Love's Labyrinth (25 page)

Olivia smiled and looked down at her hands. “I’ll miss you, too.”

He drew closer and lifted her chin once more. She raised her face and closed her eyes as she realized his intention. Her mouth opened eagerly as his lips came down on hers. For a long moment, they clung to each other, the kiss sweet and deep and tender. When they finally drew away, they smiled at each other, and Olivia was amazed to see that his eyes were wet. She glanced out the window, suddenly disconcerted by his obvious emotion, and noticed with surprise a familiar figure in the street below. “Nicholas, isn’t that John Makepeace crossing the square?”

Nicholas followed where she pointed. The tall black hat was as unmistakable as the spare gaunt form. “Aye. So it would seem.”

‘This is the second time we’ve seen him here.”

Nicholas shrugged. “He has business interests in Calais. ‘Tis not so odd as when we saw him in the church.”

“But what’s he doing here? So close to this inn? Don’t you think that’s strange?”

“It looks as if he’s heading for the docks, sweet. I think it’s not as strange as that. Come, you’re only overwrought. I promise we’ll soon be safe in England. I’ll be back from London by the day after tomorrow. And then—” He broke off, bent his head, and kissed her gently on the lips. The kiss deepened, and she held him fast, savoring the hard strength in his arms as he held her closer.

And then, she thought, the only thing we’ll have left to do is say good-bye.

THE WHITE CLIFFS of Dover loomed on the horizon, far sooner than Olivia had thought possible. Or was it only because she didn’t want this trip to end, she realized with a start. She looked up at Nicholas, who clung to the rail, his face impassive as he watched the land rise higher and higher out of the sea. The choppy waters of the Channel flung spray in their faces, and the gulls swooped and cried between the masts. She drew a deep breath and let it out in a soft sigh. He said nothing, but his hand closed over hers and covered it on the damp wooden rail. She glanced up at him. His expression had not changed. She was coming to understand that the stern countenance he often wore was nothing but a mask for his true feelings, which were much more complex than the ones possessed by the arrogant, ambitious nobleman she’d first thought him to be. She twined her fingers in his, and was rewarded with an answering pressure.

“Home again,” she said.

He nodded, still silent. “What do you think of all this?”

The question took her by surprise. “I think it’s quite beautiful,” she replied, uncertain of his meaning.

“Not this.” He waved an impatient hand. “I meant, what do you think of
now?
Of the way we live? Of the way things are done?”

She hesitated, searching for the right words, totally taken aback by his query. What could he be thinking? “I think…I think that life seems in some ways much more difficult, but in other ways, it’s much—” She paused.“Richer. Earthier. More real.”

He gave a short laugh. “Perhaps.”

“I mean, death is so much more imminent here—at least it seems that way to me. Life seems so much more precarious. But maybe that’s not true. Or maybe it’s just the way I see it, given what I’m accustomed to.”

“And what are you accustomed to?”

He turned to face her. He reached out and twined a stray curl around one finger, smoothing the silky strands beneath his fingers. Desire sparked through her, and she drew a soft breath. He smiled. “Well,” she answered, “you know some of the things I’ve told you about. Vaccinations, indoor plumbing, airplanes.”

He traced one finger down the line of her cheek to her jaw. “And this?”

She laughed softly, a little nervously. Everything about him unsettled her, made her want him, need him in a way she’d never imagined, let alone experienced with anyone else. Her emotions were like the ocean, roiling like the waves as the smooth keel of the ship cut through choppy water. “No, there’s nothing like this,” she managed to stammer as he bent down and gently kissed her mouth.

She drew a deep breath, and closed her eyes, as delight rippled through her all the way to her toes. He drew away almost at once, and she opened her eyes, disappointed. He was smiling at her, and his eyes were dancing. “Such a wanton, wanting wench you are. What will the sailors think?” He raised one eyebrow and jerked his head over his shoulder.

“Why, they’ll think I’m in love with my husband.” She cocked her head and matched his teasing tone, expecting to see his smile broaden into one of his rare real grins.

But his response puzzled her even more. He turned back to face the sea and gripped the wooden rail with both hands. “Aye,” he muttered, so low she had to strain to hear him over the creak of the ship and the slap of the water against the sides. “Indeed, my lady. No doubt.”

He was silent the rest of the trip. Olivia stood quietly, avoiding his gaze, trying to wrestle her emotions into some semblance of control. What would Allie say, she wondered. Oh, she could imagine her friend’s reaction well enough. You’re crazy, Livvie—that’s what Allie would say. You need to get back to the future and go on with your life. Your real life, not some silly fantasy.

But this is real life, too, the other part of her insisted.

Just as real, actually more real. Except for Allie, what was there to go back to? The thought shocked her. She bit her lip. What was she telling herself? That she didn’t want to go back? That she wanted to stay? She was crazy. She snuck a peek at Nicholas. She could practically hear Alison speak.

Yes, he’s charming and incredibly good looking and a wonderful lover and you find him absolutely fascinating. But do you really want to die of something a good dose of an antibiotic could cure? How about losing all your teeth? How about never reading a newspaper or a book or a magazine again? How about giving up chocolate?

Olivia sighed, and this time, Nicholas was too lost in his own thoughts to notice. Which was just as well. Talking to him only confused her more and more.

All too soon, it seemed, they reached Dover, and had docked among the rows of ships at the busy seaport. Jack picked up their luggage and Nicholas carefully handed her down the gangplank to the dock, which swayed up and down with the water. She clung to his arm as they finally stepped onto land.

