Lover's Knot

by Louise Clark

  Osborne’s impatience turned to grim annoyance. He lifted his hand and with a flick of his wrist Philip’s carefully laid plan dissolved.

  The troop of soldiers jerked into the action they craved. Fanning out and moving inexorably forward, they advanced toward the Leighton position at a steady, controlled walk.

  Philip turned angrily to Osborne. “What is the meaning of this?”

  Osborne shrugged. “Obviously, these Royalists plan to break our agreement. I’m just ensuring that I do not lose Thomas to his scheming sisters.”

  “Signal your men to stop,” Philip said angrily. “Allow me to talk some sense into the ladies.”

  Osborne looked amused. “I doubt that is possible, but all right, you can try.”

  Although his plan had been seriously compromised, Philip was not unhappy with this latest development, for it would allow him to be close to Alysa and Prudence and thus able to protect them when Thomas bolted for the woods. He was just about to put his heels to his mount when another rider, galloping recklessly, appeared in the distance. Once again everything stopped.

  This time the rider was Cedric Ingram. He was flushed and his eyes stared wildly. “Stop them!” he shouted as he approached. “Don’t let them get away.”

  Osborne sighed. “This was supposed to have been so very simple. What happened?”

  The urge to ride into the fray was almost more than Philip could bear, but he forced himself to remain calm. With Cedric Ingram once again involved, quick wits could be more important than brute strength.

  Ingram was panting as he reached Osborne and Philip. “None of the Leighton family is at Strathern Hall. None! I sense a betrayal! Arrest Thomas Leighton now. And the ladies too.”

  “An excellent idea,” Osborne drawled. He lifted his hand to make one of his dangerous, silent signals.

  Philip, desperate to distract him, said bitterly, “You are obsessed with treachery, Ingram. You have been so deeply involved in betraying your friends that you see it in the actions of everyone else.”

  Cedric brushed off his remarks with the ease that one brushes off a pesky fly. “Where else would the whole Leighton family be, but here, trying to ensure that their beloved Thomas gets away scot-free? Sir Edgar, I beg of you, listen to me! A plot is afoot to keep Thomas Leighton from being taken. You must act, now!”

  “You really are a turncoat,” Philip said contemptuously. “Do you think the gold Osborne gives you will be enough to pay for the loss of your home and the respect of those around you?”

  Cedric looked at Philip amazed; then he laughed. “Money is not the issue. Power is. Osborne has offered me a position at the Lord Protector’s court. I shall be a man of importance, as I deserve to be.”

  Philip laughed without amusement. “I wish you joy of your new post, Ingram, but I doubt the power you attain will be quite as heady as you expect.”

  Cedric frowned. “You sound as if you know of what you speak.”

  Osborne laughed. Unlike Philip, he was amused by the conversation. “He does. He was once offered a position at the Protector’s court, which was a good deal more respectable than yours will be.” When Cedric frowned and looked about to question that remark, Osborne added, “Enough! I want Thomas Leighton under guard immediately!” He signaled to Weston, who ordered the dragoons into a trot.

  At that moment, Thomas Leighton looked back at Philip. A silent communication passed between them. He nodded and put his heels to his horse, urging it into a gallop. Philip did the same. While Thomas bolted for the trees, Philip headed for the vulnerable Alysa and Prudence.

  For a moment there was chaos. Weston wasn’t sure how to react to this unexpected twist and his men milled about behind him, anxious to be in action, but unable to act until the command was given. Osborne and Cedric Ingram shouted and fought with their nervous, prancing horses, issuing orders that only confused the lieutenant further.

  Alysa saw Philip heading toward them and urged Prudence to ride to meet him. They were almost together when he heard Ingram scream, “The woods! He is heading for the woods. There is a path there! He can escape!”

  Philip spared a desperate glance over his shoulder. Thomas was closing on the trees, but a half a dozen of the troopers were now thundering behind him. All that was needed was for one man to bring Thomas down before he reached the path, and escape route or not, he would lose his freedom.

