Kathryn Kramer (13 page)

He was still a hun
ted man, but somehow looking at Alandra calmed him..  She had believed in him when all others had turned away.  He would remember that.  Though one phase of his life had ended, it seemed suddenly as if a new one was beginning.

Chapter Seventeen

The narrow alleyway was dark, a more fitting place for a thief than a lady, yet Morgana Woodcliff walked briskly without any obvious show of fear.  They had to be there, she thought determinedly, tugging at  the dark hood of her cloak  cautiously to hid the blonde hair that might give her away.  She had to find out what had happened or suffer for her curiosity.  Surely then, it was worth braving the dirt, squalor and danger.

Sidestepping a pile of rotting garbage, she impatiently scanned the doorways of the run-down buildings
, but the only forms she saw were of females.  The two prostitutes stared at her as she walked by, but she haughtily ignored them.  The hags  might have been pretty once, she thought, before their poverty and too much drink had taken its toll, but now they were old far before their time.  The fools had bartered poorly for their favors.  Morgana, to the contrary, knew just how to make full use of her stunning beauty.  Because of that she had come far, and intended to make it even further up the social ladder.  The queen be damned!

At the sound of wooden wheels clattering on the hard-packed ground
, Morgana stealthily ducked into the shadows.  But it was just the ragman approaching, pushing his squeaking cart down the deserted alley.  Morgana drew back as he passed, fearful that the dust he stirred up might soil her, then continued on her way.

D
runken laughter caught her attention.  At the end of the narrow alley two men stood, waiting.  One was tall, the other even taller, but it was their faces that easily identified them.  In all of London there were none quite so ugly, so much so that not even the night could hide their repulsiveness.  Still, they were the ones she sought, and she gave the signal she knew they would recognize.

"Why there ye be, Melady."  In an attempt at  politeness
, one of the men swept off his wide-brimmed hat.  "Complimenting us by your presence."

Morgana wasn't about to waste her time with mock pleasantries.  She came right to the point.  "Did
Stafford catch him?"  These men had a network of fellow scoundrels that reached from Dover to well beyond the border of Scotland.  "Well, did they?"  Her heart fluttered, she held her breath as she waited for the answer.

"Catch 'im?"  Throwing back his head the ruffian chortled.  "Not 'im.  Not Sir Nicholas!"

"Then your...eh....colleagues warned him in time."

"Didn't 'ave time, but it doesn't matter.  Some'ow 'e knew just wot to expect.  I 'eard that 'e slipped through the trap as slick as a weasel!"

She exhaled in relief.  "Good!  Good."  But that didn't end the matter.  "Where is he now?"

The other ruffian shrugged.  "Don't know!"

"What!"  This was not the answer she wanted to hear.  Locating Nicholas was the other important part of her plan. "What do you mean?"

"
'Im and the girl slipped out of the noose then just vanished."  He mimicked the hand motions of a magician, opening his clenched fist and spreading his fingers wide.  "Poof!"

"Girl?  What girl?"  She hadn't counted on this.  "Some village child?"

There was an insinuating chuckle.

"Don't stand there laughing like idiots, tell me!"  There was a command in Morgana's tone that quickly sobered their jovialty.

"Not a child, Melady, a young woman.  A dark-haired wench 'at I 'eard was most comely."  Bawdily he cupped his hands to his chest as if holding up big breasts. 

"A woman!"  She nearly choked on her outrage.  How easily Nicholas had found someone else to take her place.  "That bastard!" 

"Melady, wot a thing ter say!"  The shorter of the rogues made pretense of being shocked, but the venom in her gaze quickly subdued him.  There was something in her eyes that made the hairs at the back of his neck prickle.  He was warned that this was not a woman to trifle with.

Jealousy flowed through Morgana's blood like poison.  How did she know Nicholas hadn't planned this right from the first.  To make a fool of her then go r
unning off with some little brunette strumpet?  Well, he would regret this day, she would make certain of that.  Oh, she would locate him all right.  Someway.  And when she did she would make him pay for such a betrayal.  

Chapter Eighteen

Bedraggled
, begrimed,and mud-spattered, Alandra and Nicholas reached the ridge at Boughton Monchelsa in record time, safe and sound despite their aches and pains.  Riding both night and day, stopping only a few times along the road to rest their tortured bodies, they now viewed the village and inn like a welcome friend.

"How can I ever thank you, Alandra? Because
of your quick wit, girl, I am not imprisoned and I am unfettered."  It was the first time he had put into words his  gratitude. 

