Through The Leaded Glass (24 page)

“
Anachronisms?”

The man hopped up on the pallet, his feet
swinging over the edge. “Er, something I do on occasion that I
really must stop.” He looked at an odd cuff on his wrist, then
jerked his sleeve down over it. “Now, what can I do for you—er, be
doin’ for ye, m’ lord?”

The change in speech added to what Alex
suspected. He pulled Kate’s drawing from his purse. “I’m looking
for this window.”

“
Pretty.” The man took the drawing
and looked at Alex over the rim of his spectacles. “What makes you
think I have it?

“
I was told you did.”

“
Ah.” The man folded the drawing
and tucked it in his pocket. “I had one of the same shape, but it
didn’ have the design.”

Alex let out the breath he’d been holding.
He’d thought for certain he’d find it here.

Now what was he going to do? He’d promised
Kate…

“
I could fashion one for you if
you’d like.”

“
I need it by tomorrow.”

“
Cutting it a bit close aren’t
you?” The man coughed. “My pardon, m’lord. I, uh, should be able to
have it for you. ‘Twill take me through the night, and o’ course I
have to go back and get that other one, but if ye’d like, I’m more
than happy to do it for ye.”

“
And my gold.”

The man nodded. “Aye. And the gold. O’
course.”

Why did Alex get the feeling that the man
wasn’t interested in his gold?

And why did he have faith that the window this
man delivered would do what he and Kate wanted it to?

He looked around the wagon. Odd clothing,
boxes containing who knew what, a strange smelling beverage, those
shoes… And that cuff that looked like a clock on his
wrist.

“
Why didn’t we pass you on the
road?”

“
A man travelin’ alone can be fair
game for ruffians. I travel, well, let’s just say, in
disguise.”

Or perhaps he’d travelled as Kate had. “You’re
certain you don’t have the window here?”

The little man removed his odd shaped cap and
scratched the top of his head. “Nay, m’ lord, but I can get it for
ye. As good as the original, it’ll be.”

Given the contents of this cart, Alex didn’t
doubt it.

He fished a few gold coins out of his purse
and tossed them onto the table. “Very well. I’d like it as soon as
possible.”

The man gathered the coins and the drawing.
“Now, yer certain, m’ lord? Ye’ll no’ be changin’ yer
mind?”

They were not talking about the window. “No, I
won’t change it. Once I give my word, I honor it.”

The little man stroked his chin. “Very well.
Ye’ll have it on the morrow.”

Tomorrow. Kate would have her window tomorrow.
Which meant he had one more day with her. One more
night.

“
Tomorrow, then.” He turned to
leave and bumped his head on a shelf above the door. He reached up
to catch a teetering glass unicorn before it fell.

“
Don’t touch that yet!” The little
man dashed around him and pushed him out of the way, catching the
object before it hit the floorboards. “Phew!” He wiped his brow
with the sleeve of that odd tunic. “Eh, my pardon, m’ lord. I, uh…
didn’ want ye t’hurt yerself. Aye, that’s it. The horn—”he held up
the unicorn—” ‘tis sharp. I wouldna be wantin’ the blood of an earl
t’ be spilled in m’ home, ye see.”

“
Do I?” Alex saw a lot more than
the man knew.

Or did the man know more than him?

Alex left the question unasked, ducked his
head, and descended the steps and closed the door, reading the sign
there.

“
Very well then, Master Griff.
Until the morrow.”

***

“
I don’t like this, Kate. We should
have waited for Alex.” Tristan and his two men paced through
Isobel’s great hall. They’d ridden over as soon as Isobel’s steward
had brought word that the gypsies were preparing to leave her land.
Why they hadn’t let Alex know they were here was one more mystery
in a week filled with them.

“
There’s no time,” said Kate. “I
can’t risk them leaving before Alex returns. I need to speak with
Alic—er, Madame Alicia.” She glared at the guards who were keeping
them corralled in the hall. “What’s keeping Lady
Marston?”

The stoic guards didn’t answer. Not that Kate
had expected them to. Isobel was probably fuming that she’d shown
up instead of Alex.

And, yes, there was some feminine satisfaction
in that. Totally irrational, but Kate was owning it.

The steward returned to the hall. “My lady
will see you now. If you’ll follow me.”

Tris and his men filed in behind her, but
Dalfour nodded at the guards who brandished their swords. “Only the
lady Katherine, please. My lady’s orders.”

Tris grabbed Kate’s arm. “I don’t like
it.”

Kate wasn’t exactly thrilled, but time was
running out. “I’ll be back soon, and we’ll all go find the gypsies
together. We’re in Isobel’s home; nothing’s going to
happen.”

Famous last words.

Dalfour led her through a winding maze of
hallways to a small candlelit room—and locked her in.

Kate pounded on the door. “Dalfour! Isobel!
Let me out of here!” She banged again. “Tris! Tristan! Can you hear
me?”

Of course he couldn’t. The door was probably a
foot thick. And there wasn’t a single window she could escape
from.

She looked around the room. There had to be
something she could use to get out of here. And hopefully before
the candles burned out.

A screen stood in one corner. She checked
behind it. Well, that answered the call of nature question, but the
fact that she might be here long enough for that to be an issue was
a problem. A table on the far side had a decent supply of food, and
a large jug of wine. Had Isobel been preparing for a
siege?

The long divan with a bunch of pillows and
blankets, pointed to something else entirely.

Isobel had lured Alex here to seduce
him.

Great. So were the gypsies even here? Kate
blew out a breath and started searching the room more thoroughly.
Right now, she’d gladly hand Alex over to Isobel on a silver
platter if she could just get out of here.

