Georgie burst into the clearing. Even Alicia gasped at the fearsome sight he presented. His wide black muzzle opened, and exposed two rows of large white teeth. Silver strands of saliva dripped from his jaws, as the mastiff rose on his powerful hindquarters, and hurled himself onto Flash.
The man let go of Alicia, and fought to ward off the maddened animal’s attack. They crashed to the ground. Demon stared at the struggle between man and beast with terror-stricken eyes. Meanwhile, Alicia scrambled away from their twisting bodies.
“Cavendish! To me!” Thomas’s battle cry filled the air. Silver Charm plunged through the hawthorn bracken into the melee. His rider brandished his sword, looking like Saint Michael the archangel himself.
Demon raised his dagger to plunge it into Georgie. Without waiting for his horse to stop, Thomas leapt from the saddle, and hurled the dark man to the ground. Alicia screamed as her enraged husband lopped off the villain’s hand with a single slash of his sword. The bloody thing fell to the earth, still gripping the knife. Demon shrieked in pain, and clutched his mangled arm to his chest.
His sword dripping with blood, Thomas wheeled round. Flash gripped Georgie by his leather collar, and twisted it tighter. The huge dog thrashed against the choke hold. Without blinking, Thomas thrust his sword between the two. Flash gasped as if all the wind had been knocked out of him. Then he went limp when the sword pierced his heart. Gasping for air, Georgie backed off the body.
Alicia clutched the nearest tree for support. Never had she witnessed such a heated rage. She felt shaken to the core by the display of her husband’s raw power.
Thomas stepped over the dead man, and strode to her side. “How fare you, Alicia?” he asked with infinite tenderness. He took her cold hand in his warm one, and kissed her nerveless fingers.
She tumbled into his arms. Her blood roared in her ears. “W…well, my lord,” she answered when she could find her voice.
Dropping his weapon, he crushed her against his chest, and buried his face in her unbound hair. “Did…did they…? Are you…harmed?”
She slipped her arms around his waist. “Nay, but ‘twas a near thing.” She could feel his heart thudding against her own. She could not stop shivering.
His lips trembled. “I have never killed a man before.” The two of them clung to each other in silence for several long minutes. Thomas’s warmth seeped into Alicia. Laying her head on his shoulder, she drank in the comfort of his nearness, and wept with relief. His great body shook with emotion.
Andrew and the guards milled around the small clearing within the thicket of hawthorn. The exhausted Taverstock rode in the squire’s saddlebag. When he saw his master and mistress, he uttered several hoarse barks. Meanwhile, Demon’s screams of pain had subsided to moans.
Lifting his head, Thomas stared into Alicia’s eyes. “Later, I will make amends to God for my killing, but, by my troth, I would have skinned the villain while he still lived until he begged for death, if he had touched—”
She placed her hand over his lips before he could say anything else. The force of his anger frightened her. “I am whole, Thomas. All they took was my jewelry—and your wedding ring.” She showed him her bare finger.
He brushed his lips over her ravished hand. “You shall have it back anon—with interest.” His eyes gleamed in the dusk.
Her skin burned where he had caressed her. She started to reply, but Thomas turned to Andrew, and lifted Taverstock out of the leather pouch.
“Here is your true champion.” He held out the little dog to her. “I have never seen Tavie run so fast, nor so far before. He guided us from the clearing where you had been attacked to the old wagon track before his legs gave out. There Georgie picked up your scent, and led us onward.”
Alicia took the terrier, and cradled him against her. Tavie closed his eyes, and sighed through his nose.
“He and Georgie shall have a special feast when we return home.”
Thomas traced his knuckle down her cheek. “Aye, they deserve it, but first, I must finish what was started.”
He strode over to Demon, and nudged the prostrate churl with his boot. “Cease your caterwauling, fool. Tell me your master’s name and his intent.”
Demon acted as if he had not heard Thomas. He continued to rock on the ground, and cry.
The tall knight knelt beside him. “Speak, butcher’s cur, or you will lose your other one in a trice.”
The varlet only whimpered, “My hand, my hand! How can I make my living now?”
Thomas grabbed the man’s good hand, and raised his sword. Alicia stifled a scream. Her husband’s beautiful blue eyes glowed like ice chips. He looked like the angel of death.
Demon squealed like a stuck pig. “‘Twas no master, but a lady,” he babbled.
Thomas flourished his sword an inch above the man’s arm. “Come again, I did not hear you well enough. The name of your master, churl!”