“Which way, my lord?” asked Jack.

Nicholas squinted up at the sun. “Back to the inn, I think, Jack. ‘Tis far too late to travel today. We’ll have a good supper and a sleep and then be off at first light. The horses should be well rested. They’ll be fresh for the journey tomorrow, and so will we if we rest one more night,” Olivia looked up at him, and their eyes met. The intensity with which he looked at her took her breath away.
How often do I really eat chocolate?
She gathered her skirts, as he offered his arm. They were just about to set off down the busy street, with Jack in the lead, when a small company of soldiers stepped in front of them. Olivia blinked.

“Lord Nicholas Talcott?” the tall, heavily bearded sergeant barked.

“Yes?” Nicholas frowned, eyeing the man up and down.

“We have a warrant for your arrest”

“What?” Nicholas drew himself up and Olivia clutched at his arm. “I’m just returning—I’ve not been here on English soil for five minutes. On what charge?”

“Treason against the Crown, my lord.”

Olivia gasped, and she felt Nicholas stagger slightly. “What?” she whispered, shocked.

“Such a charge is ridiculous—” Nicholas spluttered. “I am Her Majesty’s most loyal subject—I’ve done nothing—”

“You’ll have a chance to answer the charge to Lord Walsingham.” The sergeant made a gesture and they were surrounded. Olivia shrank against Nicholas, as a burly soldier leered down at her.

“Walsingham!” cried Nicholas. “It was his business I was about!”

The sergeant’s disgust was plain on his face. The other soldiers crowded closer, until Olivia could feel their hot breath on her neck. “Apparently he forgot that, my lord. Come now.”

“Sergeant, there’s been a terrible mistake—I don’t understand—”

“It’s not for me to understand either, my lord. My orders are to bring you to London. Will you come peacefully?”

“And—and my lady—” Nicholas stopped short and gazed down at Olivia.

“What about the lady?” asked one of the men, leaning on his pike. “Turn her loose? The warrant says nothing about her.”

“Bring her. She’s part of this. She’s with him, right?”

The men surrounded them. Olivia looked through the crowd that had begun to gather and saw Jack standing uncertainly on the periphery. Nicholas caught his eye and gestured with his head. The boy tugged his forelock and took off.
Please,
she prayed,
let him get to Talcott Forest safely. And let Geoffrey come and straighten out this mess as quickly as possible.

“Nicholas.” She spoke as softly as she could. “Where are they taking us?”

“London, missy.” The bearded sergeant spoke over his shoulder. His manner was rough, but his voice was not unkind. “To the Tower. The Tower of London.”

The road to London was long and rough, and the closer they got to the ancient capital, the more crowded it became. But Olivia, sitting crowded in a wagon with Nicholas bound by her side, was only half aware of all that passed by. They stopped for the night at a tavern that was nowhere near as well appointed as the ones Nicholas had taken her to, and instead of going to a room, they were chained to a pole in the stable.

“My God,” she murmured, when they’d been left alone in the dark, “they act as if we’re guilty.”

“They think we are,” Nicholas answered grimly. It was impossible to see his face in the gloom, but she pressed against the reassuring warmth of his body. His arm closed around her awkwardly. “Forgive me.”

Olivia closed her eyes, burying her face in his chest. She took a deep breath. The odors of the stable, dung and horse, and their own sweat, filled her nostrils. The sweat was acrid and sharp. Fear, she thought. That’s what fear smells like.

“Olivia, I’ll do all I can, I swear it, to protect you. Even if it means going to the block myself—I’ll not tell them anything to implicate you.”

In the darkness, she raised her head and stared at the pale smudge that was all she could see of his face. “Nicholas, can’t we just tell them the truth?’.

He made a little choking noise in his throat.

“Not about me, not that—but, about what happened in Calais? That’s what they will question you about—not me.”

“Obviously.” His dry tone struck her as funny and she giggled. Even to her ears, she sounded hysterical. He leaned forward and awkwardly held her close. “Hush. If we make too much noise, they’re likely to separate us and I want to keep you close for as long as I can.” He paused. “Are you all right?”

She took a deep breath and forced herself to relax. “Yes.”

“Now. Hopefully, Jack has gotten to Geoffrey by now. He wouldn’t have stopped, and he may even be home. As soon as Geoffrey hears of this, he’ll come right to London. I’m not without friends, you know. And I count Robert Dudley, the Earl of Leicester, as one of them. When Geoffrey tells him my story, we’ll see how long it takes for the Queen to order us set free.”

Olivia closed her eyes, willing herself to believe that what he said was true. “But, Nicholas, we don’t even understand the charges. What if it’s Geoffrey who’s the reason?

He sat back with a grim laugh. “Then the charge would be witchcraft, not treason.” He settled himself against the pole to which they were bound. “Come, lean against me. We better try to get some sleep. I have a feeling tomorrow is going to be a long, bad day.”

Tomorrow came all too quickly. They were roused at the very first light of dawn, when the sun was less than a red wedge in the eastern sky over the London road, given a hard biscuit and a cup of water, and loaded once more into the rickety wagon. Stiff and sore, Olivia grimaced every time the wheels jounced over a rut or a pothole. More than one time, they were pelted with refuse as they passed through villages, despite the efforts of the soldiers to stop the abuse. And so slow was the progress, that the sun had long since passed its zenith by the time they passed beneath the stone gates that marked the entrance to the City of London.