Kathryn Kramer (9 page)

Chapter Thirteen

The inner courtyard rang with the sound of women's laughter and the chatter of men as the workers of the establishment went about their day.  Alandra heard one of the kitchen maids telling a story as she and Christopher walked by.  She slowed her steps in order to listen to the tale of the Biddenden Maids who had lent fame to the village since the twelfth century.  It was said that the two sisters had been joined together at the hips since birth, a frightening omen.  For thirty-four years the two women had never been free of each other's company.  But their tragedy turned into prosperity for the town when at their death they had allotted twenty acres of their land to aid the poor.  In gratitude, their portrait had been painted and hung in the guild hall for all to see.

"I feel a bit like those poor unfortunate maids," Alandra whispered beneath her breath. 

Surely Christopher--or Nicholas Leighton as she now knew him to be--hovered as close to her as if they too were joined together like the ill-fated twins. She felt his warm breath upon the curve of her neck as they entered the front door of the inn, and she cast him a dour look.  Oh, how she wanted to make an outcry of his guilt, but now that she knew beyond a doubt that he was dangerous she kept quiet.  The thought of having some poor innocent person's death upon her conscience made her doubly cautious. 

Reaching down inside her bodice
, she secured the handbill.   How did she know he would not murder her were she to prove an inconvenience? She had to be sly in the timing of her revelation of his guilt.   But the time would come!   Then she would get even with him for his highhanded treatment of her.

The memory of whisperings she had heard through the door of the Black Unicorn came to her mind.  There had been a woman speaking with the others, saying vehemently that the man accused was innocent, that she had witnessed the deed herself.  Could it possibly be?  No!  As the broadside scratched against her breast
, she was reminded of all of Christopher's sins and pushed the possibility of his innocence away.

"I'm going to speak with the innkeeper."  Nicholas's whisper jolted her from her musing
s.  "Speak not a word or you will rue it."

She swallowed an angry retort
as they sought out the innkeeper, a gray-haired, short little man with an ever-growing bald spot atop his head.  As he welcomed them with a genuine smile, Nicholas gave out the story that he and Alandra were newly wed.  The blush that stained her cheeks seemed to corroborate his story.  When she opened her mouth to speak, she was quickly silenced by a gentle poke to her ribs.

"Recently married.  How charming.  How delightful."  The innkeeper's smile widened
, and he insisted they be given the second best room in the inn for the price of a lesser one.  "Come, I'll show you the way."  The appraising glance he gave Alandra seemed to say that he envied her husband.  A stern look from Alandra told Nicholas he had best keep his hands to himself, no matter what untruth he had instigated.

It was musty and smoky inside the Red Lion Inn and though Nicholas's garments were
begrimed, no one seemed to notice.  It was a gathering of various social classes, a diversity represented in the clothing of the guests.  Immersed in conversation, intellectual and otherwise, few of the inn's guests seemed to notice the man nor the young woman at his side.             

Following the rotund form of the proprietor up the wooden stairway, Alandra
grew more and more nervous.  Christopher had killed once.  How did she know that he would not kill again. Kill her!  Certainly it would make it easier for him, but then again he needed her.  Her very presence insured his safety.  A lone traveler was being hunted but not one who had a wife.  He knew it!  How sly he was!

Christopher, she thought crossly, it was not even his name.  Touching th
e broadside, she remembered anew the glaring black letters.  This arrogant nobleman had kept many things secret but it was about time he made her privy to at least a few facts about himself.

"This room will be perfect," she heard him tell the innkeeper, thrusting a shilling into the man's outstretched hand
. "Please make certain that no one disturbs us.  I believe you get my meaning, eh my good man?"  He punctuated his question with a bold wink at the innkeeper. 

A hearty chuckle was the innkeeper's answer as he took his leave, closing the door behind him.

Alandra seethed with anger.  He had told his falsehood without even one thought for her good name.  "A pox on you for such audacity!" she swore, casting her eyes uneasily at the four-poster bed along the far wall.  Share a room she might, but she would not share a bed.  "Imagine telling that kind old man that we are legally wed."

Nicholas sought to placate her.  He wasn't in the mood for a t
irade.  "It seemed the only way," he answered calmly.

At least he
could assure their privacy and keep them above suspicion?  At the same time it would afford him the chance to keep her safely within his sight.  He swore an oath as he fumbled at the laces of his doublet, anxious to strip it off.  That offending garment was coated with the road's dust and his sweat.  Opening the window, he hung it over the sill to air before tomorrow's journey.

Alandra eyed him warily as he took of
f his boots.  "The only way?" she asked softly, her eyes darting from Nicholas to the bed and back again.  A strange quiver danced up her spine.  Of all his sins was he a rapist as well?  If so, he was in for a surprise if he thought her to be an easy target.

"Do not look so uneasy."  Nicholas had noted the direction of her eyes.  "Your virtue is safe with me
.” Wearily he plopped down in a chair, too exhausted to argue any further.                

Taking a deep breath
, she resigned herself to the situation, determining to make the best of it.  What else could she do?

While Nicholas rested, Alandra walked around the room.  It was decorated most becomingly with wall hangings, a small oak table and matching chairs.  A comfortable room.  A stone hearth gave promise of warmth if it became necessary to start a fire, though on a warm night such as this one, she doubted it would be necessary.

Mullioned windows looked out over the courtyard, and she could see the bright flames of the lanterns down below, looking like fireflies from the distance.  Reaching the window, she put her index finger against the glass.  It looked so peaceful, yet she knew instinctively the flurry of excitement that would stir were it known a wanted man was at the inn. 

"Where are we going from here?" she asked, staring out the window as if
she could see his intended path through the dark wisps of the night.

