The Dark Knight (34 page)

Their gazes met as they had the previous night and she saw the same wariness in his eyes, as if he were waiting for her to correct his mistake. She would never eat
moscardino
, never see his city, never marvel over its riches. The look he gave her made her think he might be starting to feel guilty about his role in her undeserved fate. And that led her thoughts right back to what awaited her in London. The Tower, or a dangerous escape to an uncertain life.

As if he had guessed the direction of her thoughts, he abruptly changed the subject. He declared that he was tired of monopolizing the conversation and started asking questions about her family. He wanted to know more about her life at Coleway and the people who had been a part of it, who and what she liked and disliked, how she spent her days. She tried to answer his questions with as few words as possible. The source of his interest remained a mystery and she distrusted his motives for being so friendly, so … so much like Sir Percival.

However, there was nothing better to do with her time and it was easier to answer his questions than listen to him pester her until she provided the details. Soon she
would never be able to talk this freely with anyone about her life, whether she was in prison or living under a false name as the widow Agnes. He seemed especially interested in stories about Coleway’s steward, and she quickly warmed to the tales of John’s manipulations and deceits. What surprised her most was whenever he laughed at one of her stories or made some jest. One did not expect a sense of humor in an assassin. She had certainly never expected to be laughing
with
him again.

Her friendly behavior toward him was a ploy, of course, a deception to keep him from suspecting she had a plan to escape. At least, that’s what she told herself. Their conversations also kept her mind occupied with far less bleak thoughts. By unspoken agreement they both avoided any subject that might lead toward talk of his time at Coleway, or Faulke Segrave, or her fate once he abandoned her. Surprisingly, she had little trouble finding subject matter. Their conversations were interesting yet cautious, a careful dance marked by frequent glances to gauge their partner’s reactions.

Her prayer that she would begin to find him repulsive went unanswered. Instead she caught herself marveling that she was chatting so effortlessly with her enemy, the man who had hurt her, a man rumored to have murdered scores of people. She really
should
fear him, but it was becoming pathetically obvious that she enjoyed his company. He was not some crazed killer. He was simply a man. An excessively handsome man who could be every bit as charming as Sir Percival, when he put his mind to it.

She was a little surprised when they made camp for the night in yet another deer-trampled meadow. It didn’t seem possible that the day was already spent and yet the lengthening shadows told a different story. Their conversation continued to flow easily enough from the time
they ate their meal until they were ready for bed, but there was a new note to the underlying strain, as if they both realized their false camaraderie must soon end.

Again she settled onto the very edge of the furs and turned away from him as he went through the ritual of removing his weapons. Eventually she heard him lie down next to her and she closed her eyes, wishing fervently for sleep to claim her. Her breath caught in her throat when she felt his hand on her shoulder, and then he insistently pulled on her arm until she rolled onto her back.

Looming above her, his eyes were intense. “Tell me about your plan to escape.”

“W-what?”

He waited.

She tried to inject just the right tone of affronted innocence into her voice. “I have no plan to escape.”

He shook his head. “Last night you were full of suggestions and bribes to avoid your fate in London, and I explained why they were impossible. Then when I suggested the most logical alternative, you turned your back on me and went to sleep.

“This morning you were wrapped again in your anger, but then you smiled and asked me about Venice. It finally occurred to me that my suggestion last night might have been too subtle, that you had only just realized what I meant. So today I cast the bait in more obvious ways and still it remains untouched.” He scowled down at her. “And that means I was wrong about your smile. The only other explanation is that you have come up with some plan for escape that you think can work.”

Oh, good Lord, his mind was devious. And he was exactly right. But she only understood half of what he said. “What bait?”

“Venice, of course,” he said dismissively. “Now, tell
me your plan. I do not want you to get hurt, and whatever escape plan you have come up with will only put yourself in danger. It definitely will not succeed, but you could be injured in the course of its failure.”

“Venice is bait for what?”

A crease appeared between his brows. “It was just a suggestion, one that is apparently of no interest.”

She gritted her teeth. “I would have to be aware of a suggestion before it would lack interest.”

“Are you truly unaware of what I offered?”

“I am truly unaware.” She carefully enunciated each word. “What are you talking about?”

“Venice,” he said again, now looking bewildered. “I thought you understood. Edward will never allow you to marry anyone who will be a threat to him in Wales. He does not want you anywhere near England or Wales. Soon I will cease to have any interest in Edward’s politics. I will be half a world away in Venice, and I have no plans to return to England.”

“Aye, you told me that last night.” Her voice sounded like it was coming from very far away. She was beginning to suspect what he was going to tell her. It made no sense. She was mistaken. This was another—

“Would you like to come with me?”

“What?” She all but screeched the word. She clapped a hand over her mouth as she sat up, and then managed to ask in a much quieter voice, “What are you talking about?”

“Venice is a very long way from England,” he said, speaking in slow, measured tones. It sounded as if he were trying to explain a very simple concept to a child. “As long as no one knows where to find you, exile to Venice would accomplish the same goal as imprisonment in the Tower. ’Tis possible you would be allowed to sail with me.”

Her breath caught in her throat and her heartbeat became erratic. Speech was beyond her. She was as stunned as when the lightning bolt had almost killed her.
This
was the bait he had been casting all day? How had she missed it?

“Of course, I would have to swear that you would disappear as completely as if you had been imprisoned in the Tower, provide assurances that you would never again be a threat to the king.” His eyes were fathomless pools of green, as compelling and hypnotic as any predator’s. He was her enemy, and yet he was offering her an escape. “No one would know you in Venice. You could begin a new life there.”

He expected some sort of response; that much was obvious in his expression, but she couldn’t trust anything she might say. She stared at his mouth, certain she had heard him wrong. His offer sounded too much like her plan to start a new life in London. How had he known? This was some new deceit, some new lie. Was he hoping to trick her into revealing her plan?