Alicia took a step forward. “He speaks the truth. I heard them say ‘twas a lady who had hired them to abduct me.”
The man nodded. “By my mother’s soul, ‘tis a rich lady named Isabel Cavendish, who waits for us at the Black Dog Inn on the Ainsty road.”
Alicia gasped. She had not realized how deep Isabel’s hatred had flowed. What would Lady Cavendish have done with her?
“Why?” Thomas’s voice crackled like ice in February.
Demon sucked in his breath. “She claimed to be an agent for King Henry. She said your lady was an enemy of the king, and that he would pay a rich ransom for her.”
Alicia closed her eyes, and breathed a prayer of thanksgiving. Isabel would have delivered her up to certain death—and all for a few coins in return.
Thomas swore a blood-chilling oath. His fingers tightened around the hilt of his sword. For one terrifying moment, Alicia thought that he meant to run his blade through the brigand. Instead, he slid his weapon back into his scabbard.
He spoke to one of the men-at-arms. “Crocker, take this piece of vermin into your care. Bind up his wound so that he will be healthy when he hangs in York.” He glanced at Flash’s inert body. “Throw this offal over his beast, and bear both knaves to the master gaoler of York with my compliments. Andrew, escort my lady and the dogs back to Wolf Hall, and see to their comfort. I have some business to attend to in Ainsty at the sign of the Black Dog.”
Alicia touched his arm. “Nay, my lord,” she told him in a quiet voice. “I will go with you.”
His eyebrows knit together into a dark frown. “’Tis not a matter for a woman.”
She lifted her chin. “Isabel is my enemy, not yours. She wanted to betray me unto death. ‘Tis my right to face her.”
Husband and wife stared at each other for a moment, then Thomas relented. “Your beauty hides the heart of a lion, my sweet. You do your noble father proud.” He gathered her into his arms once again. “Breed me only warriors,” he whispered in her ear. “Methinks I could not handle more than one woman made of your fiery mettle.”
He took Tavie from her, and handed the sleeping dog back to Andrew. “Care for my heroes until we return, Master Ford.”
Bending in his saddle, Andrew swept his master a courtly bow. “‘Tis my honor and pleasure, my lord.” He tucked Taverstock back inside his saddlebag, then whistled to Georgie. The rising moon caught a sparkle in the boy’s eyes. “We will prepare Wolf Hall for a grand celebration. Godspeed, my lord and lady.”
Thomas patted Andrew’s gelding on the rump. “And with you, lad.”
The squire turned his horse about, then disappeared through the hawthorns. Georgie followed behind him with his long tongue hanging nearly to the ground. Some of the men-at-arms trussed Flash’s body across his horse while others tied Demon into his saddle. Thomas slipped his arm around Alicia’s waist.
“Are you certain sure you want to see this affair to its end?” he murmured in her ear.
She leaned against him. “On my life, Thomas. My very life.”
He pressed his lips to hers. At first, he only caressed her mouth. His touch sent a thousand tingling shocks through her body. She rose on tiptoe, and returned his kiss with fervor. He twined his tongue with hers as if he would devour her, then he pulled away. She clung to his shoulders. Her mouth burned with his fire.
“We ride,” he whispered, his hot breath fanned her cheek. “We will meet the devil’s handmaiden in her lair. Later, by God, I will do you full justice.”
His promise made her heart leap for joy.
He lifted her onto Silver Charm’s saddle, then swung himself up behind her. “Kirby, Ozwald, attend on me, and follow!”
Thomas spurred his charger into a canter. Alicia held tight to the pommel as the horse swept through the hawthorn branches. The cool night air blew into her face. Thomas pulled her back against his solid chest.
“‘Tis good that you accompany me, my sweet,” he said. “Your pure heart will keep me from doing an injury to that shrew.”
She squeezed his arm that held her around her waist. She gulped great draughts of air, and thanked all the saints in heaven for the gift of her husband and protector.
You chose wisely for me, Sir Edward Brampton.
Isabel had waited until nearly midnight for her minions to return with their prize. When the candle on her sideboard began to sputter in its wax, she decided that they had been unsuccessful that day. No use to lose her own sleep over their ineptitude. She climbed into the inn’s sorry excuse for a bed, pulled the covers up to her chin, and had no difficulty falling into a deep sleep.
The chamber’s door burst open with the force of a whirlwind. Wood splintered against the plaster wall. Isabel bolted upright. In the dim light of the moon through the tiny dormer window, she saw her room fill up with men brandishing swords and daggers. One of them grabbed Meg before the imbecile maid could utter a scream. Isabel shielded herself with a pillow.