"To
Cranbrook, then south to Bodiam."  he answered, stretching his long muscular limbs.

Alandra could not help watching him out of t
he corner of her eye.  What a magnificently proportioned man he was, broad at the shoulders, trim in the waistline.  His arms and legs gave proof of his strength yet she knew his hands could be gentle.

"To Bodiam?"

"I have urgent business there.  I go to see my brother."

"Your brother."  Was he a liar, a murderer and a thief too?  She wanted to ask but thought better of taunting him.  "And just h
ow do I figure in your plans?"  It was a question she had to ask no matter how she feared the answer.  Would she be locked up?  Held against her will?

His eyebrows furled together in a frown.  "Shouldn't you have asked yourself that question before you came flying after me?  You have inj
ected yourself into my scheme, mistress, but I will see that you are escorted back to your father and the others."  Wanting to change the subject before another argument ensued he asked, "Are you as hungry as I am?"

"Probably hungrier.  I think I could well eat a whole side of beef without even washing it down with ale?  Shall we see?" 

Nicholas had closed his eyes and looked tolerably serene, but he opened his eyes quickly as she started for the door. "Where are you going, girl?"  He was on his feet in the blink of an eye, blocking her way.

"Downstairs so that we may sup.  Was that not what you intended?" S
he glared at him, sending sparks from her dark brown eyes.

"We will have supper sent up to us."

Opening the door, Nicholas made his wishes known to a chambermaid coming down the hall, and in no time at all the oak table was overloaded with a veritable feast which was eaten with great relish.  Roast gull basted in honey, bread, fig pudding and an assortment of vegetables and fruits were appreciatively devoured.  When at last the empty plates and goblets of wine were pushed aside, Alandra gave in to her curiosity to know more about this dark-haired nobleman.  For the time being all ill will was cast aside.  Perhaps if she pretended to be friendly, it would allow her to take him unaware.  Her father had always said that you could attract more flies with honey than with vinegar.

"You mentioned your brother.  What kind of a man is he?" 

After the complete silence, the abrupt question seemed to startle Nicholas but he answered her inquiry with a slight smile.

"A lad about your age.  Eighteen years old."  A spark of happiness came into his eyes.  "Sharp of mind and ready of wit!  A youth of whom I am most proud."

"Is he much like you?"  Heaven hope that he was not. She envisioned a younger version of Nicholas somehow.  Another philanderer and ladies' man.

"My brother is red of hair, a trait he acquired from my maternal grandmother.  He is lithe of form and wields not a sword but a pen."

Closing his eyes momentarily, he thought of happier times when his family had been together.  He prayed that they would not be punished for his supposed crime.  Surely Elizabeth would remember the loyalty the Leighton's had always granted to her.   Where were his younger sisters now?  Mary.  Jane. He supposed they would each be in their nurseries, singing lullabies to their just-birthed babes.  Jane in Norfolk and Mary in Suffolk.  And his cousin Jonathan. Always a seafarer, his cousin Jonathan had taken his wife across the seas to view for herself the colony in Virginia he had established for the queen. 

"What of
you, Alandra?  Have you any siblings to share your hearth?"

"No!"  Her answer was short and clipped as all the old curiosities came to her mind.  Over and over again she had tried to tell herself that her ignorance of her past did not matter, yet now
she believed that it did.  It made her feel so empty inside not to know the truth of her birth. "That is to say that I don't think so."  Did she have siblings?  If so, had they been kept or also dropped along the road like unwanted kittens?

"Don't think so?"  Nicholas was puzzled.

"Murray is not my real father you see," she said averting his gaze, "though I could not love him more if he were.  He...he found me and raised me as his own.  I have not an inkling of who I am."  Strange how she found herself so freely telling him the story of Murray's discovery of a child in a basket and the early years of her childhood.  But then, what did it matter?  "I've tried to push any wonderings out of my mind, but every so often I think about who my parents might have been.  Perhaps a merchant couple or tradesman and his wife."  Her eyes filled with sudden tears.  "It is frightful to think that they abandoned me."

Nicholas raised his head to look at her and a softness came into his eyes.  "I'm sorry, Alandra.  I had no idea." 

How very wrong he had been when he had imagined Murray as a widower raising his motherless daughter. Come to think of it, though, he should have seen that they bore no resemblance.   Was it possible that he might have been wrong about other things as well?

Suddenly he wanted to believe that Alandra would never betray him.  He needed desperately to confide in someone and wanted it to be her.  Little minx that she was, he was fiercely attracted to her.  Strange how quickly she was capturing his hea
rt.  If only he could trust her,  trust anyone with his secret.  But alas, he could not!  Especially her, for she was a woman.

Bitterly h
e remembered how quickly another woman had turned on him when there was danger.  Morgana had only been concerned with saving her reputation, and had left him to face his punishment alone.  As if it had not been her foolishness that had gotten him into that mess in the first place! 

He had to be wary.  Cautious.  As silent as
a mime.  And yet, were this another place, another time, and if he was not in such perilous danger, he might well have wooed Alandra Thatcher as she justly deserved.

But there is danger, lurking around every corner
, he thought shaking his head.  He must not forget that fact, no matter how winsome the wench might be.  He watched her actions vigilantly as she settled herself against the pillows of the bed, nestling herself into their softness.  She soon closed her eyes, completely exhausted  from the journey.  Curled up among the blankets, she looked so achingly lovely  that it touched his heart.  If only she had not become enmeshed in his troubles.

"You seem to arouse tender feelings in me, Alandra," he
whispered, walking quietly to the bed.  He felt protective of her, but not to such an extent that the sight of her did not spark his desires.  It would be best not to put too much temptation in his own path, he reasoned.