Beloved Enemy (34 page)

"Stop it
!"
she
exploded, knowing that he was reminding her of her own vulnerability, of her
need for his protection from those who would use her with whatever cruelty took
their fancies. His methods were indeed subtle, she reflected with bitter
self-knowledge. Just with that little game, with-out even getting out his
chair, he had weakened her.

"Peter said
that
Edmund had gone . . .
"
She stopped again, struggling
visibly with herself, hoping he would be convinced of her overpowering
reluctance to tell him. "Why must I betray him again?" Alex didn't
answer her, and she said in a low, defeated whisper. "Edmund has gone into
Kent to aid the forces there. Peter did not know if he was safe, but he said he
would have passed this way. I thought that maybe there would be someone in the
village who might give me news of him.
"

"Where did you go to find this news?"

Some blessed instinct told her to tell the truth.
"
The Black Cock," she whispered.

There was a short silence; then Alex said, "I
congratulate you, Virginia. Had you lied to me then, you would be in much
deeper waters than you are now."

"How did you know
that
was where I would go?" She stared at him in a fearful kind of wonder. He
seemed always to be a step ahead.

Alex smiled. "The Black Cock's reputation is well known
in these parts. It harbored fugitives from the law long before this damned war.
If a fleeing Royalist passed through Wimbledon, they would know of it in the
Black Cock. Who told you to go there?"

"Peter," Ginny lied. "He said if we were to
pass through Wimbledon, then . . ." Again she stopped, but this time out
of the knowledge that expanding a lie tended to increase
the
risk of exposure.

"What news did you hear?"

"
Why
must I tell you?" she asked again. "It is old news. What good can it
do you to hear it?"

"You know why you must tell me, little rebel. Just as
you know you must pay the penalty for this night's work. In this, we are
enemies, and while I acknowledge you have won a victory, I must minimize the
consequences of that victory."

It was true, and she could not deny it. While Alex did not
know the extent of her victory, she would come out of this triumphant, whatever
penalty he decided to exact.

"Edmund did pass through several days ago. He was well
and in good spirits. They have not heard tell of his capture since." She
employed almost exac
tl
y the words used by the old man in
the tavern, knowing that Alex would recognize the verisimilitude. Would he be
satisfied?

She felt nauseated by the tension of the next seconds, while
he sat still, examining her through narrowed eyes. Then, very slowly, he
nodded. "You played a clever game today, Ginny. I believed in your
pain."

"And do you not
th
ink
I felt it?" she demanded, suddenly enraged at the implication that Peter's
agony had not really
to
uched her.

"
Oh,
yes, I know you felt it. I did not realize, though, that you were capable of
using it," he said briskly. "I will know better another time. I had
thought I knew not to underesti
m
ate you, but
we all pay for our vanities." Alex stood up.
"
It
is
time you were in bed."

"What are you going to do?" she asked, attempting
to
m
ask her apprehension.

"Had this just been between the two of us, I would have
done nothing except watch you in future like a hawk
,
" he
to
ld
her. "Unfortunately
,
the entire brigade is aware by now
of your
little
escapade, and you cannot be seen to
go scot-free. Major Bonha
m
, as your might imagine, is more than
a little chag
r
inned. He was with me, you see, when
I decided to check on you. The bolster is an old trick, Ginny, but I grant that
in the dark it might have fooled someone who did not know the shape of you
.
" A glint of laughter showed momentarily in the
green-brown eyes. "The major insisted on sending a search party into the
fields, which I allowed him to do to salve his conscience, although I knew you
would be back when you had completed your business."

"How could you be so sure?"

"Because you could no more leave me than I could allow
you to do so," he said simply.
"
We
are tied by a Gordian knot, you and I. Get into bed now. Reveille is in two
hours. I wish to reach London by noon."

Alex showed no inclination to leave the room, and Ginny r
e
alized that he was going to see her into bed quite
literally. She felt strangely peculiar undressing in front of him as he watched
with neutral, objective eyes that were a far cry from t he sensuous eyes of the
lover. Not that she had the energy
for
even the smallest spark herself, but it was a little galling to climb into bed
and receive an almost fraternal kiss on the forehead. As he left the room, he
said, "There is now a sentry posted outside your window, should you make
the mistake of trying another unorthodox departure."

Ginny muttered something childishly rude in response, and
Alex chuckled, closing the door softly. The instant before she fell into a deep
dreamless sleep, Ginny realized that she still did not know what penalty she
would have to pay in the morning, but she did know that whatever it was she
would bear it willingly, because she had won, hands down. A hapless prisoner,
she had duped Parliament's forces, had acted as King Charles's messenger, had
been instrumental in ensuring that any confession forced from Peter would have
no ill effects, so that he could the without shame. And, last but far from
least, as far as she knew, Edmund was still safe.

