curious,” he said, standing in front of a confectioners, the shop’s bowfront full of trays laden with sweets, “but when I had nothing in my pockets but holes, every window held something I wanted.”
“And now?”
“I’ve wealth enough to buy it all. And see nothing to even spark my interest.”
“Isn’t that always the way.” She laughed, dragging him on down the street. “Come. Together we’ll find you something to waste your money on.”
They rounded the corner, and Rafe stopped dead in his tracks. There it was. A gown in the sheerest of white silks, the deep revealing neckline beaded in silver. His gaze traveled from the window to Gwenyth and back. He’d gladly spend any amount to see her in that. “What do you think?”
Gwenyth looked it over with a critical eye. “Leave it to a man to fancy a frippery so delicate, you couldn’t sit without ruining it.”
“Well, it’s not exactly what one would wear herb-gathering, but in the right setting…with the right music…”
She fought a laugh. “I’ve told you before. I’m not seeking riches or the trinkets that go with them. I’m content with my life as it is.”
“Are you?” he couldn’t help but ask. “Truly?”
Her eyes went flint-hard. “Aye. And now it’s your turn to be leaving it alone.”
He put up his hands. “We’ve both tested the boundaries. We both know the limits. Friends?”
Her lips curled in the barest of smiles. “Very well, Captain. Show me this gown of yours.”
Coming in out of the sun, Rafe squinted against the sudden gloom of the shop.
“May I be of assistance?” A girl appeared from the back through a heavy green curtain.
“The gown. The one in the window,” Rafe began.
Her eyes softened. “It’s lovely, isn’t it? Madame’s best work.”
“Is she here? I’d like to speak with her about—”
“Rafe,” Gwenyth interrupted. “Outside. It’s him.” She pointed out the front window.
“Who?” Rafe followed the track of Gwenyth’s finger, but the sidewalk outside held too many for him to pick anyone out from the rest.
“The man from the village. He watches. I can feel his questions. His haste.” She faced him. “His dislike.”
Unease slithered across his shoulders. He’d not actively made enemies, but he hadn’t sought friends, and there were many in the trade who’d resented his skills and his luck and the rewards that came with them. “I’m going to end this right now.”
He tore out of the shop, Gwenyth at his heels. “Where? Which way?”
She wheeled in a circle, eyes scanning the crowds. “I can’t see him. I’m not even sure what he’s looking like. I can only feel him. The way he stalks you. The purpose behind his watching.”
“Then we’ll lose him. Easy enough in this madness.” He grabbed her roughly, pulled her along as they crossed the street, dodging traffic. Down Fore Street, they hurried. Never looking back. Never slowing their steps.
Ahead, the river gleamed blue-black as it slid below the bridge. But beyond, there was little cover. Instead, he turned onto West Gate beneath the city’s walls, ducked back into Preston. Letting the huddle of alleys and lanes shield them from the lurking presence of the watcher.
Gwenyth never faltered, but held steady beside him, only her rushed breathing an indication of the pace. Winded, he slid into a narrow crooked street, dank with smells from the river and quayside refuse. A tall brick wall edged one side, the boundary of a church’s garden or cloisters. “Does he still follow?”
She gripped her side, her breathing loud. “Nothing. He’s gone.”
He couldn’t decide whether he was relieved or not. He’d rather meet his enemy face-on, not worry about the shadow behind him, never knowing who prepared the dagger for his back. And if they tracked him to Bodliam? What then? He’d thought he put his past life behind him. But did it follow him still?
“I want you safe. Head to the cathedral. I’ll go on to
“And now?”
“I’ve wealth enough to buy it all. And see nothing to even spark my interest.”
“Isn’t that always the way.” She laughed, dragging him on down the street. “Come. Together we’ll find you something to waste your money on.”
They rounded the corner, and Rafe stopped dead in his tracks. There it was. A gown in the sheerest of white silks, the deep revealing neckline beaded in silver. His gaze traveled from the window to Gwenyth and back. He’d gladly spend any amount to see her in that. “What do you think?”
Gwenyth looked it over with a critical eye. “Leave it to a man to fancy a frippery so delicate, you couldn’t sit without ruining it.”
“Well, it’s not exactly what one would wear herb-gathering, but in the right setting…with the right music…”
She fought a laugh. “I’ve told you before. I’m not seeking riches or the trinkets that go with them. I’m content with my life as it is.”
“Are you?” he couldn’t help but ask. “Truly?”
Her eyes went flint-hard. “Aye. And now it’s your turn to be leaving it alone.”
He put up his hands. “We’ve both tested the boundaries. We both know the limits. Friends?”
Her lips curled in the barest of smiles. “Very well, Captain. Show me this gown of yours.”
Coming in out of the sun, Rafe squinted against the sudden gloom of the shop.
“May I be of assistance?” A girl appeared from the back through a heavy green curtain.
“The gown. The one in the window,” Rafe began.
Her eyes softened. “It’s lovely, isn’t it? Madame’s best work.”
“Is she here? I’d like to speak with her about—”
“Rafe,” Gwenyth interrupted. “Outside. It’s him.” She pointed out the front window.
“Who?” Rafe followed the track of Gwenyth’s finger, but the sidewalk outside held too many for him to pick anyone out from the rest.
“The man from the village. He watches. I can feel his questions. His haste.” She faced him. “His dislike.”
Unease slithered across his shoulders. He’d not actively made enemies, but he hadn’t sought friends, and there were many in the trade who’d resented his skills and his luck and the rewards that came with them. “I’m going to end this right now.”
He tore out of the shop, Gwenyth at his heels. “Where? Which way?”
She wheeled in a circle, eyes scanning the crowds. “I can’t see him. I’m not even sure what he’s looking like. I can only feel him. The way he stalks you. The purpose behind his watching.”
“Then we’ll lose him. Easy enough in this madness.” He grabbed her roughly, pulled her along as they crossed the street, dodging traffic. Down Fore Street, they hurried. Never looking back. Never slowing their steps.
Ahead, the river gleamed blue-black as it slid below the bridge. But beyond, there was little cover. Instead, he turned onto West Gate beneath the city’s walls, ducked back into Preston. Letting the huddle of alleys and lanes shield them from the lurking presence of the watcher.
Gwenyth never faltered, but held steady beside him, only her rushed breathing an indication of the pace. Winded, he slid into a narrow crooked street, dank with smells from the river and quayside refuse. A tall brick wall edged one side, the boundary of a church’s garden or cloisters. “Does he still follow?”
She gripped her side, her breathing loud. “Nothing. He’s gone.”
He couldn’t decide whether he was relieved or not. He’d rather meet his enemy face-on, not worry about the shadow behind him, never knowing who prepared the dagger for his back. And if they tracked him to Bodliam? What then? He’d thought he put his past life behind him. But did it follow him still?
“I want you safe. Head to the cathedral. I’ll go on to
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