Kathryn Kramer (28 page)

Chapter Thirty-Five

Queen Elizabeth strolled in the garden at Greenwich, ignoring the tall man hovering at her side as was her way when she was displeased. Carefully picking up the skirt of her black dress, embroidered with pearls and silver thread, she was obvious in her effort to avoid Lord Owen Stafford as she moved toward the eager-to-please young male courtiers clustered by the yew trees.

But he was not to be thwarted. Picking a large white rose, he blocked her path. “A rose for a rose,” he said coyly, offering it to her.

Elizabeth sniffed indignantly. “I do not like yon flower. It makes me sneeze.”

Tossing it over his shoulder,
Stafford forced a smile to hide his irritation. “Then from this day on I abhor it as well, Your Majesty. I will give orders to my gardener that all the roses in my garden be plucked lest on one of your visits they annoy you.”

“On one of my visits?” She toyed with the great rope of pearls around her neck as she looked at him. Dressed in white and black as was she, he looked almost as if he were her consort. “And just what makes you think that I intend to come?” It pleased her that he was so anxious to regain her favor.

“Knowing how fond Your Majesty is of the hunt, I have planned a special surprise,” he answered, flashing her the boyish smile that had first won her affection.

“A hunt. How boring.”  She
put her hand up to her mouth as if to stifle a yawn. “That is unless you intend to provide the one quarry I am interested in. That I would find amusing.”

You mean Sir Nicholas Leighton!” His smile quickly faltered.

“I do!” Though he had been making promises proclaiming that he would capture Sir Nicholas any day, Lord Stafford had yet to fulfill his boasts. Elizabeth was quickly losing patience. “With all the time that has passed, I wonder that he is not all the way to Spain by now."

He started to make excuses, but she held up her hand. Turning her back on him, she moved toward the waiting courtiers. “Shall we ride, my lords?”

Not a word was spoken requesting that he come along. It was an intentional slight. “Damn her! And damn him!” Stafford swore.  Never had he detested Nicholas Leighton more. Watching as Elizabeth headed off to the stables where her horse would be saddled by several waiting grooms, he wracked his brain as to where his rival could be. Was the queen right? Had he taken a ship and crossed the Channel? Was he in France or Spain, laughing behind his hand at them? It was a question still on his mind as the queen and her entourage thundered past.

“I have to find him and put him where he belongs!”
he muttered under his breath. It had become an all-driving need, an obsession.

“Psssst!”

Stafford turned his head in the direction of the sound. It was coming from behind a tree, but he didn’t even seek the source of the rude whisper.

“Pssssst, your Lordship!”

A man stepped from his hiding place, the kind of man Stafford usually avoided, but who on some occasions was very necessary. A man who was as much at odds with his elaborate surroundings as was a rat in a highly bred kennel.

“Bloody hell! What on earth are you doing here?”

“Trying to find you.”

“Me?” He was incensed. What if someone thought he knew this man, that he was an acquaintance?

“I know where ‘e is. I figured it out in my head. Sir Nicholas Leighton.”

Stafford
’s ears pricked up at the name. “Where?”

Will Frizer danced around. “Oh, no. The broadside says there is a reward. First the money, then I’ll tell. After all, you are not the only one ‘oo wants to know.”

With a grumble, Stafford reached in his purse, counting the money out. He was short by a large sum of shillings. “I’ll give you this now, but you’ll have to come back for the rest.”

Frizer shook his head. “Ah, no! I’ve been burned by that one before. By someone else. And that’s why I come to give the information to you instead. It seems to me that you are trustworthy, and it never ‘urts to ‘ave several patrons, particularly when it is obvious ‘at you are eager to know.”

Stafford pulled off one of his rings, choosing the gold one with several diamonds. “Here. This should more than suffice. Now tell me.” If the man was just full of hot air, he’d get it back or see him hang.

“Well, sir, you see it’s this way. I puzzled it over, wondering as it was ‘ow he could ‘ave just melted out of sight .  I remembered hearing ’ow ‘e and a young woman escaped right out from underneath yer nose when you had set that trap in Bodiam.”

“Don’t remind me.” Stafford didn’t want to hear any more about it.

