Kathryn Kramer (23 page)

Though
she had vowed not to listen to his lies again, to avoid this murderer as carefully as if he had the plague, she did not argue as he tugged at her hand.

“We must talk.” When she did not answer, he said, “Please! If you have any feelings at all for me, Alandra, you must hear me out. But not here.” Someone could enter the room at any moment.

“All right,” she agreed.  “I will go with you but first know this. Will Shakespeare knows about you. If anything happens to me, he will know exactly where to look!” There, now let him try to harm her, she thought.

“He knows!” Nicholas held the look of one totally betrayed. Even so, he wanted her to hear him out.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

The moon was
full, a large glowing ball in the black sky. It was a night for lovers, Nicholas thought as he took Alandra’s hand and drew her out to the courtyard. How ironic, for it seemed the conversation that was to pass between them was to be far from that shared by lovers.

“Christopher!”

He put his hand across her mouth, wanting to have the first say. “I have made many mistakes in my life. There are those who might call me stubborn, prideful, a bit of a rogue where women are concerned, headstrong, and like most of us foolish on occasion.” His hand moved from her lips to her chin, then trailed softly to her throat.

They stared at each other, two dark silhouettes against the curtains of the stage. Nicholas’s face was stony, his expression difficult to read. Was it any wonder then that a knot squeezed in the pit of Alandra’s stomach? She had actually come to think that she knew him, but did she ?

They were well out of sight of the others. Were he to put both hands around her neck and squeeze, he cold permanently silence her. He was already wanted for one murder, what would keep him from doing her in, too? For the first time in a long while she was truly frightened. He talked about fools. Surely she was the greatest fool of all to have come out here alone with him.

Look at him
, she thought
, his legs are braced slightly apart as if preparing himself. For what?
  His  graceful, muscular body was taut, his hand as strong as steel as it moved along the column of her throat. It was true that she could scream, but in the time it would take for someone to come to her aid, she could  suffer.

Staring down into her wide brown eyes, dilated black in the darkness, Nicholas was stung by the emotion he read there. At the moment she was terrified of him, was looking at him as if he were some devil or beast. He had to make her listen! Even if he never saw her again, he couldn’t stand to have her think him capable of such a loathsome thing as a cowardly murder. 

“Alandra”.

His voice startled her out of her mesmerized lethargy. She had to get away. Now before it was too late. With that intent, she turned and picked up her skirts to flee, but Nicholas reached out to stop her.

“Let me go!”

Thinking only to halt her flight, Nicholas’s grip on her shoulders was punishing. “I will, but only when you have heard me out.” He pushed her up against the wood of the stage, blocking her escape. “Look at you. You are trembling. God’s blood, but it tears at my heart fo
r you to think that I would ever do you harm, Alandra.”

“I don’t know what to think anymore……..”

“I love you, Alandra!” The words were out before he even realized he had said them.

“Love…” He didn’t know the meaning of the word.  “Let me g…..”

Nicholas’s mouth came down on hers and smothered the
o
. He had to prove to her how deeply he cared for her and this was the only way he knew.

His kiss was fierce, taking her breath
away. He held her lips captive to an assault that was unlike anything Alandra could ever have imagined. She tried to twist her face away, but he wrapped his fingers in her thick hair and jerked her mouth back to his. She could feel the hard, warm length of him against her, heating her own body with a fire that made her burn. But still she struggled against him.

His hand slid over the curve of her hip, pressing her firml
y against him, as his teeth gently nipped at her lips. Then melding his mouth to hers once again, he kissed her deeply, as if in this one moment he cold rob her of her very soul she thought. And well he did! It was like stepping into another realm, a place where only feelings reigned. And her feelings were all too potent.

When at last he pulled away and she could stare back at him, Alandra looked deeply into his eyes, determined to delve into his soul as he had tried to do to her. What she read there
warmed her heart. He did care about her.

“I didn’t kill Lord Woodcliff! I didn’t, Alandra. I know that now.”

For good or for ill, her heart ruled her brain and she found herself believing him, undoubtedly because she wanted to. “Then who did?” she asked

“That man I chased after today is the key. He knows. He was there.” He clenched his jaw. “Or perhaps it was he who did the deed, at
Stafford’s urging no doubt. That ruffian is known to be a hired killer.” He began mumbling, as much to himself as to her. “We were fighting. I was trying to go as easy as I could because I knew of Lord Woodcliff’s frailty. He was once the very best swordsman in the land, but time robs a man of his prowess.”