His appreciation
should have made her happy, instead Alandra had second thoughts about what she had done.  Now she was involved, his accomplice. There might be those who could give a description of her.  What if it came back to haunt her someday?

"Alandra......."  He sensed her thoughts, knew she
still didn't trust him completely, at least not yet.  Even so, he felt relieved that at least there was a fragile camaraderie between them.  It was a beginning.

There had been few chanc
es for conversation in their frenzy to return to the safe companionship of the actors, yet during their journey  Nicholas had been all too aware of the young woman at his side, fighting the feelings which threatened to consume him. Without even looking he had known  her every gesture, the way her hips moved with the rise and fall of the horse's flanks beneath her, the way her bodice tightened across her firm young breasts as she held the reins of her mount.  The dark tresses of her hair whipped around her shoulders, as they traveled, and he knew the insane desire to ride up beside her and brush the blowing strands from her face.  But that was not the worst of it.  During the moments when they had paused to recover their waning strength, when he should have closed his eyes to an all too brief interlude of sleep, her nearness had just about driven him mad.  Knowing she was lying close by, he had tossed and turned as the painful ache in his loins had gone unfulfilled.  He was finding it harder and harder to keep his vow not to possess her.

Ala
ndra sat straight in the saddle and her dark brown hair glinted red in the fading sunlight. Wind swirled about her slim figure, molding the folds of her gown against the slender length of her thighs, giving Nicholas a tantalizing view of her legs and the gentle curve of her bottom.  Aye, he was going to have a difficult time of it ignoring her soft womanly curves, but he had to try.  He would not reward her bravery and her aid by breaking her heart, though he suspected that she would be his if he so desired.

But I'm a broken man
, he thought, at least for the moment. 
I have nothing to offer a woman but my heart.
  He had to remember that and the fact of this pretty young woman's innocence.  Alandra Thatcher was the kind of woman a man married, and for the moment Nicholas had to put all thoughts of matrimony far from his mind until such time that he had reclaimed his honor.

"
I hope the others are waiting, for what will we do if they have left us far behind?"  It was a question that had bothered her all along the way, for Alandra knew how tight the schedule of a touring player's company could be.  If they had left, it would ruin all her plans and put Nicholas's life once again in danger. 

"They will be waiting.  No one leaves behind a rare treasure, Alandra.  No matter how pressing their obligations might be." 
And you, girl are a treasure
, he thought.

His words turned out to be proph
etic, for the company had indeed lingered at the inn with the hope that Alandra would return.  Gathered together in the courtyard to rehearse their lines, they gave an audible gasp in unison as they saw her ride in with ‘Christopher’ beside her.

"Alandra!  Daughter!  Where on earth have you been.   I've been near out of my mind with worry!  Merry-go-up, wha
t has happened?"  Murray ran forward to help her from her horse and to gather her in a fond embrace as soon as her feet touched the ground.  "I thought....I feared...."

"We feared you had been kidnapped or wors
e!"  John Heminges gave Christopher a haughty frown as if he condemned him as the culprit.

"We've been nigh frantic in our concern!"  William Sly, a stocky, curly haired a
ctor exclaimed, casting Christopher a look of reproof.

"The entire countryside is up at arms looking for you!"  John Lowin, another actor
, called out. "What happened?"

The players circled restlessly about Murray and his daughter, as they sought an explanation. Only
Shakespeare seemed unruffled and  Alandra could have sworn that he somehow suspected what had occurred.

"Give the lass a chance to tell you," he said, motioning the others aside. 
Hurriedly, he tried to bring order to the chattering throng of performers. .  "Gentlemen!  Gentlemen!  Let Alandra tell the tale." 

Bowing to his authority
, they at last grew silent though, every so often they would glance askance at Christopher.

Alandra had
always been completely truthful with her companions, now she knew she had to tell a lie.  She tried to quell the guilt that surged through her as she began.  "I
was
kidnapped!"

"Kidnapped?"  They all gasped in unison.

Crossing her fingers behind her back, Alandra sighed.  If she was going to tell a story, it might as well be a good one she supposed,  fabricating a narration that made Christopher the hero. "But our new friend Christopher Nicholas came to my rescue."

"Kidnapped!"
Beneath his ruddy complexion, Murray  turned as white as a ghost." Alandra, your...your virtue...has...has?"