  Philip’s job, though, was to ensure that Prudence and Alysa were safe. Most of the soldiers were intent on capturing the ladies, for it was obvious to all that Thomas would surrender if he thought that his sisters were in danger.

  As Philip neared, he shouted to Alysa, “Stay by me. I’m going to ride through the troopers and head back to Strathern Hall.”

  “What about Thomas?”

  “Thomas must look to himself,” Philip said grimly.

  “But—”

  “There is no time for argument, Alysa! You must do as I say now, or all is lost!”

  Slowly, she nodded. Thomas had reached the trees with the troopers hot on his heels. Alysa turned her horse to ride for home, still unsure whether or not her brother was safe.

  “Stay behind me,” Philip said grimly. He eased his sword in its scabbard. His plan was to fight his way past the troopers, for he had cut a path through the enemy’s line and ridden to safety on a number of occasions. The drawback now would be Alysa and Prudence, unused as they were to the violence and bloodshed of combat. “When we are through, ride as fast as you can for Strathern. Once inside the house, your servants can protect you.”

  “Philip—” Alsya said in a shaky voice.

  “Please! I will not be far behind you.”

  The time it had taken for Philip to convince Alysa to follow him was enough to allow Osborne, closely followed by Cedric Ingram, to reach them.

  “The devil you say, Hampton! I’m not about to allow the ladies to escape while Thomas Leighton is still at large.”

  His sword raised, Philip turned to confront this fresh danger. “Your men will have Leighton secure in a few minutes. Path or no, your soldiers are close enough behind him to capture him, even if he does reach the woods. Let the ladies go.”

  Behind him, Alysa and Prudence shifted closer, knowing that he was their only protection.

  A nasty glint appeared in Cedric Ingram’s eyes. “Don’t listen to him, Sir Edgar! The path he speaks of is a footpath! Leighton can leave his horse, climb down to the bottom of the cliffs and disappear into the countryside before your men can do anything about it!”

  “A footpath!” Osborne half turned in his saddle to shout a warning to his men, but Philip stopped him with the point of his sword.

  “The ladies return to Strathern Hall, Osborne. Without hindrance.”

  “The devil you say!” Osborne drew his own sword.

  For a moment the two men, allies once, enemies now, stared at each other. Then Philip nodded. “So be it.”

  Their swords clashed, steel meeting steel in an angry clangor. From the first it was clear that Philip would be the victor. He was the one trained in hand-to-hand combat on the back of a horse, not Osborne, who had been a member of Parliament during the war and more recently a courtier and a man of influence. Moreover, Philip was riding his spirited black horse, trained in the arts of war. The stallion responded to hidden signals Philip gave to position it more effectively and the clash of swords did not make it nervous, as it clearly did Osborne’s mount.

  Philip did not want to waste time in pointless dueling with Sir Edgar Osborne, so when Osborne’s horse shied, Philip took the opportunity offered. He gave the leg and hand commands that caused his horse to rear up on its hind legs and lash out at Osborne’s frightened mount. In that moment Philip raised his sword and with a sweeping movement brought it down hard on Osborne’s blade.

  Osborne’s horse shied and bucked at the same time as Philip struck. The sword fell from Osborne’s hand as easily as if it had just turned into a hot iron poker.

  Osborne swore
as he steadied his horse. “Stupid beast!” He laughed through his annoyance. “A fine move, Sir Philip, and worthy of the warrior you are, but I fear honorable battle does not always lead to victory. In defeating me, you have lost your prize.”

  One quick look told Philip the rest of the story. While he had fought Osborne, Cedric Ingram had grabbed Alysa from the back of her horse. She was struggling desperately, flailing at him with her riding whip, but she could not break his hold.

  A silent command, which was an almost invisible combination of the rider’s hands and knees, made Philip’s stallion rise on its hind legs, then whirl in an elegant leap that brought it directly in line with Cedric Ingram. When the stallion’s hooves once again touched the ground it was galloping toward the enemy.

