she’d have to touch him to escape.

  He stepped back. “I shall speak with Mary. She was one of the maidservants, was she not? And that girl who was just here. I recognize her, too.”

  “Do not involve them,” she said between clenched teeth. “They are innocent. Even after what your brother did to them, they are still innocent.”

  It was his turn to remember the pain of helplessness and betrayal, all his conflicting emotions about his brother. “I won’t hurt them. I am glad you have taken such good care of them. But I need the truth.”

  “Damn you, Tom, can you not leave it alone? This is none of your—” She broke off.

  “None of my affair? Is that what you meant to say? My brother made it my affair, long ago.”

  She groaned. “Yes, yes, you are right about everything. I am a Bladeswoman, and I was assigned to persuade your maidservants to rise up against your brother, to convince the local sheriff that terrible things were going on. If your brother was taken to task by men more powerful then he, even the law court, he could have been stopped.”

  “But it didn’t happen that way,” he said softly.

  Diana was swamped with the regrets of her past. There were so many of them. She didn’t see Tom or her bedchamber, but Mary’s tearful face as she ran from the viscount, the white, pinched expressions of the maidservants as they scurried from duty to duty at Castle Bannaster, always wondering when it would be their turn to have the viscount’s attention.

  Softly, she said, “I have spent these six years telling myself that I had made the only decision I could, that those women were safe now.”

  “You cannot possibly think I would have wished you to allow yourself to be raped.”

  She glanced at him in surprise. “Perhaps not, but there must have been many days when you wished you had not let me go.”

  His expression clouded. “Aye, there were some. But I knew I could bear the scrutiny better than a maidservant. I was the viscount now, and there was no proof I’d murdered my own brother. Does the League know?”

  She nodded. “I told them from the beginning what I’d done.”

  “Then they never suspected me, were not looking to prove I was a murderer.”

  She shook her head, but felt uneasy. She could not reveal everything to him, not if she wanted the chance to remain a Bladeswoman.

  Bitterly, she added, “They said I had handled the situation poorly, that I was too young and impulsive. They said they’d made a mistake, that they would someday reevaluate their decision about admitting me, but until then I was to wait.”

  “And you’re still waiting.”

  She said nothing. She had never thought she’d have to choose between the League and a man, but apparently she really had been too young when she’d agreed to join. She had never considered how it would feel to fall in love.

  The first tear slid down her cheek. She had to be in love with Tom, because lying to him hurt so badly. She’d thought unburdening herself of some of the guilt would have helped. But he’d…generously understood what she’d done, and didn’t blame her. She kept telling herself that she’d help exonerate him in the eyes of the League and of the king. But it didn’t make her feel any better.

  She gave a start when he cupped her cheek, used his thumb to wipe away her tear.

  “I know you worked hard to be a Bladeswoman—the first, and that is an incredible accomplishment. But if they don’t understand what you had to do, perhaps you are not meant to be with them.”

  She shuddered.

  He let her go. “Think on it. I have not turned you away like they did.”

  When he left her bedchamber, she could only sink onto her bed in wonder. He did not blame her for the troubles he’d suffered after his brother’s death. He was a hero in every sense of the word.

  But now she was further confused—to whom did she owe her ultimate allegiance: to the League, or to the man she’d fallen in love with?

  Tom returned to his bedchamber, although he’d wanted nothing more than to stay with Diana, convince her that she could trust him.

  But he knew she still didn’t, knew she was hiding something. Because after an hour of pacing, sorting through everything he’d learned tonight, putting aside his growing feelings for Diana, he’d finally realized that it was still too much of a coincidence that King Henry had suggested he visit the Winslow sisters.

  The League of the Blade was somehow still involved. And he wanted Diana to freely tell him all of it.

  Chapter 19

  Early in the morning, before mass, Tom knocked on Cicely’s door. The castle was only just beginning to rouse after an evening of Christmas carols and dancing, and no one had seen him come up. And he knew that Diana was already awake and below overseeing the servants preparing for the final meal before their guests’ departure.

  When at last Cicely opened the door, a dressing gown wrapped about her, her face broke into a lovely smile.

  And beneath that smile lurked an ugly cruelty, for to have what she wanted, she’d threatened her sister with disgrace—and even death, if Cicely had thought that far ahead. He hoped she hadn’t.

