Isabel’s heart plunged. He was not attracted to her in that way. She was mortified.
“Yet.”
To that concise, bold statement, she had no answer. Her cheeks grew hot and the place between her legs that had been throbbing a moment ago came back to life. He smiled wickedly at her speechlessness. “I’ll see you back to the queen’s lodging.”
Gavin held up a hand when Isabel made to follow him out the door. “Hold a moment. I need to make sure we’re alone.” She waited, for longer than expected. At last, the door opened and he motioned to her.
He held on to her arm and hurried her toward the lodging, keeping closely to the buildings. “Do you still wish for tennis instruction?” Gavin asked.
She laughed. Until this moment, tennis had been the last thing on her mind. “Aye. I assumed you had forgotten about your offer. Or decided it was improper.”
He chuckled softly. “Not I.”
Dismayed, she said, “I don’t have suitable clothing.”
“Wear your loosest-fitting bodice and skirts. Try to leave off a few of the layers you normally cover yourself with.” They’d reached the door, where a guard stood watch. Gavin jerked to a halt. “And Bel.” He grabbed hold of her arm and whispered, “No corset.”
She scurried inside, his soft laughter echoing in her head.
Chapter Twelve
Philip Blake sat across from Gavin in his office. They were breaking their fast together, as they’d arranged to do the night before. The two men had yet to discuss the questioning of those who had been present during the outing by the river.
Gavin spooned a large portion of a hearty beef and onion pottage into his mouth and washed it down with ale. “I learned nothing of value from Cecily, Alice, or Lady Shrewsbury.”
“The same for me with Dorothy and Frances.”
“We have yet to complete our interviews with the guards and staff.”
“And what about Lesley?”
“I had an interesting conversation with him at dinner last night.”
When he did not elaborate, Blake tore off a hunk of bread and offered it to Gavin. “Ann wasn’t at the river, and she’d heard nothing suspicious among the other servants. Isabel was the sole witness who thought she could identify anybody. That’s not surprising, since she was the only lady who had direct contact with one of them.”
Gavin buttered his bread while Blake continued. “There was one thing, though. Ann said the queen mentioned recently she would not be here much longer. Do you know anything about that?”
Surprised, Gavin rocked his chair backward and eyed the other man. “The earl hasn’t revealed any plans to move her again, although that’s certainly possible. I’ll ask him.” When Gavin had first arrived at Tutbury, Shrewsbury informed him that Philip Blake was in his employ. Not officially as a spy, but as someone with whom the others may be willing to share secrets, which he would then pass along. He had the eye of Mary and the devotion of the other women. That was understandable, as he was a handsome man with an uncanny ability to charm, even while arbitrating arguments among the ladies.
“Mary lied to me when I interviewed her,” Gavin said, his chair bouncing forward and hitting the floor with a bang.
“What? How do you know?”
Gavin shrugged. “Instinct. When I asked if she’d ever seen any of the attackers before, she said no, but her eyes betrayed her. She was lying.”
“How could she have recognized any of those men? She has no dealings with locals.”
Frowning, Gavin said, “I’m no longer convinced they were locals.”
“But—”
Gavin cut him off. “Would you be shocked to hear that the Duke of Norfolk paid a visit to Tutbury that evening after dinner?”
“You jest.”
Gavin paused a moment, assessing Blake’s trustworthiness. But Shrewsbury trusted the man, and Gavin saw no reason why he should not do likewise. “Before retiring, I walked the perimeter of the bailey. You are familiar with the receiver’s lodging, near the gate?”
Blake nodded, and Gavin continued. “There was a light in the window. I ducked into the stables and found a fine-looking stallion housed within. I roused the stable boy, who said he didn’t know whose it was. Lesley had brought it in.”
Blake’s eyes riveted on him, Gavin finished the tale, relating everything he’d overheard.
“Norfolk himself, here? This is treason! What’s been done about it?”
“Shrewsbury sent a message to London, but Norfolk would have been safely ensconced in his home before Cecil received it. It would be his word against ours, and we have absolutely no proof that he was ever here, let alone hatching treasonous plots with Queen Mary.”