  Prudence screamed a warning, and Alysa began to punch Ingram’s chest and kick at his legs with her feet. Though she was impeded by her heavy riding dress, her wild flailing was enough to unsettle Ingram’s horse. Like Osborne’s, it spooked, bucking and shying. Within seconds both Cedric and Alysa had tumbled onto the ground.

  There Alysa was able to roll to her feet first and she ran, not caring which direction she was going as long as it was away from Cedric Ingram.

  Hoofbeats sounded beside her. She looked up to find Philip reaching for her and a smile as bright as sunshine broke over her face. Without hesitation, she grabbed his outstretched arm and let him swing her up onto his mount. Shuddering, she wrapped her arms around his waist and buried her face in his strong chest. She was safe now that she was with Philip.

  Across the open ground, Thomas slowed his horse to a trot and vanished into the shaded grove. The dragoons were not a length behind him as he disappeared. Philip feared that he would not be able to get deep enough into the gloom to successfully escape.

  But as Thomas entered the trees there was another flurry of motion. Two dozen or more of the townsfolk of West Easton stepped from the shadows carrying pikes, swords, some muskets and a variety of other weapons. They stood silently, their expressions grimly determined as they faced the soldiers.

  Their leader was Lord Strathern. He stepped forward. Shouting, so that his voice could be heard by all, he said, “Sir Edgar Osborne! Kidnapping is a reprehensible act and unacceptable to civilized men, no matter what their political beliefs. Thus, no one who has been victimized by this crime is required to deal honestly with those who have perpetrated it. My son will soon be gone from England. Allow my daughters to freely return to their home.”

  It was doubtful whether Lord Strathern and his motley band of adherents would be any match for the disciplined men of the New Model Army, but the mere fact that they stood defiantly before the soldiers was enough to give Osborne pause.

  “This is treason,” he shouted back, remounting his horse and brandishing the sword he had just retrieved from the ground.

  “No, sir, it is not!” Strathern retorted, unimpressed. “I am merely exercising the right of every Englishman to protect the honor of his family. Call off your men.”

  Osborne looked from Strathern to Philip, who protectively cuddled Alysa against him, and to Prudence who had guided her horse very close to Philip’s. Between them and Strathern Hall were perhaps a half a dozen of the dragoons, but Philip still held his sword raised and the expression on his face said that he would gladly fight his way through to keep his lady out of Osborne’s hands.

  In that instant, Sir Edgar Osborne knew that he was beaten. It was merely icing on the cake that the sound of hoofbeats drew him to the edge of the cliff to watch Thomas Leighton, mounted on one of his father’s fast horses, gallop toward the little cove beyond. Osborne could see a boat waiting there for him. Clearly, Thomas Leighton would be bound for the Continent before too much longer, for there was no way that he could be caught now.

  Grimly, Osborne turned away from the scene. “Very well. The ladies return to Strathern Hall, unharmed.” He glared at Philip. “You, sir, will regret this act of betrayal!”

  “I regret having ever agreed to aid you in your scheme,” Philip said evenly. “I shall never regret thwarting it.” He saluted Lord Strathern. “Pray allow me to escort your daughters home, sir.”

  “I think not,” Strathern said coldly. “I would prefer to know that my daughters are safe in the hands of an honorable gentleman.”

  Philip stiffened. Alysa exclaimed, “Papa!”

  “Hush, girl, and do as I say. You and Prudence will ride home with me.”

  She looked up into Philip’s eyes. “He is just being cautious, dear heart. It doesn’t mean—”

  “Do as your father says,” Philip replied, gently lowering her to the ground. “He and I will have much to discuss later.”

  “I love you,” Alysa whispered, her eyes searching Philip’s.

  He smiled, but didn’t reply. His expression was hooded as he watched her mount up behind her sister and ride past the troopers to the protection of Lord Strathern and the sturdy yeomen of West Easton.

  Behind Philip, Osborne laughed. He glanced over his shoulder at the gloating face of the Roundhead.

  “A turncoat can never win, Hampton. Look at this fool, Ingram. I bought him with the promise of power and position, a promise I had no intention of keeping. It appears that you sold out for a promise that was just as insubstantial.”

