Where Love Has Gone (27 page)

“No one will be in the solar at this hour.
Let’s talk in there.” Cadwallon led the way.

They stood with their backs to the shuttered
windows, so they could see anyone coming into the solar. Desmond
kept his voice so low that Cadwallon was forced to bend his head to
hear.

“The message Elaine found concerns a plot
against King Henry. Louis of France and the count of Flanders are
gathering an army on the Flemish border. They plan to invade Upper
Normandy early in May.”

“Well, well. So Elaine was right about the
motive for Lady Benedicta’s suicide. Any self-respecting spy would
prefer to die, rather than give up such an important piece of
information. What else did you learn? From your face, I can see you
haven’t told me all of it.”

“All of what?” Elaine asked, coming into the
solar so silently that Desmond looked down to see if she was
barefoot.

“I thought you were sleeping,” he said.

“I was, but I wakened and I wanted to check
on Ewan.” Her cheeks turned pink when her gaze met Desmond’s.

“Ewan is fast asleep,” Cadwallon said.

“Good. I’m glad to hear it. Now, tell me why
you two are huddling together like a pair of thieves.”

“You mean, like a pair of spies,” Cadwallon
corrected her in a dry tone.

“I see no reason not to tell you,” Desmond
said, keeping his voice lowered to a near whisper. “After all, you
found the message.”

“You’ve decoded it?” Despite her obvious
delight at the news, she kept her voice soft, too.

“The French are planning to invade Normandy,”
Cadwallon revealed.

“We must warn King Henry.” Elaine stepped
closer, until the three of them were standing in a tight, little
circle.

“That’s not all,” Desmond said.

“What else?” Elaine’s lips barely moved.

“You were right about the date in the
message,” Desmond said. “It is the first of May.”

“For the invasion?” Elaine whispered. “So
soon? We haven’t much time.”

“Not the date for the invasion,” Desmond
said. “It’s the date for the murders. King Louis’s agents plan to
kill King Henry on the first day of May, and his sons, William and
Robert, as well, so no heirs to Normandy or to the English throne
will be left. Then, with the court at Caen in confusion, Louis’s
army will march through Upper Normandy and into Lower Normandy.
They don’t expect much opposition.

“Lastly, they plan to seize Jersey and
Guernsey and the other islands in this group. I am only guessing
now, but I believe Lady Benedicta, who was their contact on this
island, was providing information on the defenses here. She may
even have been planning to give Lord Bertrand some of the same
syrup she used to kill Aglise.”

“Dear God!” Elaine’s hand was at her mouth as
if to silence her own, soft cry. “Aglise knew this, and never said
a word to me? Desmond, please tell me she wasn’t involved in this
treacherous scheme!”

“Did she have the skill to decipher a code?”
Desmond asked.

“I don’t think so. She had difficulty
reading.” Elaine thought again, then shook her head. “No, I’m sure
she didn’t decode the message.”

“From what we’ve learned of her, I don’t
think so, either,” Cadwallon said. “Aglise probably knew only that
Lady Benedicta was sending correspondence by pigeon and Lord
Bertrand knew nothing about it. When she found one of the messages,
I think she decided to use it against Lady Benedicta without
understanding how dangerous the information it contained was. I’d
wager she suspected Lady Benedicta of carrying on a correspondence
with a secret lover. Most likely, she believed the news would be
enough to make Lord Bertrand put his wife away and marry her,
instead. That’s all Aglise really wanted, you know. She wanted to
marry her lover. Your sister wasn’t a spy, Elaine.”

“Thank you, Cadwallon.” Elaine blinked away
tears. “I cannot imagine her being involved in spying. For one
thing, she chattered too much.”

Desmond forbore to remind her that Aglise had
kept the secret of her love affair and of her discovery of the
parchment. They would probably never learn all the details of
Aglise’s actions just before she was killed, or how much she had
known, but Desmond didn’t want to hurt Elaine. It wasn’t going to
be difficult to divert her attention.

“We must warn King Henry,” he said. “We have
six days to reach Caen, but I doubt if Captain Piers will bring the
Daisy
into port in this weather.”

“Perhaps we can hire a fishing boat to take
us off the island,” Elaine suggested. “Jean may know of a willing
fisherman.”