Two hours later, in the cold gray light of dawn, those last
uplifting thoughts had no power to overcome the combined dead weights of
fatigue, anticlimax, and apprehension. Hetty, the innkeeper's daughter, brought
her white bread, with curds in a bowl, and a jug of cold water for washing. The
cold water was cheerless, but salutary. The breakfast was equally cheerless,
and the knot of tension in her belly made it impossible to swallow. Something
unpleasant was going to happen to her today, and, since the object was to
demonstrate to everyone that Parliament's ward had not escaped with impunity,
whatever it was, was going to happen publicly.

It was almost with relief that she responded to Diccon
'
s subdued knock on her door, his voice hesitantly
saying that it was time to leave. At least now she would find out the worst.
The lieutenant seemed to avoid her eye, and his response to her good morning
was a mere mumble, all of which Ginny found far from reassuring. with Diccon,
at least, she had always felt easy, however uncomfortable the situation.

She preceded him out into the street. The sky was heavy and
overcast in the gray light of early morning. Th
e
brigade was drawn up, the officers mounted at the head. Except for
Alex, who stood between Bucephalus and Jen, holding the mare's bridle, his
expression impassive. Ginny wondered if she was imagining the brooding, waiting
quality of the silence that seemed unnaturally absolute for such a large group.

"
I
give you good day, colonel," she said, managing to sound as if it were the
most ordinary morning.

"
Good
morrow, Virginia," he returned.
"
Come
round here so
that
I may help you mount."

His voice was calm and even, but her pulse speeded and
fluttered as she moved round to the far side of her horse. Alex put her into
the saddle, then said quietly
,
"
Place your hands on the pommel,
please, one on top of the other.
"

It seemed to Ginny as if two-hundred pairs of eyes were upon
her. She was too proud to ask why he wanted thi
s
and did as he said without a word. He placed a hand against her hip.
"Move up a little; I want to be certain you can reach the pommel without
strain on your arms.
''
She inched forward, feeling the
warmth of his palm through the material o
f
her skirt. When he was satisfied with her position, Alex took his hand away and
reached into the pocket of his jerkin, drawing out a broad strip of cloth. As
she stare
d
at her hands in mesmeric shock, he
bound her wrists together.

"
You
may hold the pommel for safety
"
he told
her in the same level tones, running a finger between the material and her
skin.
"
The binding will not chafe if you do
not pull against it. If you do fight it, the knot will simply tighten.
" 
Without another word, he fastened a
thin, learner rein to Jen's bridle just above the bit, then swung onto
Bucephalus, holding the leading rein loosely with his own. He raised his free
hand toward Major Bonha
m
, an order was shouted, the drums
began to roll, and
the
brigade moved forward down the road
to London.

Ginny wished, as she had so often done as a child, that she
could make herself invisible at will. In those last desperate moments when
discovery and retribution were inevitable, it had always seemed the only
salvation. But it had not worked then, and it did not work now. She did not
even have on her cloak, with the hood that she could pull down low over her
face to hide her deep, mortified flush and the tears of embarrassment pricking
her eyes. She could not allow them to flow, she thought with dreadful resolve.
She could not possibly wipe them away discreetly with her hands tied, and it
would merely draw attention to her predicament.

Damn Alex for hitting upon such an appallingly appropriate
punishment for her offense. There was no cruelty, no pain, the cloth was soft
as silk, the knot loose enough to permit movement of her wrists. But she was
rendered completely helpless, obliged to hang onto the pommel to keep her
balance, her horse obeying the dictates of someone other than her rider.
Ginny's prisoner status was made manifest, and her captor was declaring to all
and sundry that she would not have the opportunity to evade captivity again.

She found
that
while she
was definitely angry, she could not help a certain begrudging admiration for
his ingenuity, or the knowledge that some punitive action on Alex's part was
justified. The consequences of their enmity had been understood between the
lovers from the first. Alex had always said that he would protect the one
whilst circumventing the other. Her best course now lay in graceful acceptance
of this indignity that she had, with open eyes, brought upon herself. She had
still won, after all.

That thought brought a tiny smile to her lips, and there was
no longer any question of tears. She held her head high, straightened her
shoulders, and began to take an interest in her surroundings. How soon would it
be before they caught the first glimpse of London? She had never been to the
metropolis, though Edmund had told her much of its glories, whetting her
appetite unmercifully. The atmosphere would be rather different now, she
imagined, when the riotous luxury of the king
'
s court had given way to the sober decorum of a Puritan Parliament. They
were approaching the city from the south, so they would have to cross the River
Thames if they were to enter the center of the city. Would they do so by London
Bridge, Ginny wondered, or take the horse ferry at Lambeth Palace? She knew
from Edmund that there were no other routes across.

Now so absorbed in this fascinating question as to forget her
annoyance at him, if not the cause of it, she was about to ask Alex, when he
said suddenly, "Diccon, take Jen's rein, will you? I wish to ride ahead
with Major Bonham."