Kissing Shakespeare (27 page)

He looked at me, a naughty gleam in his eye. “Truly? May I have the first dance, then?”

“You may.” I finished the ale, and a servant immediately refilled my mug.
If I drink too much, I’ll make a fool of myself on the dance floor—and elsewhere
. I decided to reconsider my strategy.

Jennet was leaning toward Stephen, her gorgeous hair cascading over one side of her face in a perfect fall. They were laughing about something. Well. Who knew she could be funny? Stephen didn’t even glance my way.

I couldn’t think of anything to say to Master William Shakespeare, funny or otherwise.
Seen any movies lately? Are you into graphic novels? What’s on your iPod? You should start a blog! That would really get your name out there. Do you tweet?

I broke off a piece of manchet and chewed on it. One of the visitors, Timothy Hale, had struck up a conversation with Thomas Cook. The younger one, Master Lowry, singled out Will. “Master … Shakespeare, was it?” When Will nodded, he went on. “What is your business here?”

“I am the schoolmaster.”

“You seem quite young for such an occupation.”

“Perhaps.” Will shrugged him off and turned to me. “I should like to read more of my writing to you, Mistress Olivia.”

“I’d like that too, Will.”

I glanced at Lowry, who was sitting across the table diagonally from me. He turned his head to speak to someone on his other side, and for the first time, I saw him in profile. Something about him … I knew him from somewhere; I’d seen him before, I was sure.

Abruptly, Lowry turned back to continue his conversation with Shakespeare. “Pray, lad, how did you come by this job?”

It was then that I noticed Alexander watching us. He held a wine glass in his hands, rolling it back and forth between his palms. He seemed wary of something.

Will must have noticed too, because he flashed a glance toward Alexander before addressing Robert Lowry. “My own schoolmaster recommended me for the post.”

“Tell me, sir, are you licensed?”

Will flushed. This was becoming awkward and uncomfortable, almost like an interrogation. Stephen and Jennet had stopped talking and were listening to the conversation.

“Pardon me, Master Lowry,” I broke in. “What brings you to Lancashire?” I gulped noisily at my ale, hoping he would think I was an impertinent, and maybe intoxicated, young lady.

He shoveled a bite of beef into his mouth and chewed before answering. “We are on Privy Council business,” he said curtly.

“In truth, you must be very important visitors then. Tell me, why did you choose to stay at Hoghton Tower? Are there not grander places for privy councilors?” I asked, deliberately misunderstanding. These two rough-looking men might work for the Privy Council, but I doubted they were members.

“Come, Olivia,” Alexander said. “Allow our guest to eat in peace. He has had a long journey here. Let us not trouble him with our questions.”

All of a sudden I knew where I’d seen him before. A rain-soaked day in the woods. A man in a clearing, dressed almost the same as he was now, with a distinctive profile. Robert Lowry was the same man Jennet had been talking to in the woods the other day. An icy trickle of fear crawled down my back.

“So shall he not trouble us with his,” I said, looking at Lowry straight on.

Stephen cleared his throat. I shifted my eyes his way and tried to figure out if he was warning me or laughing at me. Before I could decide, he said, “Pay no heed to my sister, sir. I know my uncle and aunt are always pleased to welcome guests.”

If Lowry were a spy or a government informer, goading him wouldn’t help us. “Pardon me, sir, for my rudeness,” I said, my face flushing.

He tilted his head very slightly to acknowledge my apology, and things returned to normal. Will and I looked at each other, and in his expression I saw a mixture of amusement and respect. I held his eyes for as long as I could, trying to bewitch him. It was hard to do that, to hold someone’s gaze that way. I looked back at my plate and stabbed a piece of fowl, smiling to myself. I felt bold and seductive.

Will and Fulke went off to organize the music. I looked around the room at the clusters of people who had split off after the meal. Lowry and Hale were conversing with Alexander and Elizabeth, too far away for me to see their expressions. Thomas and Stephen were huddled together talking. Jennet was nowhere to be seen. Desperate to tell Stephen about her and Robert Lowry, I was tempted to interrupt his conversation with Thomas. But then I’d run the risk of losing any chance of up-close-and-personal time with Will.

I tried to make sense of Jennet’s relationship with Lowry. She’d met secretly with someone who, in all probability, was a Privy Council spy. How long had she been sneaking off to meet with him? What did it mean? My best guess was that she was reporting to him, and had been all along. Now I understood how the sheriff had known, before the raid, that a Jesuit was hiding here. How she’d figured it out was unclear, but I’d found out plenty from listening and watching, and she could have done the same.

Whatever was going on, I had to tell Stephen right away so we could decide what to do. The music was starting up, chords from the lute and recorder floating among the guests. As I looked around, I recognized some of the neighbors drifting in for the dancing. In a moment Fulke’s voice called out, “Ladies and gentlemen, choose partners for a galliard!”

“Mistress?” Will said, suddenly appearing at my side.

We lined up with the other dancers. After the honor, we began a series of little steps and hops, circling around each other and grasping hands now and then. It was an energetic dance, and I had to focus my attention on performing the steps correctly, so there was really no chance for talking. I smiled up at Will whenever the movements allowed. I was beginning to like Elizabethan music, which no longer sounded so odd to my modern ears. It was playful, lively, and eminently suited to dancing.

I looked at Will and said, “ ‘If music be the food of love, play on.’ ”

His eyes lit up. “You say the cleverest things, Olivia. I may borrow that line someday.”