“To take us where?” Cadwallon asked. “Where
can we go in such weather?”

“To a port just across the water, along the
western coast of Normandy,” Elaine answered after a moment’s
thought. “Surely, once we reach land, we can find horses and ride
to Caen.”

“We?” Desmond couldn’t keep a note of
amusement out of his voice. Elaine’s eyes were bright and her face
fairly glowed with interest as she devised a plan that, he was
forced to admit, made good sense. With a few modifications from
him, of course.

“I’ll not be left behind,” Elaine declared.
“Nor will I slow you down along the way. You’ve seen me ride, so
you know I’m a good horsewoman.”

“You may not slow us,” Desmond said. “Lord
Bertrand and Jean certainly will.”

“We’ll leave both of them behind to watch
over Ewan,” Cadwallon decided. “When Captain Piers arrives, he can
take all of them aboard the
Daisy
.”

“Yes, what about Ewan?” Desmond looked to
Elaine with raised eyebrows. “Is he well enough for you to desert
him?”

“There are other women in Warden’s Manor who
are capable of looking after him. With Flamig to oversee his care –
you do trust Flamig, don’t you?”

“I trust him,” Desmond said, “but he has
other duties than tending a wounded boy.”

“I am going with you,” Elaine insisted. “Do
not try to prevent me!”

“Once we reach the mainland, how far is it to
Caen?” Cadwallon asked just when the discussion was about to turn
into a quarrel. “Elaine, has Lord Bertrand ever traveled that
route? Do you know how many days from the coast to Caen?”

“I haven’t left Jersey since I came here,”
Elaine admitted. “We could ask Lord Bertrand.”

“We could not,” Desmond stated firmly. “We
dare not tell Lord Bertrand anything we’ve learned from that coded
message. Despite his wife’s claim that he is innocent, we don’t
know how honest he has been with us, or how much he really knows
about Lady Benedicta’s schemes. We can’t tell Flamig, either, lest
he mention it to someone who shouldn’t know that we know.”

“Well, now, you have presented us with a nice
problem,” Cadwallon said.

After some further discussion, Desmond
decided to take Jean and ride into Gorey village to try to find a
fisherman who was willing to carry two male passengers from Jersey
to the mainland.

“Two men and a woman,” Elaine insisted.

“I will need you to stay behind, to watch
over Ewan and Jean, and make sure they are safe,” Desmond said.
“Not to mention watching what Lord Bertrand does once we are
gone.”

“Flamig can watch him,” she protested.

“As soon as the weather clears, the
Daisy
will arrive,” Desmond argued. “Then, assuming Ewan is
well enough to be carried aboard, you and he, Jean, and Lord
Bertrand, can all sail to Caen to meet us there. It will be an
easier trip for you than riding all the way.”

“I do not enjoy sea travel,” Elaine said.

“That’s too bad, my lady.” Desmond longed to
kiss her slightly pouty mouth. The thought of long days of riding
side by side with her was seductive, but they’d be traveling so
rapidly that he doubted she could withstand the pace they needed to
set if they were to reach Caen in time.

His visit to Gorey village was a failure. No
fisherman was willing to risk the boat that provided his family’s
livelihood on a hasty voyage through dense fog. Not for the sake of
two strangers. No matter how much money Desmond offered.

“By God,” Desmond said to Cadwallon that
evening, “if the weather doesn’t clear by tomorrow morning, I’m
going to commandeer a boat and sail it to Normandy myself!”

“Do you know how to sail?” Cadwallon asked.
“Have you ever tried?”

“No, but I can learn.”

“Aye.” Cadwallon’s familiar, lazy grin
flashed. “You can learn, in the fog, when you’ve never tried to
sail before. You’ll be a great help to King Henry. Look, Desmond, I
know you are aching to be on your way. So am I. But the simple fact
is, we cannot leave Jersey until the weather clears.”

Desmond knew there was no argument strong
enough to counter Cadwallon’s practical good sense.

He fared no better against Elaine’s continued
insistence that she leave Jersey with him. When she stopped him in
the deserted solar late that evening and began her argument anew,
Desmond gave in to the temptation to use the easiest method of
silencing her. He kissed her.