Frizer rattled on. “Well, now. Will, I says to meself, just ‘ow  did ‘e do it? The
n it came to me in a flash. In Bodiam  ‘e was dressed like an old man, ‘e was, but it wasn’t the last time he took to that disguise. “He revealed to Stafford about being chased in Dover by a gray-haired, bearded man, one amazingly skilled with a sword.

“So?”

“Old men but not really old men at all.”

“Not really old.”
Stafford grunted in disgust and was about to send his unwanted visitor away.

“Actors! Like
in the play. That’s where ‘e is, on that I’ll stake my name.”

Stafford
eyed the ruffian with distaste. “I doubt that you have one.”

“Ole Sir Nicholas is with the actors. That, sir, if you will forgive me, is as plain as the nose on yer face. “E’s joined with a traveling troupe. There be no better place to hide then with them.”

Stafford was taken aback ,but the more he thought about it, the more sense it made. Actors often changed their appearance so drastically when on stage that even their own mothers wouldn’t  know them. Why hadn’t he thought of it?

With the actors! God’s breath!” Well, he wouldn’t waste any more time. There were a hundred things to do to prepare for his journey to
Dover and beyond.

Chapter Thirty- Six

Nicholas felt at peace with himself and lighter of heart. He had unburdened his conscience to Murray, and for the first time in a long while he really did feel as if he had begun a whole new life. Now instead of court politics, Alandra was the center of his world, the most delightful companion he had ever known.

Each time they were together, he fell more and more under her spell. Thoughts of other women faded into obscurity. There was only room for Alandra, in his heart and soul.   He had made his decision to begin a new life and he would hold to it for her sake.  From now on Sir Nicholas Leighton was gone and in his place was a far happier fellow, Christopher Nicholas by name, an actor by profession.  A promising one if he did say so himself.

By the time the acting company had moved out of Marlborough, Nicholas had  relaxed. Though there was a reward out for his capture, he had not run into any trouble. None of the actors treated him suspiciously. Nor had Shakespeare told him he must leave, despite the predicament Nicholas might create for them. Will seemed after all to be a man who could be trusted, one whose opinion was not molded by circumstances. Perhaps after all Shakespeare too believed him innocent, and Alandra’s confidence in him made Nicholas nearly believe he could have a new life. When a man was in love, anything was possible.

Love. What a powerful word it was, he thought.  Once he had scoffed at its existenc
e but he wasn't dubious now. He gave in to romantic passion with a zeal that rivaled any written about in Shakespeare's plays.   He besieged Alandra with verses borrowed from Will, and as he grew braver, sonnets of his own, hoping they were not more than a little out of rhyme. If love had turned him into a besotted fool he didn't care, this feeling was so new to him.              

Strange.  Once he would have thought his actions totally ridiculous. He would have been embarrassed to make such a show of affection over any woman, yet now he found that he was relaxing and totally enjoying himself.  Never had he felt so alive. Today the sky was an azure blue, the leaves an emerald green, the blossoms of the flowers so colorful they nearly blinded the eye.  The kind of day to enjoy with someone special. Was it any wonder then that while the actors  settled themselves in at the inn and hurried to enjoy the warm waters of the baths, he and Alandra had slipped away?  Nestled beneath  an old oak tree they lay together on the soft  grass.

"What are you thinking....?" Alandra contented herself with watching the play of expressions chase over Nicholas's face, hoping that he was even half as contented as she. 

"About you and how happy you make me."  Alandra lay soft and warm against him, her breasts pressed tightly to his chest, tempting him.  "And that the days are moving much too quickly.  How I will hate to see  summer leave."

"I know,"  she whispered wistfully. "These weeks have been  such a magical time for us."

Nicholas noticed her soulful expression.  "And just what are you thinking, my lady love?"

"That we are just too happy.  I'm afraid that something might happen to end this contentment."  Always at the back of Alandra's mind was the knowledge that Christopher was a nobleman and she but a stageman's daughter.  "How long can our happiness last, Christopher?" Despite her hope that perhaps something might happen to aid Christopher in clearing his name, so far nothing had surfaced. Will Frizer had vanished, his last hope, or so Christopher said.

He answered optimistically, "forever...."  Drawing her closer as if to assure her, his hands sought the warmth of her slim body.  