Clos
ing his eyes, he tried to conjure up the scene. “Woodcliff was lunging blindly at me, angered to the point of carelessness. I remembered Morgana saying something to me and I turned my head only for an instant. I saw the curtains move out of the corner of my eye, but thought nothing of it at the time and yet…”He paused.

“What happened then?”

“I looked back at Lord Woodcliff, and seeing him topple in a heap on the ground assumed that my sword had slain him. But….” He remembered Will Frizer taking to his heels. Why? And Stafford, how had he so conveniently entered upon the scene?

“You are telling me that you didn’t kill him, Christopher, and I want to believe you….” Even so, it was a story that stretched the imagination.

“Alandra, I cannot lie to you and tell you that in the heat of combat or in defending my queen I have not caused a man’s death, but when it comes to honor I swear to you that I have never used my sword to bring about murder! I am not that kind of man! If Lord Woodcliff was struck in the back, as you say, then there is some other explanation than that I killed him. I would never strike a man from behind. Never!” His voice was impassioned in his defense.

Just as Nicholas had drawn on his memory for aid so now did she. She remembered pressing her ear up against her door at the Black Unicorn, trying to hear what was going on outside. At the time what had been said hadn’t meant a thing to her. Now it did. “But he didn’t stab him!” a woman’s voice had shrieked. “I saw for myself what happened…..” A witness! But who? Alandra couldn’t remember the woman’s name, but perhaps she would. Somehow she had to.

“Alandra, do you believe me?”

“Yes,” she breathed. Trusting was
part of loving. How then could she do otherwise but believe what Christopher had told her?

“At least I have that!” At the moment it seemed the most important thing in the world. There was
a price upon his head, he might be betrayed and set upon at any moment, and yet at least he knew that at last Alandra believed in him. “But what am I to do?” He felt so weary, so tired of it all suddenly.

“There is nothing that we
can do,”Alandra whispered. She touched his dark hair, brushing it back from his face. “Except find out who
did
kill Lord Woodcliff.”

Chapter Thirty

The inn was quiet. It was well after nightfall, and most of the players and members of the household were abed. Alandra, however, couldn’t sleep. Silver light from the moon streamed in through the open shutters, illuminating her face as she sat at the small dressing table in her chamber. How many strokes of the brush had she passed through her hair? A hundred? A thousand? She had lost count. All she could think about was what had happened tonight.

Tossing the brush aside, she touched her fingers to her mouth, remembering Christopher’s passionate kiss, his avowal of innocence. He had said that he loved her, and she wanted to believe him though she thought it more likely that his declaration was an outburst spurred on by the moment. He was in serious danger and no doubt knew her to be his only friend, the only one he could turn to. But love her? She ached to believe it, and yet reality nudged at her thoughts, pushing aside her dreams.

She frowned into the polished metal mirror. What would happen if Christopher was able to prove his innocence and reclaim his courtly renown? Would she still be the apple of his eye, she the girl who didn’t even know who she really was? A nobody! She who had been left by the road like discarded refuse, abandoned by her own parents. If only she could reclaim her past, learn who had given her up, then perhaps she could set aside the ghosts who haunted her. But she didn’t know and probably never would.

So much had happened that she didn’t really know what to think anymore. Life had been so simple before Christopher, nay Sir Nicholas Leighton, had come into her life. If Alandra had not been totally happy, at least she had learned to appreciate some contentment among the actors. She had felt as if she nearly belonged. Now all she could wish for was to be something that she wasn’t. Something she could never be. Someone
he
could love.

Rising from the chair, she threw herself down on the bed, tormented by her thoughts and dreams. She was
being selfish, only thinking of herself. If she really loved Christopher, really loved him, she’d want him to be happy. And that happiness could only come when he was back where he belonged. He was a nobleman, not a prompter nor an actor, as out of place among the players as she was at court. If he was innocent, and she believed now that he was, then he deserved to take his rightful place beside Lord Stafford. Thus, somehow, some way, she had to think how to help him.