He should have known better. Elaine welcomed
his embrace, winding her arms around his neck to bring herself
closer, opening her sweet mouth in an eager, innocent invitation.
Her breasts were soft against his chest, and when he instinctively
reacted by pushing his hardness against her, her low, sensual moan
fired his blood.

One kiss turned into many. His hand slid
along her ribs o cover her breasts, to mold and press them, while
his need grew ever more intense. He knew in another few moments he
wouldn’t be able to stop. He’d drag her off to the nearest empty
room and make her his. If he didn’t stop right now… Summoning all
of his will, Desmond placed his hands on her shoulders and pushed
her away.

“I cannot do this,” he said, his voice husky
with desire. “I am a spy, a younger son with no prospects and no
title. I dare not allow myself to feel any tender emotion. You must
understand.”

“I do. But I wish you would understand my
feelings.”

The hurt in her eyes nearly destroyed his
intention to do what was right for her. Elaine was a bewitching
combination of vulnerability and courage. He was certain she cared
for him. He ached to possess her, while at the same time, he longed
to protect her, even from himself. For in his heart, Desmond knew
he would never be able to give up his secret work for King Henry.
However dishonorable spying was considered to be by honest men, it
was in his blood and he suffered a strong fear that he couldn’t
live without it. “I felt a strange affinity for Lady Benedicta,” he
said, hoping the admission would shock her enough to make her keep
her distance. “I crave excitement and the stimulation of danger.
The thought of facing death and defeating it one more time thrills
me. How can a gently bred woman find those qualities
attractive?”

“I see in you a man who cares about others,”
she said. “You plan to remove Jean from the kitchen here and find
him a place with your kind sister-in-law, so she can train him as
her page. You blame Lord Bertrand for his treatment of Aglise
almost as much as I do. I think you are worried about Ewan, too.
You always treat the squires kindly. And you perceived Flamig’s
honest heart beneath his rough exterior.”

“You don’t know me well,” he protested,
wanting to stop the flow of undeserved praise. “If my father were
still alive, he’d tell you what a worthless creature I am.”

“Perhaps he was the one who didn’t know you
well. Perhaps I know you better. Unlike your father, you would be a
deeply loving and protective parent, and you wouldn’t care whether
your children were boys or girls. You’d love them just the
same.”

“Don’t – don’t say that. I’m not Cadwallon; I
wouldn’t know how to be a father.”

“You could learn.” She moved close again and
kissed him on the lips, quickly and gently, before she left him.
“Good night, Desmond.” Her whisper lingered on the air after she
was gone.

And Desmond, committed spy, seeker of
dangerous thrills though he was, perceived the danger in an honest
woman’s heart and dared not follow her.

“Five days left,” Desmond said, looking out
his bedchamber window. “Cadwallon, does the fog seem thinner to
you?”

“Perhaps. A little. Or, perhaps, we just
think the fog is lighter because we want the skies to clear. At
least the rain has stopped. I’m going to check on Ewan before I
break my fast.”

“Fine. I’ll see you in the great hall.”

Desmond washed his face and hands and dressed
quickly, then stuffed the last of his belongings into his
saddlebags. He noticed Cadwallon had also packed. If he was able to
leave Jersey that day, Cadwallon would be at his side. Desmond was
surprised by how pleased he was at the realization.

A moment later he was cursing himself for
depending on someone else. From his own experience he knew better
than to trust another spy, yet Cadwallon’s stalwart honesty made it
difficult to think of him as anything but a friend. Desmond shook
his head in bemusement. Between Elaine’s subtle allure and
Cadwallon’s solid backing, he was beginning to loose the
distrustful edge a good spy required. If he continued trusting and
relying on people, and caring about a woman, he would very soon be
dead.

When he reached the great hall Elaine was
already there, sitting at the high table with bread and cheese
before her. She blushed when she saw him. If Desmond weren’t older
and much more experienced he’d be blushing, too, to recall the way
he’d undressed her when last they were together. He knew he ought
to keep his distance from her, yet her shy, tentative smile drew
him to her side.

With a frustrated sigh he discarded the
calculated rudeness of choosing to sit elsewhere, which was what a
cautious spy would do. Instead, he sat on a bench at the high
table, though for both their sakes the bench he chose was some
distance away from her.