The High Sheriff of Huntingdon (42 page)

She
watched him
leave
as
she
pulled
the
loose
dress
up over her shoulders again.
She
didn’t
trust
him, n
e
v
e
r
had.
But he
was
her
only hope
against
her
husband’s sudden decree, and she was
willing
t
o
use
anything and
anyone
to
keep
from
being dismissed like so
much
un
wanted baggage. She
wouldn’t
be sent away from
h
i
m
, back
to
the
living
death of
the
convent.
She
wouldn’t leave
him, and
s
h
e
’
d
accept help from the devil himself
to accomplish that.

Gilles
De Lancey
was
a
l
m
o
s
t
angelic
in
h
i
s
beauty.
She was mad
not to trust him. Mad
not
to want
to
e
s
c
a
pe
with his help when she had
the
chance.

The chapel was a thatched wooden
structure
outside
the
keep, u
npleasantly
adjacent to the pigsties and
the
kitchens.
Most
castles
the
size of Huntingdon Keep
had a chapel i
n
s
i
d
e
,
b
ut Alistair
had turned it
into
a gaming room, relegating
w
h
a
t
e
v
e
r
religious
observances
he
tolerated to the
older
church
building.

Elspeth
half-expected
someone to
stop
her as she
made her way across
the
littered courtyard less
t
h
a
n
an
h
ou
r
later,
but
if
anyone
watched
her, they
did so
covertly.

No
o
n
e
had ever
s
h
o
w
n
up
with
a
c
h
a
n
g
e
of clothes
for
her
and
Elspeth had
grown
tired
of
waiting. If worse came
t
o worst and
she
returned to the Sisters
of the
Everlasting
Martyr
in
the blood-red
dress of
a
witch,
it
wouldn’t be her
fault.
She wouldn’t even
care if
Reverend Mother refused
her admittance.

The chapel was
d
e
se
rte
d
when
she
s
t
e
pp
e
d
inside,
cl
osing
the door behind
her.
Dust
motes floated in
the air, and the
smell
of
i
n
c
en
s
e
almost
overpowered the
smell from the
kitchen
pits. Almost.
Elspeth
glanced around
her, but
there
was
no sign of
Friar
Parkin,
no
sign of anyone
a
t
all.
She knelt at
the ornately carved
altar,
crossing herself, trying to
concentrate
on
prayer.
But
all she could
think of
was her husband.

“There
y
o
u
are.”
De
Lancey’s
voice
s
e
e
m
e
d
to
come
from directly above her, and it took
all
Elspeth’s
self
control not to jump.
She
forced
herself
to
keep
her head down, to continue
the prayer
that
had
only
a
fraction
of her attention, before crossing herself
again and looking upward.

“Where
is Friar
Parkin?” she asked, sitting back
on
her
heels.

“You didn’t really
want to
see him,
did you?
I
thought we were
going
to
make plans
for
your future.”

There
was
something
about the smug expression in his
bri
g
h
t
blue
eyes,
the
faint
swagger
in his muscular
body,
that sent
a
chill of apprehension
through Elspeth.
“I
had wanted to
make my
confession.”

“Make
it
to me, my lady. I’d delight
to hear
the details.
You
m
u
s
t
have
h
i
d
d
e
n
talents,
to
turn Alistair into such
a wreck.
I’ve
never
tried a nun.”

Her
back stiffened. “You
said you
would help me
.”

“
And
so
I will.
I
want you to
come away
with me,
dear lady. Alistair doesn’t
want you, but
I
do.
I
have
no
objections
to
taking his leavings—I’ve
done
so
often
enough.
My
home
is small but
snug,
and
I’m
certain
I
can keep you well
distracted.
I’
m
considered
a
talented
lover.”