  Spreading her arms wide to welcome him, she practically purred as she said, “Come in, my lord.”

  He did, and then slammed the door shut too hard, causing her cloak to jar from its peg beside the door and fall to the floor. Her smile faltered, and she took a step back in retreat when she looked into his face.

  Tom said, “Diana told me ever
ything.”

  “I know not what you—”

  “All about how you blackmailed her over my brother’s death.”

  She still must have thought she had the advantage, for the lines on her troubled forehead smoothed away. “She can deny it all she wants, but there are witnesses.” Her voice was so cold, as if she were speaking about a stranger, rather than her sister.

  “I was a witness.”

  She paled.

  “I did not know who she was,” he continued, “and I never saw her face, but I found her beneath my brother’s body. He was trying to rape her. Did you ever wonder how that felt? Your sister, so talented and confident, about to be violated, after she’d saved a woman from that same fate? What would you have done in her place?”

  “I—I—”

  “I will tell you what I did. I let her go, told her to flee. I never even saw her face. I knew she would have suffered far more than me if the truth had come out.”

  “Well…that was simply foolish on your part,” she said, pulling herself together. “She did not need you to risk yourself in her defense. If I were her, I would never have allowed myself to be in such a position.”

  “That is because you never would have agreed to help innocent women by putting yourself in grave danger.”

  Tom knew Cicely might not be able to understand another’s pain, but she certainly knew when she was being insulted. Her eyes flashed with anger, but he gripped her shoulders, and she stumbled over her words.

  “I will tell you how this will go,” he said in a low, deadly voice. “I will not shame you before your people, telling them about your betrayal of your own sister. Not for your sake, of course, but for Diana’s. I want her.”

  Outraged, she cried, “How can you want—”

  “You will do well to listen, and be rewarded for it.”

  She was sulky, but quiet.

  “You have done all of this for the sake of having a husband. Some of the blame lies at the feet of your brother, for denying you and Diana your rightful place with him and at court. Now you will let the past lie. You will say nothing about my brother’s death, and in exchange, I will sponsor you in London.”

  Her eyes went wide.

  “You will have your own house, your own servants, new clothing,” he continued. “Soon I will convince Diana to be my wife, and she’ll be a noblewoman. If you speak of what you know, she will be protected, and you will lose everything. Now do you think you can find yourself a husband in London? My generosity will not continue forever, though I will even grant you a dowry if you need one, for the sake of your sister.”

  She seemed so stunned, that the words wouldn’t even come. At last, she began to slowly smile. “Aye, my lord. We have an agreement. And of course you know I will find a very wealthy husband.”

  “You put great stock in your beauty, and rightly so,” he said, feeling almost tired with relief. When she preened, he added, “But beauty is fleeting. You need to cultivate your other talents to make a man happy for a lifetime.”

  She looked as if she didn’t want to believe him, but he no longer cared. He left her bedchamber, knowing she was too smart to ruin the agreement between them. Cicely might consider that she’d won, but Tom didn’t think so. He wanted Diana happy, and knowing that her sister was taken care of would relieve any of Diana’s guilt when he took her away from here.

  Diana spent the day alternating between feeling relieved that some of the guilt had been lifted from her shoulders and wondering what Tom now expected of her.

  He knew about her membership in the League, and seemed…proud of her accomplishment. There were many men who might feel slighted that a mere woman had taken a knight’s place within the order, but he was not one of them.

  She didn’t think he understood how deep a commitment one had to make to the League to be a member. She had broken the vows of secrecy by admitting her membership to him, but he’d deduced it, left her no choice.

  But how could she tell him that he’d been the subject of her assignment? Long ago he’d protected her identity as a murderer, suffering in her place, and she’d betrayed him—more than once. The League would never forgive her if she revealed her mission—and perhaps the mission was something Tom would never forgive either. Though she felt she’d helped him in the end, he might not see it that way.

  Would she have to make a choice between him and her membership in the League? Could she not be both things, a Bladeswoman and…a wife?

  She’d seldom imagined herself as a wife, beholden to a man. Her ambitions were so unwomanly, she never thought they could be compatible with marriage. But loving Tom had made her rethink all of that. How could she go back to a life without the intimacy of his regard, his conversation—or his bed?