“Who dares to disturb my sleep in this unholy fashion?” she demanded in the bravest voice she could muster.
Someone struck a flint to the candle. In the flickering light she beheld Thomas standing over her. Wildfire danced in his eyes.
“Good evening, Isabel,” he growled.
She snorted in reply. “What jest is this, Thomas? I am in no mood for any mad prank of yours. Begone!”
He bared his teeth like one of his dogs. “No jest, sister-in-law, unless you consider abduction, theft and rape to be entertaining.”
Her words of rebuke died on her lips when Thomas stepped aside, and she saw Alicia standing next to him. The woman’s long hair hung unbound and tangled; her rich gown was torn and muddy. Despite her fear, Isabel felt a certain satisfaction with her usurper’s bedraggled appearance.
She glanced again at Thomas. He looked like one of the dreaded horsemen of the apocalypse. All he lacked was a fiery sword. She realized belatedly that she had pushed the Earl of Thornbury too far. The blade of his dagger glowed red in the candlelight.
Alicia placed her hand over his that held the knife. At her touch, he visibly softened a little, though he still looked like a sinner’s worst nightmare. Isabel’s intuition told her that her only hope of salvation lay with Alicia. She pasted a weak grin on her face. She must brazen out this debacle. Her lips trembled.
“I am relieved to see you here, sister-in-law,” she said. “I beg you to take your poor husband home, and nurse him well. ‘Tis obvious that he is in the throes of one of his fits, and—”
The dagger sang through the air. Thomas sliced open the pillow that Isabel clutched to her breast. Goose feathers fluttered around them like snowflakes in winter. Isabel bit down hard on her lower lip to contain her scream of fear. He has truly gone mad!
“Why did you seek the life of my own?” he asked in a deceptively soft voice.
She tried to swallow, but her throat had gone dry. “I…I have no idea what you are talking about. As you can see, I am a-bed. How could I possibly—”
Thomas leaned over the bed. His face was mere inches from Isabel’s. The smell of her fear tainted his nostrils. “One of your men languishes within York’s dank gaol. After due process of the law, he will suffer a cruel death for his crimes against my wife. I regret that his companion has already paid the full price, and will miss the excitement of a public execution.”
Isabel turned paler, but said nothing.
He continued. “We had a long ride to York this evening. Your henchman talked a great deal. Indeed, he did nothing but babble his misdeeds over and over. With every other word, he pronounced you as the employer of their criminal talents. ‘Twas a tiresome thing to hear him repeat, and repeat your name. Have you anything to add to his confession?”
Like a cornered cat, she narrowed her eyes. She glanced at Alicia, then back to Thomas. “How dare you accuse me of wrongdoing when you yourself have committed a worse crime?”
Thomas stiffened. What game did the little witch play now? he wondered. “How so?”
A thin, cruel smile touched her white lips. “Treason, my lord. You harbor a sworn enemy of the king of England.”
A dart of fear burst inside his chest, though Thomas made sure he exhibited nothing but mild surprise. “Who?” he asked as he put his arm around Alicia’s waist. He could feel her trembling under his fingers, though her expression did not betray her anxiety.
Isabel pointed her finger at his wife, as if it was an arrow to Alicia’s heart. “Her!” She directed her attention past Thomas’s shoulder. “I beg you all here to be my witnesses.”
He looked behind him. Beside Ozwald, who held the fainting maid in his arms, the doorway had filled with a number of the inn’s customers. Alicia gasped under her breath. Thomas gave her a reassuring squeeze. Now that an audience was present, he knew exactly what course to take. He had had years of practice.
He chuckled. “I fear that the lady is moonstruck,” he tossed over his shoulder to the gawking crowd. “My wife is the virtuous daughter of Master Edward Broom, a well-known and respected gold merchant in the city of York.”
Several of the onlookers murmured their agreement. Thomas thanked the stars for their witness.
Isabel tossed her black hair out of her face. “Ha! She is a Plantagenet. I heard her say so with her own mouth. She is one of King Edward’s misspent seeds grown to maturity.”
Thomas shook his head with a show of sadness. “Alas, grieving creature,” he murmured. Then to the people behind him, he added, “My sister-in-law’s mind is unhinged by my poor brother’s untimely death.”
A few muttered sympathetic sounds.
“Look at her!” Isabel shrieked. Her face changed color from white to mottled red in a matter of seconds. “She is the very image of the late king.”
Thomas pretended even more surprise. “In truth? Were you a close friend of King Edward?” He remarked to the onlookers, “Methinks she is older than I first suspected.”