It was hot in the room, and
though Alandra threw open the shutters, she was uncomfortable. It was such a beautiful night! The branches on the trees seemed to beckon her, motioning her to join them. Realizing that a breath of air was just what she needed, Alandra opened the door to her room, tiptoed down the stairs, and left the inn.

The air was sweet with the smell of flowers, and the leaves of the trees looked like black lace against the sky. The sound of night birds stirred the silence. The world was a beautiful place when all was calm. Taking a leisurely stroll, she appreciated the sights, smells and sounds, while she tried to sort out her thoughts and feelings.

How terrible it would be if she had been accused of something hideous and knew she was innocent of the condemnation. One thing she was sure of. She had to do everything in her power to help Christopher.

Alan
dra thought she heard a twig snap. “Christopher?” Looking around , she expected to see him, but no one appeared. Again she heard a noise. “Who’s there?”

Suddenly she was grabbed from behind. “What are you doing!
” She struggled against her assailant. “Take your hands off me this instant!”

“Not until I get what I have come for!”

Alandra’s head snapped around and she recognized the man holding her. It was the hostler, a man whose constant staring at her might have bothered her when first she arrived had not her thoughts been so undividedly on Christopher.

His eyes swept over her with a hunger that made her cheeks burn, as if he knew what she looked like unclothed. Alandra uttered a gasp as his sour-smelling mouth descended upon hers and his tongue forced its way into her mouth.

Alandra quickly drew away from him. “Leave me alone, you great oaf!”

“Oaf is it? I think you are not as naïve as you would have me think. I saw you kissing that man here, near this very spot tonight. You know what I want to do. I  want to sample that
which lies between your legs.” He laughed, grabbing her.

“Then you
will be taken to toll for such boldness, sir,” she said as she struggled to free herself.

“By who?” The hostler threw
back his head and laughed. “Everyone in the inn is asleep. We are all alone!” He tightened again his hold on her.

Alandra stared up at the man, her heart pounding. She was all too aware of the dark sky. It was
late and as he said, no one was about.

Thrusting back her shoulders, she refused to be intimidated, but s
he knew she had to escape this devil. She had to run as quickly  back to the inn as she could. She darted out of his arms, but the hostler was upon her in an instant.

“Do not think you can escape me now that I have you all to myself. Ah, no, no, no!” His
hands captured her shoulders. With a mumbled oath, he dragged her up against his chest.

Alandra fought back, trying again to break his hold
on her, but her hands were ineffectual against his strength. “Take your hands off me!” she shouted.

The hostler
merely laughed at her. His mouth moved to mere inches from hers as he muttered, “No! And there is little that you can do to fight me off, so why not just enjoy it, eh? I know what you people in the theater are like. I am a most skillful lover as you will soon see.” He pressed his mouth hotly against her throat as if he would devour her.

Furious and
frightened, Alandra screamed in outrage and fought in deadly earnest. She would never give herself to this brutish man. Never. Let me go! A pox on you if you don’t!”

He
muttered words that were unfit for a woman’s ears, words that she knew to be obscenities about the act of lovemaking.

“I tell you again. Leave me
be!” Bringing on knee up, she intended to aim a blow at his manhood, but he moved aside and rendered her assault harmless.

“Do that again and I will make you regret it,” he threatened.

“Please! Please! Alandra pleaded softly.

The hostler’s eye
s glinted with a spark that went beyond mere desire. A look that turned Alandra’s blood to ice water. He was enjoying her fear as if he felt a sense of power at her helplessness. Oh, how could she have ever been so stupid, so careless as to walk about in the night?

The hostler was like a man possessed as his hands tore at her bodice. He was far too aroused to be deterred by her efforts at defense. His hands seemed to be everywhere, bruising and burning. Alandra’s  dress was torn from her shoulder, and she cringed as she felt his fingers fondling her naked breast. Suddenly she was naked from the waist up.

“Ah, you are lovely. Well worth the wait!”

His hand slid up her thighs, pushing the hem of her gown around her waist, and she panicked. He was going to rape her, and there seemed little that she co
uld do to stop him! She felt nausea rise in her throat.
Christopher, please come!
She prayed. But he didn’t, and she realized there was no one to defend her but herself.