  Philip didn’t reply. He turned his horse’s head and rode away, without looking back.

  Chapter 19

  The four occupants of the shabby drawing room were very still. Lord Strathern stood by the fireplace, his expression remarkably difficult to interpret as he read the missive that had been smuggled in from the Continent. Alysa, her sister and her stepmother watched him in strained silence, waiting. It seemed to Alysa that she had been waiting ever since Thomas had sailed from Fenwick Cove two weeks before. Two very long weeks.

  Strathern smiled as he crumpled the sheet of paper and threw it into the fireplace. The news was good. Alysa heaved a silent sigh of relief.

  “Thomas has successfully reached Amsterdam. He reported his findings to the king. As these are much the same as the arguments that the gentlemen of the Sealed Knot have been making, His Majesty is now better able to assess the promises spouted by hotheads who claim that a rebellion now would inevitably succeed.” Strathern’s cheerful expression faded as he looked at his two daughters. “So, I will be able to tell my associates in the Sealed Knot that a true and considered report was given to the king. Thus I can say that Thomas’s time was productively spent while he was here. I wish I could say the same for both of you.”

  Alysa bit her lip and looked guilty. Prudence lifted her chin defiantly. “Papa—”

  Strathern held up his hand. “No more protests, Prudence. Today we must decide what to do about your future. ‘Tis not an auspicious prospect, I fear.”

  “How could you be so silly as to follow Cedric Ingram?” Abigail said wretchedly. Because Edward had felt it necessary to invoke the aide of his tenants and neighbors to rescue her, everyone in the vicinity knew that Prudence had been kidnapped by Cedric Ingram and why he had been able to lure her into his clutches. She was an object of pity to all and a severe embarrassment to her mother.

  Prudence hung her head. “I thought it was a way of learning about him. I was simply doing as you suggested, Mama!”

  “Don’t mock your mother that way!” Strathern snapped. His temper was very close to the surface, for he had been sorely tried by his daughters these past weeks. Moreover, he didn’t like being placed in the position he was now in. The decisions that would be made today would last for the lifetimes of his daughters. Those were decisions that should not be made lightly, or because current circumstances made them inevitable. Yet that was what he was being forced to do. He wasn’t happy with the situation.

  “No, Papa,” Prudence replied meekly. “I’m sorry, Mama.”

  Abigail’s bout of self-indulgence was characteristically brief. Her voice resumed its usual brisk tone and her expression became gently concerned. “I accept that
you wished to make Master Ingram notice you, my dear. What your father and I need to know is how you feel about him now.”

  Prudence diligently pleated the smooth peach cloth of her petticoat. “When I heard him talking to that odious Roundhead, I was repulsed, but later—” Her fingers closed into a fist, crushing the bright fabric. “He hid me in an abandoned cottage on his lands and he came to visit me there. I was desperately lonely and bored and frightened and I think he sensed that. He would pause to talk to me when he brought me my meals. During those hours, he told me quite a lot about himself. I came to I believe that he was not the black villain I had first thought him to be. In fact, his motives were much misunderstood.” She drew, a shaky breath. For the first time she seemed to notice her clenched fist and the crushed material. Slowly she relaxed her hand, then smoothed the crumpled peach cloth.

  Abigail sighed. “Prudence, you disappeared for three days. Your reputation is undoubtedly ruined.”

  Prudence looked deliberately at her mother. “If Master Ingram would have me, I would wish to be married to him.”

  “You cannot!” Alysa burst out. “Cedric Ingram kidnapped you so that our brother would be captured!”

  Prudence turned lost eyes to her. “I know that, but I love him still. He fascinates me as no other man ever has.”

  Strathern snorted. “He fascinates you because he is—was—the most influential unmarried man in the region. Should another such come this way, you would find him as exciting as Cedric Ingram!”

  “I do not think so, Papa.”

  Prudence’s rebuttal was said with such quiet dignity that afterward there was an uncomfortable silence in the room. Prudence blushed, for the silence was the silence of pity, not respect.