"Nay!  Christopher saved me just in time."  She smile
d at the momentary look of discomfiture that suddenly crossed Nicholas's face and knew that he was remembering their passionate kiss.  Meeting and holding his gaze, she continued.  "I was in the stable, giving Pedant and Petruchio their nightly feeding, when someone came upon me from behind.  A dark and ugly man with a scar from here to here."  She traced a line with her finger from the left side of her nose to her chin. "Before I knew it, he had pulled me with him upon Will's horse, and though I struggled, I could not break free of him."

"The ungodly cur!"   Heminges swore.

"The bastard!" William Sly exclaimed.

"The brute!  To so mistreat our Alandra,"  the others murmured angrily, casting sympathetic eyes in her direction.

"But how did you get free of him?"  Murray's raspy voice asked the question they all were wondering.

Alandra told a merr
y tale intended to save Christopher’s good name and once and for all extricate him from any guilt associated with the deed.  She had screamed, she said, and their noble companion had heard her cries for help, and without thought to his own safety or well being had taken Pedant and ridden in frantic pursuit.  There was not just one man but two, roguish thieves intent on villainy and mischief.  They had taken her on a hellish ride to Maidstone and beyond, headed for the marshy coast near Rye.  Romney Marsh, Walland Marsh and to the Channel she suspected.  She whispered that they had well intended to sell her into a harem.

"A harem?  A harem?  Dear God!"  Wringing his hands,
Murray was beside himself at the possibility of what might have happened.

Throughout the ensuing minutes
, she held the entire company spellbound as she recounted Christopher's timely entrance.  Swinging his sword with deadly aim, he had fought both men at the same time and sent them both to the ground, sorely wounded. 

"He was as stalwart a hero as I have ever seen."  Closing her eyes
, she could almost imagine that it was exactly as she had described.  "And then he escorted me safely back, through the countryside and here, with nary a thought of the murderers and thieves who wander about."

Opening her eyes
, she met Will's pensive gaze, the brown, almond-shaped eyes searching out her deepest thoughts.  She knew at that moment that he judged her story a colorful fib, but he smiled at her nevertheless.

“
Bravo!  Bravo, Alandra," he whispered in her ear.  "I could not have done better myself."

There was an air of tension
among the gathering  as each actor assessed her story, at last judging it to be the magnificent truth.  Alandra had never lied to them, they had no reason to doubt her, thus every one of them looked upon Christopher with an altogether different look in his eyes.  Admiration had replaced resentment and suspicion as they now welcomed him as a hero and boon comrade.  It was even promised that he would be given his own horse as a reward for his courageous actions.

"I owe you more than I can ever hope to repay!" 
Murray said with a tear in his eye.  "I will ever be your friend."

Pushing and pulling Christopher
along, the actors made their way to the taproom to celebrate the happenings with tankards of ale.  They made great show of accepting him and had Nicholas ever doubted their fellowship he had no reason to doubt it now.  The very walls of the tavern echoed with their laughter and their salutes to the hero in their midst.

"To Christopher!" they hailed, "a noble, valiant man." 

Then as quickly as their voices raised to a fervent pitch, they just as suddenly died down as John Heminges raised his hand to speak.

"I do not give my friendship easily, but you have earned my respect this day
.”

Everyone was in a riotously good mood except for Alandra who looked upon the scene with consternation.  If they only kne
w the truth!  Knew that Christopher was a wanted man.  Knew that by his very presence they were all in danger.  Oh, how she had sold her soul and theirs as well, and all for what?  A handsome nobleman's smile.  His kiss?  His earnest avowal that he was but the victim of circumstances?  What if it was a lie?  What if he
had
cold-bloodedly killed Lord Woodcliff?  What then?  What if circumstances forced his hand again?

As for Christopher appearing
on stage, it was out of the question.  If he were spotted, they would all be in serious trouble, hard put to explain what he was doing in their midst.  Though she knew the final decision lay with Shakespeare, Alandra knew she would do her utmost to keep him out of their performances. And yet, look at him now!  Joining in the laughter, enjoying the camaraderie and attention,  Christopher  was unaware of what awaited him, Alandra thought wistfully. The actors had his full attention.  He was close to letting his male ego be his ruination, as if he actually believed he had the skill to shout out verses!

"I'll have to watch him carefully," she whispered to herself.  One false move, one hint that he was going to do anything at all out of the way
, and she would sound the alarm.  Meanwhile, she had it within her means to blackmail him into behaving himself.