His gaze narrowed. “You don’t believe me?”

“Of course not.” How could that even be a question in his mind?

“If I
were
telling the truth, would you go with me to Venice?” He watched her carefully, as if her answer were of vital importance.

Surely there was a trap awaiting her, but would it spring forth with the lie or the truth?
Yes
was the only sensible answer. Who in their right mind would say
no
? However, yes could confirm his suspicion that she was planning an escape of the same nature.
No
could just as easily confirm the same suspicion. Why would she want to stay in England to rot in prison?

“Is the choice really so difficult?” he asked in a soft voice, his eyes fierce.

“I am trying to decide why you would even ask the question.” She shook her head and struggled to sound casual. “You obviously have some purpose in mind. Does it have something to do with your notion that I have a grand plan to escape? Or, do you think I will be more malleable on the journey to prison if you make me believe there is some hope of a reprieve?”

“I deserve that,” he murmured, as a crease formed between his brows. “Is it really so hard to believe that I would want to keep you with me?”

“Aye.” She made an unladylike sound. Did he really think her so gullible?

“My feelings for you have not changed.”

She wasn’t certain what his feelings for her were in the first place. Guilt? He had to know that she would not survive long in a dungeon, just as he knew she had done nothing to earn such a punishment. Did he intend to right that wrong, defend her from whatever false charges Edward would use to imprison her? What if he were serious about taking her to Italy? “The king would never agree to such a plan.”

“ ’Tis possible I can make Edward’s adviser see the logic of the idea.” He rolled onto his back and stacked his hands behind his head to look up at her. “I can be persuasive, when I wish to be.”

Oh, she knew that fact all too well. Indeed, she could provide her own testament to his skills at persuasion. Or was this another of his jests? Would his lips suddenly curve into a smile as he laughed at her gullibility? He had never struck her as an intentionally cruel man, but there was still much she did not know about him. She could not allow herself to hope until she was certain this was not another lie.

“Why?” she whispered. “Why would you do such a thing for me?”

“I should think the reasons are obvious.”

She gave him a skeptical look. She refused to believe he had any feelings for her in particular that any woman in general could not bestir in equal measure. “You do not have the sort of reputation that lends itself to gallantry toward women.”

“My reasons have nothing to do with gallantry,” he agreed. “Indeed, they are entirely selfish.”

She bit her lower lip and tried to think what other obvious reasons there might be. Nothing obvious or even obscure came to mind. Why was he staring at her mouth?

“You think me strange,” she pointed out, deciding it was time for brutal honesty. “And I know you only pretended to … like me as part of your deception.”

“I think you are unusual,” he corrected. “Indeed, you are unlike anyone I have ever known, and I know my fair share of unusual people.” He reached out to smooth a loose tendril of hair near her temple, and then his fingers slowly, purposely, trailed along her cheek until her lashes lowered involuntarily and she shivered. “You never react to anything as I think you will or as I know you should. I am a dangerous man, Avalene. Never forget that.”

“As if I could,” she muttered. One casual touch and her soft, silly heart had fluttered to life again. Anger over his betrayal was her last defense, the last solid wall around her battered heart. That wall would never survive if he turned his charm loose upon her again in full force, if he actually meant to rescue her from the Tower. She spoke as much to herself as to him. “I would bargain with the Devil himself to avoid spending the rest of my life in a prison.”

“Hm. Now I am akin to the Devil,” he mused. “And I
cannot decide if I am flattered or insulted that you might find my company preferable to prison.”

His casual dismissal of her emotions hurt. She was tired of him finding humor in her humiliation, tired of pretending she felt nothing. “You know well enough that I found your company preferable to any other. Just because your feelings for me were not real does not mean that mine were false. I made no mystery of how I felt about you.”

He went very still. “Your preference was for a man who does not exist.”

“He is before me now,” she said, waving her hand toward him. “When I look at you, I still see Sir Percival. When you speak, I hear his voice. I cannot separate Dante Chiavari from Sir Percival in my mind. You are not Sir Percival, and yet you are. Every time I look at you I see the man that I—”

Oh, she would not say those words. They were not true. She had fallen in love with Sir Percival. In that regard, he was absolutely right;
that
man did not exist.
This
man had used her, and felt no regret at all over his actions.

On the other hand, he had also saved her from the steward, and then saved her from a treasonous marriage to Faulke Segrave, and now he was offering to save her from the Tower. He was her champion, and then he was her enemy, and now he offered to be her champion again. Little wonder he had her so confused. Her thoughts were spinning tangled webs faster than her mind could sort through them.

“I am not the sort of man you seem to think I am,” he said in a quiet voice. “I am no chivalrous, high-minded knight. I am not even an honorable one.”

She studied his face in the fading light and wondered if she only imagined the regret in his voice, even a trace
of wistfulness. That was silly. He was the most self-assured man she had ever met, even when he was wrong.

“No matter what you call yourself, no matter what you have done, you are an honorable man in your own way. Why else would you make me such an offer?” That had to be what this was all about. He felt guilty because he was helping imprison an innocent woman. Perhaps his code of honor was not so different from Sir Percival’s as she had imagined. Or perhaps this was still some bizarre part of his deception. “No matter your reasons, you cannot expect me to forgive you for deceiving me and making light of my feelings.”

He sat up and leaned closer until his warm breath fanned across her face and brought with it his intoxicating scent. She began to feel light-headed. “I would never purposely make light of your feelings, Avalene. If I have done so inadvertently, you have my apology.”

“I was not asking for an apology.” She sat up straighter and tried to lean away from him without being obvious about it, holding herself stiff. She felt exposed and foolish for having brought up her traitorous feelings in the first place. What was she thinking?