But after a half hour of searching, she’d
found nothing. Not even a mouse hole. The room must have been the
castle’s vault because it was impenetrable. The door with its three
ten-inch hinges didn’t budge an inch no matter how much she’d
kicked, her throat was raw from yelling, and the pointed end of the
candelabrum she’d smashed was useless for picking the
lock.

She was stuck until Tris and his men could
fight their outnumbered way out of the great hall to rescue her, or
Isobel decided to play nice.

She wasn’t betting on either one.

Chapter Twenty

Alex returned to Shelton with hope that the
situation was about to turn in his favor—

Only to find out that Kate was
gone.

“
Lady Marston sent word that the
gypsies were on her land,” said Stephen, “Lord Hambledon and his
men escorted our lady there, for she could not wait for your
return.”

No Kate wouldn’t have. She also wouldn’t have
known that Gregorio and his band wouldn’t come this close to his
home only to make camp on someone else’s land, not when they were
welcome, nor when he’d sent word specifically for them to come.
Tris, however, should have suspected something.

Though, perhaps he had. Taking the extra men
was a good idea, but Alex didn’t trust Isobel. She was up to
something.

“
Find Lord Caversham and gather the
rest of my men. We leave for Marston immediately.”

***

For the second time that day, Nick tracked
Isobel down. He and Alex had split up upon their arrival at her
home, Alex storming the front entrance, Nick taking the
little-known back way in through the postern gate.

He found her alone in her solar, sewing as if
there wasn’t a cadre of armed men at her front gate.

“
Where is she?”

“
Who?” She tilted her chin. Her
arrogance would be laughable if this were a laughing
matter.

“
Don’t play games with me, Isobel.
I’m not in the mood.” He stormed over and tore the fabric from her
hands. “Kate.”

“
Alexander’s betrothed? Has she
gone missing?” Issy slid to her feet, all grace and elegance, but
the twitch at the corners of her mouth betrayed her. “I haven’t
seen her.”

“
Dalfour has. Send for him.” Nick
was so angry he wanted to strangle her. Or kiss her senseless. How
dare she attempt this. He’d underestimated her.

And she, him.

“
Nicholas, I won’t have you
questioning my steward like some criminal. If I’d seen her, I’d
tell you. I haven’t.” She crossed her arms and tapped one slippered
foot.

“
Dalfour, Issy. Now.”

“
He’s not here.”

“
Convenient.”

Her blue eyes flashed. “Don’t you dare
insinuate anything, Nicholas. He’s not here because I sent him on
an errand.”

“
For what? A length of
rope?”

She pursed her lips. “No. I entered
negotiations for Elinor, my eldest’s, marriage two weeks ago—when
it was known Alexander and I would marry. I wish to see these plans
through. Not that it concerns you.”

He tugged her so her ear was beside his lips.
“As your future husband, it does concern me. As do your actions
this day. Get him, Issy. Or Kate. Both would be best. I order you.
Now.”

The sound of her palm hitting his cheek echoed
in the empty room. “You go too far!”

Nick stepped back, clenching his fists at his
sides. “No, Issy, you do. And I don’t mean
that
.” He
indicated his cheek. “I told you Alex wouldn’t marry you. This
pitiful attempt to remove Kate from the competition is just
that—pitiful. And it has incurred his anger enough that if you were
the last woman in the land, he wouldn’t marry you.”

“
He has to, Nicholas. Elinor must
make this match.” Issy’s composure finally broke. “And I can’t go
to Wexham.”

He had no defense against a hopeless Isobel.
He lifted her fingers, intertwining them with his own. “I will
offer for you, Isobel. You won’t go to Wexham. Why won’t you
believe me?”

“
The king won’t agree to it,
Nicholas. We’ve discussed this time and again. He needs land, men.
Money. None of which you have enough of. I don’t want to see you
shamed.” She let her fingers return the caress.

“
I have a plan, Issy.”

“
Nicholas, unless you have gold
falling from the sky into your coffers, no plan will alter your
status in the king’s eyes.”

“
Do you think I would promise you
something if I didn’t believe it possible?”

There was a spark of hope in her eyes, one he
wanted to keep there for the rest of their lives.
That
was
the Isobel he knew, not the conniving, grasping, opportunist she’d
become.

She’d first looked at him with desperation a
few weeks after her husband had died. He’d noticed her before, and
she him, but he didn’t dally with other men’s wives, even if she’d
been willing.

He’d ridden his horse across her land one day
afterwards—quite rude not asking the owner’s permission, but then,
he hadn’t cared. Back then, his life had been about taking risks,
cards, jousts, games of chance, and the like. He’d seen her slink
from the postern gate, a pail in her hand, looking more like a
serving girl than the lady of the manor. But her curves had given
her away. He had studied those curves many times over the
years.

When she’d darted from oak to oak, peering
around the trunks, he’d decided to follow her.

At the river in a small glen, she’d sat on a
rock by the water’s edge, pushed the hood from her head, allowing
that long carpet of sable hair to fall around her shoulders. She’d
kicked off her slippers and dabbled her toes in the water, looking
like a young maiden with no cares in the world.

Yet he’d known better. As the worry slipped
from her face, he’d slipped from behind a briar bush. She hadn’t
noticed him until he’d stood in front of her, blocking the
sunlight.

He’d never forget the sapphire blue of her
eyes when they’d startled open.

And there the love affair had started. If only
he’d known the heartache that would come after, he wouldn’t have
followed her.

Nick exhaled. Like hell he wouldn’t have. It
may be hell loving her, but it’d be even worse not to.

“
Issy.” He ran his fingers up her
arm. The velvet fabric hid her skin from his touch, but he knew the
silkiness of her flesh, the fine bones there, the gently rounded
muscles that quivered when he drew his nails over them.

She raised her head, her eyes brimming with
tears. “Oh, Nicholas, I just can’t go to Wexham.” Her voice broke
and he pulled her into his arms.