Alandra was nearly afraid to hope, even though all was calm now. One day the past would come  back to haunt them, to intrude upon their peace.  She gazed around the grove, wanting to engrave its every detail upon her memory.  She wanted to remember how the sun streamed through the branches of the trees, casting shadows, making it appear like a nymph's lair.  How the wind whispered through the trees.  "Forever.  You truly believe that...?" 

In answer he nuzzled her ear.  "Mmmmmm." It was as if some strange madness possessed him for he was much too happy.  Would the days' passing put end to it?  "I wanted to spend at least a part of the daylight hours with you.”

Alandra pulled up a blade of grass and ran it over the chiseled contours of his face, pleased that he had made such a commitment.  How  much she longed to know everything about him, she thought, then suddenly smiled.

"I wish I could have seen you when you were but a boy."

"When I was a lad?"  He threw back his head and laughed.  "I was tall and gangly, always getting into fights with some boy or other.  My mother was incensed  that my garments always were in need of cleaning or mending."  A far away look came into his eyes.  "I whittled a sword out of a tree branch.  Even then I dreamed of being the greatest swordsman in the land."

She could nearly imagine the scene of a young Christopher fighting valian
tly with anyone who dared incur his wrath.  "And were you?"

"Aye!  If not the best I came very close," he answered with more than a hint of pride.   "Indeed, I did very well for myself."

"And do you miss it?" she asked wistfully.

Did he?  Nicholas could truthfully answer "no".  A subtle change had come over him.   A maturity that only life's experiences could bring.  "I thought the answer to everything was in being the most powerful.  The most skillful.    As if life were little more than
a test of wills.  I was so cocky then, thinking that right would always overpower wrong." 

"I have to believe it
does," she said sadly.  "Just as it will where you are concerned.  Surely the queen will find out that it was not you who slew that old lord."  Her voice was choked, the words painful as she said, "and you will be restored to favor."
And then we will have to say goodbye
, she thought but did not say.

             
"I would have my good name set to rights, but as to regaining Elizabeth's good will I have no longing for that.  To be one of her peacocks is not what I have planned."  His hands wrapped in the tangle of her dark tresses as he kissed her, his tongue parting her lips until she yielded her mouth to him.  "For now you are my love and my life, Alandra."

"Are you telling me you have no wish to return to court?"  She noticed a shadow flicker over his face for just an instant.

"My life is here with you," he answered quickly.

He's sacrificing himself for me
, Alandra thought. 
I can not raise myself to the rank of noblewoman and thus he thinks to turn his back on the world he knows.  For me
!

  Nicholas took note of her frown.  Hugging her close in reassurance, he touched his lips to her hair.  "There is no place else I would rather be than lying here beside you.  I tell you truly, Alandra."

She relaxed, leaning her head against his chest.  "Not even at the baths?  Father insists that the waters are the closest to heaven we mortals will ever come."

"Not even there.  I would not want to be anywhere else but here with you."   Spying a red rose Nicholas reached out and plucked it, succumbing to his passionate mood. "Take thou this rose,  since love's own flower it is, and by that rose thy lover captive is."  Smiling he held the flower out for her hand.  "Ah, soon I will be able to rival Shakespeare in weaving words."
             

Inhaling deeply of the fragrant blossoms Alandra touched the petals with wonder.  It was the first time in her life she had ever been so utterly content.  Christopher loved her.  Had she ever doubted that, she did not do so now.  But if she loved him in return how could she let him hide from who he really was, where he belonged?

"Now I ask you.  What are you thinking?"  Nicholas whispered. Lying on his back in the garden he rested his head in Alandra's lap.    

"I was thinking about how very much I wish you would kiss me again." 
             

"I would be a cur not to grant such a wish."  The grass was soft beneath them.  Nicholas pulled her unresisting body beneath him, his muscled length straining against her.  Slowly his mouth made love to hers with mesmerizing kisses that left Alandra weak and dazed.  she felt a mounting passion surge through her.

They were lying upon the grass, her hands beneath  his doublet, his fingers at her bodice, loosing the lacings.  She shivered as he touched her breasts.

"Once I thought lovemaking was only for the night time.  Oh, but I was a foolish girl....."