The people chuckled at his witty observation. Thomas gave Alicia another squeeze. Do not swoon, my love. I have not yet finished this piece of mummery.
Isabel rose to her knees in the middle of the bed, so that the crowd could see her better. Thomas obligingly stepped to one side, pulling his beloved into deeper shadow.
“I have seen the late king’s portrait,” Isabel announced. “And I have heard tales of that man. They said he was a golden giant.” She pointed again at Alicia. “That one is tall and has golden hair, the same as the king. Indeed, there are few women in all of England who are as tall as she, except for our queen, Elizabeth Plantagenet—her royal half sister.”
Alicia clutched Thomas’s hand. Her skin was ice cold. He folded his fingers over hers, and warmed them as best he could.
“I saw the queen once,” Isabel continued as her audience grew silent. “When she was crowned in London. My father took us there to take part in the festivities just before I was wed to William Cavendish. The queen and that woman are as alike as two peas from the same pod. Mark you!”
Thomas noticed that Isabel’s finger shook. He exulted silently, then he pulled up a deep roll of laughter from the pit of his stomach.
“The lady’s brain sickness grows worse and worse,” he told the growing crowd who now poured through the chamber’s door. “I do fear for my poor sister-in-law, my friends. Aye, I fear that she may do an injury to herself if she is allowed to continue with this mad delusion.”
Many of the men nodded their agreement with him.
Thomas released his wife, strode over to the bed, and sat down next to Isabel. He put his arm around her shoulder. She started to resist, but he held her more firmly, and pulled her against him so that he could speak to her alone.
“Listen to me well. If you are not suffering from lunacy, then you will stand trial for the same crime as your maimed hireling who attacked Alicia,” he whispered.
Isabel ceased to struggle, and became very still in his grip.
“On the other hand,” he continued, “if you have lost your wits and cannot tell a hawk from a hand, then you must be cared for.”
She gulped. “What do you mean?”
He smoothed her hair over her brow. “You must be put in a dark, safe place, given cold baths every day, and fed only plain foods that will purge your madness.”
She shook her head, and renewed her efforts to pull away from him. Thomas dug his fingers into her bare shoulder.
To the people, he said, “Methinks we have found her just in time.”
The crowd responded in the affirmative.
Thomas lifted his voice so that even the people out in the hallway could hear him. “As her loving brotherin-law and the Earl of Thornbury, I have power over her care. ‘Tis my merciful will that she will be conducted this very day to the Abbey of Saint Luke on Holy Isle in the North Sea, and there—”
“Nay!” Isabel twisted, then flung herself at him, her fingers curled into claws to scratch his face.
He grabbed her wrists, and flattened her backward onto the mattress. He pinned her down with the weight of his body. Her eyes grew wide when he spoke again in her ear.
“There, the holy sisters, who have dedicated their lives to healing the brainsick, will lay their gentle hands on you,” he whispered to her, “for the rest of your natural life.”
Isabel went very still. He released her, and again addressed the company. “Good friends, I thank you for your concern, but I beg that you withdraw in order to give my poor sister-in-law time to dress.” He stood up, his great size filling the small room. “Good night, and pleasant dreams to you all,” he said as he ushered the rabble out of the door.
Isabel dragged herself to her knees again. Tears streamed down her face. “Forgive me, Thomas,” she sobbed. “Alicia, please! Have mercy on me!”
Thomas ignored the soft look that crept into his wife’s blue eyes. He crossed his arms over his chest “Forgiveness comes from God alone, Isabel. While you are healing your mind, perchance you can heal your soul, as well.”
He glanced at Meg, who had revived from her swoon. “Get your mistress dressed,” he ordered. “She rides from here in an hour, and I care not how she is clothed. The quicker you are, the happier you will be anon.”
Once again, Isabel hurled herself at him. “Thomas! You cannot do this!”
He caught her as if she weighed nothing. “Aye, I can, and I will.” He tossed her back on the bed amid the hundreds of goose feathers. “Have done with me, woman, and count your blessings that you will not face the burning stake for your sins. For my part, I wash my hands of you forever.”
He slipped his arm around Alicia. “Come, my sweet. You must be exhausted.” He led her out the door, and closed it softly behind him. “Stand guard,” he told Ozwald.
As they descended to the first floor, they could hear Isabel’s bloodcurdling screams behind them. Alicia shivered. Thomas held her tighter against himself.
“Stark, staring mad,” he explained to the gaping landlord, as the couple passed by him.