Blake gave his head a shake. “You must have informed Shrewsbury immediately. Why didn’t you arrest him, hold him until Cecil received the missive and sent word of what to do?”
“There was a delay of several hours before I informed the earl.” When Blake looked incredulous, Gavin explained. “Even though they failed to kill me, they did achieve their goals in one sense. We can prove nothing against the duke.” Rubbing the back of his neck, Gavin said, “And by the way, the attack at the river was a smokescreen, meant to cover up the duke’s arrival. Those were his men, which is why Mary recognized one of them.”
“Jesu. Who else knows of this?”
Gavin snorted. “Besides the perpetrators? The earl and…” He broke off, hesitating. “Isabel—although I didn’t tell her everything. She knows nothing about the duke being here, or the conversation I overheard.”
Eyes dancing, Blake was not going to let this go. “Aha! I knew you had an interest there.”
Safer not to deny it. “She’s trustworthy, and spends much of her time with Mary. The queen seems to have chosen Bel as her latest intimate. I hope she will be willing to share some of Mary’s confidences with me.”
“And what about you, Cade? Wouldn’t you like the lovely Bel to be your intimate? You do know that’s what Mary’s ladies believe, don’t you? They are positively drooling with envy.”
Gavin did not care for the leering expression on Blake’s face, but he let it go. “Let them believe what they like. That does not mean it is true.”
“You prefer to keep your distance, don’t you? No bed sport with any of the women here. I admire your restraint, although you are missing out on a deal of pleasure. If you don’t intend to bed Isabel, I may pursue her myself.”
Gavin put on his most intimidating face. “No. She’s not for you.”
Blake nodded once, curtly, and took his leave. He’d gotten the message.
God’s mercy, what time was it? Gavin glanced at his timepiece and realized he was late for his meeting with Isabel. After locking up important documents, he grabbed the tennis rackets and balls and hurried outside toward the makeshift tennis court.
He hoped his—and Shrewsbury’s—assessment of Philip Blake was the correct one.
…
Pacing around the tennis court, Isabel, attired as Gavin had directed, had grown tired of waiting. Mary’s ladies did not have an unlimited amount of time to do as they pleased. In Isabel’s favor this morning, Mary was not feeling well, and Dorothy was attending her. Isabel felt guilty about being grateful the queen was ill, but such was her giddiness when it came to Gavin. Apparently, he wasn’t as keen to see her.
Glancing around the bailey yet again, she finally glimpsed him striding toward her, carrying two rackets. He waved at her; she ignored him. Even though she was angry, she couldn’t help admiring his form as he approached. The shoulders. The thighs. What was a lady to do?
Out of breath, Gavin said, “I can see you’re angry with me. I’m unforgivably late and heartily sorry for it.”
“Hmpf. I was preparing to return to the lodging. One more minute, and I would have.”
“I am exceedingly glad you did not.” He dropped the rackets and removed his doublet. Isabel watched, mesmerized.
She hated herself for capitulating so
quickly.
Handing her a racket, he said, “Let me show you how to begin.” He grasped her arms and turned her toward the net. “Hold the racket in your right hand. Good. Now, watch me.”
That would be no hardship.
In one fluid movement, Gavin threw the ball in the air, swung the racket in a downward arc, and struck the ball. Thwonk! It bounced over the net to the far side of the court. Unfortunately, Isabel hadn’t paid one iota of attention to his technique. She was in a giddy state of suspension, eyes riveted on his body.
He hit a second ball, and after retrieving them both, a third. “Would you like to try?” Gavin asked.
She blinked.
He grinned, perfectly aware of what aspect of the game she’d been studying. How mortifying. Gathering herself, she said, “Of course.”
“Toss the ball up and hit it. Try to imitate my motion.”
Isabel nodded. “Aye. I will.” She looked at Gavin and giggled. Then, in a pathetic display of athletic ineptitude, she threw the ball in the air and made a half-hearted attempt at smashing it with the racket. Regrettably, she did not move fast enough and managed only to bat the ball into the ground.