Her words were smothered by a deep, leisurely kiss as his mouth claimed hers again.  Her mouth opened to him as she closed her eyes.  His kiss left her weak and filled her with that familiar tingling sensation, a heat that centered from the womanly core of her and spread all the way down to her toes.  It was the kind of kiss she had been so hoping for, the kind that was a prelude to the wonders they had shared in that magical glen near Dover.

Nicholas drew a rasping breath as he lifted his mouth from hers.  He realized that what he had always wanted was someone who really cared about him and Alandra  did.  Each day they had spent together reaffirmed how important she was to him, how important they were to each other.

"Somehow I feel as if I really do belong here.  With you....." 

"You do!"  She drew he head back to look up at him, her eyes shining with a special glow.

His lips traced a fiery path down the curve of her neck to her just bared shoulder.  "Mmmm.  Oh, Christopher, don't stop what you are doing...."  His touch warmed her as surely as did the sunshine.

"You taste good."  Deftly he removed her bodice and brought his head down to kiss her soft breasts, gently taking a rose-tipped peak in his mouth, savoring it. 

Soft moans of pleasure floated around them, and Alandra suddenly realized that they came from her own throat.  Her hands clutched at his hair as she pressed against him.

Unmindful of the rocks and twigs they lay side by side, contenting themselves in the pleasure of touching, of kissing.  Weeds tangled in her hair, but she shook them loose with a vibrant toss of her head.  Then her arms went around his neck, answering his kisses with sweet, wild abandon.

"Oh, my sweet, sweet Alandra."  Rolling over on his back, he brushed his lips against her hair.  "This means I love you."  He nuzzled he throat.  "And this."  His mouth traced a path from her collarbone to the tip of her breast.  "And this."  He blended their bodies in an intimate caress.             

Lifting her arms she encircled his neck, wound her fingers in his dark hair.  For an endless time they clung together, their bodies touching intimately. Nicholas's fingers quested for the secrets of her body, then his probing shaft replaced his hand, slipping hotly against her thighs,  teasing the entrance to her softness.  He held her to him for endless moments while spasms of exquisite pleasure sent rippling waves through her, a feeling mirrored in Nicholas's expression.

For a timeless moment she stared into the depths of his gray eyes.  Glorying in the closeness with him it seemed to Alandra that at that very moment her heart moved with love. She felt dizzying sensations course through her blood, like the sparks of a radiating fire, consuming her as she felt the firm touch of his hardened flesh inside her. She writhed under his touch, arching up to meet him as he rose over her. She clung to him, her arms around his neck, her legs locked around his waist, answering his movements with her own. Christopher was her mate. The lines of separateness blended. She was incapable of holding any part of herself from him. She had to love  him with all the strength of her devotion because she could give him no less than her whole self.

With her hands and mouth, her body, she demonstrated the full potency of her love, and he returned her affection in full measure.

Alandra knew as they lay naked together that she was indeed a fortunate  woman.  She had soared above the clouds and was racing towards the sun, there to burst into a hundred tiny sparks of flame.

Nicholas gazed down upon her face, gently brushing back the tangled curls from her eyes. She was his now as surely as if they had spoken vows.  Whispering words of love he made gentle love to her once more, watching her eyes as he brought himself within her once again.  He saw the wonder written upon her face that anything could be so glorious, and in that moment he was filled with a complete sense of contentment.  The world was theirs for the taking. 
             

"Alandra!  Christopher!"  Nicholas and Alandra were startled out of their passion by the sound of Murray's voice.

Bemoaning the old man's intrusion, Nicholas quickly helped Alandra dress , then with his fingers trembling, feeling as if he had ten thumbs, he clothed himself.  "Your father certainly has not an actor's timing," he grumbled as he brushed the grass from her hair.  Standing up he tried to hide his annoyance.  How had Murray found them?

"Thank God!  Thank God!"  Still clutching his bath linen,
Murray was in even a worse state of disarray than the two lovers had been.  His hat was in his eyes, his doublet was unlaced, his stockings fell down around his ankles.  No doubt he had dressed along the way.

"What is it? What has happened?"

Murray held forth a piece of paper.  "This! Oh, Christopher!!"

It was a broadside.  She stared at
it in  horror, reality intruding into her dreams.  "Father.....!"