“I hope you will.” Duke Orsino’s words from
Twelfth Night
had always stuck with me because Mr. Finley said they were a perfect example of iambic pentameter. When Shakespeare wrote that line, would he believe he’d stolen it from me?

“I thank you for coming to my rescue with our arrogant visitors,” Will said while we both caught our breath.

“Who are they, do you know?”

“Privy Council business,” Will said, his lip curling. “Privy Council spies, I fear.”

With Will’s confirmation of my own suspicion, my stomach tightened. And I had acted like a spoiled brat. A lot like Katherine, I thought, wincing. That was probably what Stephen was thinking.

“Would they have come here for a particular reason?”

“In truth, I do not know. I believe they travel about, stopping at different manors and seeking information about religious and political matters. They could have been sent to finish what the sheriff started.”

“To find Thomas and arrest him?”

Will nodded slowly, looking around us. “Soft,” he cautioned.

“Yet Thomas ate with us as usual. He’s not hiding.”

He shrugged. “ ’Tis a strange situation. Mayhap ’twas thought he was best concealed in the open.”

“I don’t—do not see them,” I said. “Do you think they’ve left?”

“Nay. I would not be surprised if even now they were questioning Master Hoghton. Tomorrow they will travel on and bother some other blameless citizens.” The music started up again and Will offered his arm. “Come, let’s forget about them.”

And if this night was to go according to plan, I must force myself to forget, at least for now. The dance was a pavane, the music slower paced and better suited to flirting. There were lots of opportunities for circling around and staring longingly into your partner’s eyes. When we took each other’s hands and stepped close together, our bodies actually touched. I knew Stephen was watching from the edge of the dance floor; I could feel his eyes on me. No way would I give him the satisfaction of returning his gaze.

When the dance ended, Will leaned in close. “Let’s walk outside. A breath of air would feel good.” We clasped hands and threaded our way through the room. Feeling abandoned and a little desperate, I looked back to find Stephen, but he’d dissolved into the crowd.
Get with the program, Olivia. This is what you’re here for. Just do it
.

We reached the inner courtyard, and I realized we were not alone. Other couples were already there, embracing, kissing, murmuring. There could be no doubt as to why Will had brought me here. He led me to an unclaimed stone bench and pulled me down beside him. Without any preliminaries, he put his arms around me and drew me close. His eyes met mine for a moment, as if asking permission. I didn’t flinch. Slowly, he lowered his head and kissed me.

I threw my arms around his neck and returned the kiss. He smelled a little of sweat, but he’d sweetened his breath with mint. After a minute, he ran his hand over my cheek, down my neck, and over my bodice. Every so often he paused, as if waiting for me to stop him.

Oh, my God. I’m making out with William Shakespeare!
I nearly laughed out loud. But instead I turned my attention to where Will’s hand was at this moment. Running down my leg to my ankle, making its way underneath the soft folds of my gown. “Olivia,” he said in a choked voice, “we must go somewhere else.”

“Let’s go through the main entrance. Most people are still in the banqueting hall.”

He grabbed my hand and we raced off. I bunched up my gown with the other hand and tried to keep up with him. We flew up the steps, pausing briefly to make sure Stephen wasn’t in his room. When we reached Jennet’s chamber, the passageway door was closed. Not a good sign, since she’d vanished after dinner. Will and I looked at each other, and he motioned for me to wait in my own room while he investigated. After a moment, he reappeared and signaled to me. I hurried over and we passed through Jennet’s room and into Will’s together.

Immediately, he closed the passageway doors and locked them. Then he came over to me and kissed me gently. He nuzzled my neck for a minute. “I’ll light some candles. Stay right there.”

When that was done, he approached me again. “You look so lovely in the candlelight, Olivia.”

Embarrassed, I ducked my head. “Thank you.” Why was he making this so hard? Part of me wished he’d act like a jerk, so I wouldn’t feel anything at all for him. Instead, he was being romantic and sweet.

“Come.” He led me to the bed and we sat. And then he scooped up a handful of my hair and wound it around his fingers. “Your hair … ’tis like the finest spun silk. It shines like mahogany.”

“Um …”

“Your skin. All satin and velvet. So fair and”—he leaned over and kissed a dozen different places on my face—“it tastes like the sweetest nectar.”

I closed my eyes.
Maybe I did love Will a little
. When I opened them, I found him gazing adoringly at me. I leaned toward him and he took the hint, swooping in for a kiss. His arms went around me, drawing me close.

“I love the slope of your neck, the swell of your breasts.” Hmm. That had a vaguely familiar ring.

He lowered his head and dropped kisses on my … swell. I could easily get used to a man worshipping me. And then the oddest sensation swept over me. Was Will truly so enraptured by my beauty, my soft skin, and my shiny hair? Or did he just want to have sex with me? I guess it didn’t really matter which of us seduced the other.

I realized he was whispering to me. “Your gown.”

“M-my gown? Oh, the fastenings are in back,” I said, my voice quavering.

Will unfastened it about twice as fast as Bess was able to. In no time at all I was standing there wearing nothing but my thin smock, and I began to shiver. My stomach was roiling, queasy. After tugging off his doublet and the shirt underneath, Will grasped me around the waist from behind. Slowly, his hands slid upward.

My mind flashed to Stephen, and how he’d watched me while I danced with Will. And earlier, kissing him, holding him. Was this what he wanted for me? What I wanted for myself? I twisted around and kissed Will passionately, buying time. In a minute, it would be too late to change course. I withdrew slightly from the embrace.

I thought I was going to be sick.