Gavin scratched his head and said, “Hmm. Perhaps this will be more of a challenge than I anticipated.”
By all the saints, was she a complete lackwit? Snap out of it, Isabel. “Let me try again.”
He moved behind her, grabbed hold of her hand, and gently rotated her arm in an arc. “Like that,” he said. He was all business, and she tried to ignore the strong pulsing of her heart and the scorching heat spreading through her body. His touch should not excite her to this extent.
“I’m ready,” she said. “I can do it now.” Closing her eyes briefly, Isabel visualized the motion she would employ to strike the ball, and the technique worked. She whacked it hard. The ball flew into the net, but it was a good shot nonetheless. “I did it!”
Gavin beamed at her. “So you did. Again, Bel.”
She hit ball after ball, lobbing most of them over the net. Then, he took up a position on the other side. “Let’s try bandying back and forth.”
She worked at it diligently, and in the end, got the hang of it. When she returned one of his shots, she was jubilant. “I am getting good at this, eh Gavin?” Isabel wished she’d brought a handkerchief. While he wasn’t looking, she mopped her brow with her sleeve, and looked up to see him approaching her, an odd look on his face.
“Oh, hell, Isabel. Let’s have done with tennis.” He dropped his racket and pried hers from her hand. Then he wrapped an arm about her waist and pulled her close. “I only want to kiss you. Your cheeks are rosy, and so is the rest of you, I’ll wager.”
Something wild and untamed surged through her when his lips touched hers. It was a powerful force against which she was helpless. Isabel lunged into him, in a fever for his body, desperate to touch as much of him as possible. Not in need of any coaxing on Gavin’s part, she opened her mouth and sucked his tongue inside. He groaned deep in his throat, and she took that as a good sign.
Had she always wanted this and never known it? She pressed her hands against his chest, but that was not sufficient. “I want to feel your bare skin, Gavin. Help me.”
“Gladly, love.” He pulled his lawn shirt up and off, and then his shift. She stared unashamedly at his beautiful chest, dusted lightly with hair, longing to explore every plane and sinew. But before she could do more, he lifted her into his arms and carried her toward a small enclosure at the far end of the court. Inside was a cushioned settle, and he set her on it. Easing down beside her, he said, “I want to touch you, Bel. May I?”
“Where?” she asked, although it would not matter what he answered.
“Everywhere, sweetheart.”
And then they were lost in each other. He let her stroke his chest and shoulders, and when that proved not enough, she kissed her way across his torso, stopping to tongue and suck his nipples, because she wanted to taste him. At last he stopped her, grabbing her hands and stilling her frenzied movement. “Let me, now, Isabel.”
She nodded, giving her body into his sensitive hands. He unfastened her bodice, and then her skirts. Only her shift remained between her and his naked chest. She shivered, because it was, after all, nearly December, and the air was cool. “You are cold. Come here. I’ll warm you.”
After a moment, he lowered the straps of her chemise and exposed her breasts. Shy at first, she quickly overcame such feelings. Gavin’s look was so rapt, so worshipful. Then he palmed her breasts in his big hands and gently massaged, lightly tweaking her nipples and making her quiver with need.
He kissed her, whispered in her ear. “I want to pleasure you, Bel.” Lovingly, he cradled her in his arms, turning her so her back was to his chest. Sliding up the hem of her chemise, he said, “Will you open your legs for me?”
Of course, she would. Of course. She was wild for his touch. He must be laughing about her denials that she was not like Mary’s other ladies. And then she felt his hand cupping her there, and she melted inside. She was wet, and he separated her folds and spread the wetness over her core with his fingers. And when he lavished his attention on her most sensitive spot, she cried out from the intensity of it. Twisting her body around, she pulled him down for a kiss. So many sensations assailed her at once, she didn’t know if she could bear it.
“Gavin, I—”
He murmured in her ear. “Shh. Just enjoy, Bel. You are so beautiful. You’ve no idea, have you? Let yourself go, sweeting.”