  It was all too much to take in. She spent the day seeing to her departing guests. Tom never pressed her for a decision about their relationship. Only once did he approach her in a moment’s privacy to explain that he’d taken care of Cicely, who would not bother either of them again. They’d been interrupted almost immediately, so she’d had no time to ask what he’d done to make her sister change her mind.

  And yet Cicely spent the day looking so full of herself, like a hound that had eaten the fox.

  Diana tried to let it all go. She had a day’s respite, she thought, and sometime she would have to begin to think on her future, on what to do next.

  She slept fitfully that night, and awoke the next morning to find another surprise: Tom attending mass.

  He grinned at her before bowing his head for the prayers. Was he trying to say that if he could change, so could she?

  But by late afternoon, she knew her day of uneasy peace was over. Her brother, Archie, and a small company of men had been sighted on the approach to Kirkby Keep.

  Diana saw the moment Cicely entered the great hall. Her sister hurried right to her, as if ugly things had not been said between them.

  “Is it true?” Cicely demanded. “Archie is here?”

  “And why do you care?” Diana was surprised to hear herself say. “Aren’t you going to tell him what I’ve done?”

  Cicely rolled her eyes. “Why would I risk what I’ve won?”

  “Won?”

  “Did not your precious Lord Bannaster tell you of our agreement? He is sponsoring me in London! So let me handle my situation with Archie. Do not interfere.”

  Diana gaped at her. “As if I don’t have enough to talk to Archie about.” In a horrified voice, she added, “London?” It sounded like her sister was far from being punished for the cruel things she’d done.

  But Diana was guilty of her own sins. How could she judge another?

  Archie and four men-at-arms entered the great hall, stomping snow from their boots into the rushes scattered on the floor. Their brother was a tall, broad man, given to a bit more paunch than muscle, but then he’d never been diligent in his training. He dropped his hood back onto his shoulders, revealing his unruly blond hair. To Diana’s surprise, it seemed to have retreated a bit on either side of his forehead. She was trying to remember the last time they’d spoken, when he saw her and Cicely standing near the hearth.

  He strode toward them with great deliberation, a frown dominating his face. “You dared to have a tournament without asking my permission?” he bellowed.

  Archie always did enjoy bellowing. “A happy New Year to you, too, brother,” Diana said.

  He blinked.

  “Thank you for your thoughtful gift,” Cicely continued. “Did you receive the handkerchiefs I sent?”

  He cleared his throat. “I did. My thanks.” Then he seemed to remember why he’d come, and his light brows plummeted over his eyes. “Do you have an explanation for this tournament?”

  “Aye, the tournament,” Diana said calmly. “If we’d have asked your permission, it would have been weeks before we heard your answer.” And it would have been “no,” she thought grimly. “The holiday would have been over, the mild weather gone. How were you able to come so quic
kly?”

  He took a tankard of ale from a waiting servant and gulped deeply. “We spent Christmas in York.”

  Being so close, Diana thought, a normal brother would have sent for them. She knew Cicely thought the same thing, but with her newfound future, Cicely only shrugged as if Archie’s good will didn’t matter anymore. When Archie took another drink, Diana gave Cicely’s arm a squeeze, trying to warn her not to speak until they knew why their brother was here. Although Cicely gave her an impatient look, she did remain silent.

  Archie looked Diana over, curling his lip. “And I imagine you embarrassed our family once again.”

  “By winning the dagger competition?” she asked sweetly. “Why, yes, I did.”

  Archie scowled.

  “But you will be happy to know that I lost the only sword-fighting match I entered.”

  “Who defeated you?” Archie demanded.

  “I did.”

  Tom’s voice rang through the great hall. He and his men were just coming in, after having exercised the horses. His face was red from the cold, his dark hair mussed when he removed his snow-covered cap. Yet Diana felt a shiver of lust that went clear to her soul.

  “And who are you?” Archie was bellowing again.

  “Thomas, Viscount Bannaster.”

  To Diana’s amazement, Archie didn’t look surprised. And then she realized that the tournament wasn’t the only reason that Archie had decided to pay them a visit.

  Tom arched an eyebrow in amusement, adding, “And I do believe we’ve met, Winslow.”

  Rudely ignoring him, Archie turned back to his sisters. “When do we eat?”

  Throughout supper, Archie remained in a bad mood. When Diana asked about the health of his wife, his answers were mere grunts as he continued eating. He kept flashing dark looks at Tom, and she knew that an explosion of temper was in the offing.