And she did, her body convulsing in a paroxysm so sweet, she thought the angels had carried her away. Feeling timid now that it was over, she relaxed against him and nearly dozed off. At length, he turned her around so that she was facing him. “What about you, Gavin? I want to bring you pleasure, too. Will you not let me stroke your…” She could not bring herself to say any of the ridiculous words used for the male organ.
“My cock?”
She laughed, flushing. “Aye.”
“As much as I would love that, not today. I don’t trust myself with you. Besides, don’t you need to get back?”
Her hand flew to her mouth. “God’s mercy! I’ve been absent far too long. What will they think?” Hurriedly, Gavin helped Isabel dress, then set himself to rights. When he glanced about with a puzzled expression, she said, “Your shirt. ’Tis on the court, where you pulled it off.”
A devilish grin broke over his face. “Where you nearly ripped it off me, you mean.”
Isabel laughed. “Your doublet is there, too.” After Gavin was dressed, she said, “I’ll walk back alone. If anybody asks, I can say I was walking and lost track of the time.”
“Somebody may have seen us, you know.”
She sighed, hoping he was wrong. “In that case, I shall say you were practicing your sport and offered to show me how the game is played.” She walked a few steps away, then, not relishing the idea of leaving him, turned back and kissed him soundly on the lips. “Until later, then.”
“Aye, Isabel. Until later.”
…
Gavin fetched his shirt and doublet and resumed his seat. The small enclosure served as shelter for the queen if the weather turned inclement, but it had never been used. Until today.
Practicing my sport, indeed. He shook his head and chuckled to himself. And then he sobered. What was he doing with Isabel? When he’d thought death was imminent, he’d judged himself a fool for deciding to cut her from his life. A woman such as she was to be treasured, not cast aside. He rose and tugged his shirt on, then fastened his doublet over it.
In no hurry, he began walking toward his suite, still thinking deeply. Instinctively, he knew it was wrong to dally with a woman like Isabel. She was intelligent, sensitive, caring—the opposite of Mary’s other ladies. Did he mean to marry her? Jesu. He was not ready for that. His wounds were still too deep, the healing yet in its genesis.
Hadn’t he believed in Anna’s essential goodness? And by the Virgin, look how that had tur
ned out.
For now, he could draw only one conclusion. He must let Isabel go, before matters progressed any further. If he got her with child…then neither of them would have a choice. They would have to wed, because he couldn’t allow a child of his to be a bastard. Gavin would take Isabel aside and tell her of all this. His wife, his marriage, and what had happened. She would understand. He would make her understand.
Gavin was so immersed in his thoughts, he barely registered a man emerging from John Lesley’s chambers. With a packet clutched under his arm, the fellow was dashing toward the gate. When he passed Gavin, he reached out and grabbed the man’s arm.
“Ho, there, sirrah. I believe you need to come with me.”
The man, only a youth, tried to escape Gavin’s grasp, ineffectually. “Pray let me go, sir. If the bishop sees me with you, he’ll have me head. And these messages is important. Must be delivered posthaste, he said.”
“We’ll see about that,” Gavin said. “It will go better for you if I’m not forced to drag you along. Much less conspicuous, eh?” The boy quit trying to free himself, but Gavin kept a firm hold on him, nevertheless, and hustled him along. He too would prefer the bishop not see them.
They entered Gavin’s office, and he pointed to the chair. “Set the packet on the desk and be seated.” The lad, a scruffy-looking boy, was clothed in soiled hose and a tattered doublet and jerkin. Whatever Lesley was paying him, it wasn’t enough. “How much coin did the bishop give you?”
Reluctantly, the lad threw the packet onto the desk and fished a coin from a pocket. A halfpenny. Gavin snorted. The miserly bastard. “There’s a shilling in it for you every time you bring his missives to me.”
The boy’s eyes widened. “Gor.”
Gavin sat behind the desk. “Where did you come from, lad?”
“Derby.”
“On foot?”
“Aye, sir.”
“Did you bring missives for the bishop? And who is on the other end of these transactions?”
Game of Spies Page 12
