Dove at Midnight by Rexanne Becnel

Author:Rexanne Becnel
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

14

“THEY COULD HAVE EASILY rid me of him. But no, they had to choose caution that day! The rogue yet remains free to torment me endlessly.”

King John paced his privy chamber, his hands fluttering in agitation; Even his beard seemed to quiver with anger.

“’Twould have caused you all manner of trouble had a man of his rank been cut down by the king’s men,” the queen commented, never looking up from the fish-scale file she used on a jagged edge of her thumbnail.

“And who was to know or spread the tale?” the graying king snapped.

Isabel raised her dark eyes to her husband. She spoke patiently and without anger, as if to a peevish child. “For one thing, there are the guards themselves. You may trust them to keep such information secret, but I do not. It takes but one drunken braggart to speak his part in the deed and the wrath of the barons would come fully against you.” She raised her nails for inspection, then when they met with her approval, tossed the fish scale into an embroidered basket. “There was also the girl. You cannot forget that she would have been witness to such a deed as well.”

“That fool Peyton could have sent someone back to do Blaecston in. She might never have known. And as for that, she is of no real value to me either. Oxwich is mine whether she lives or not.”

At last Isabel’s emotions flared. “Your complete lack of finesse will prove your undoing, mark my words. Killing Kempe or even the girl is no proper solution!” She took an angry breath and glared at him, but at his sullen expression, she relented. “There are ways and there are ways of dealing with the problem of Sir Rylan Kempe. He need not die to best serve your purposes.”

“Serve my purposes? Hah!” the king fumed. “He is ever there to say me nay. To sway the barons against me. To pester me with his treasonous notions. And they are treason! ’Tis my divine right to rule England—not the right of that bloody crowd of barons!”

“Of course it is, my love,” Isabel soothed. “But dealing harshly with him—having him killed—would only stir up the hornet’s nest to an even angrier pitch. Far better to play with him, to torment him before the eyes of the entire court.”

John’s brows raised slightly and he ceased his endless pacing. “Isabel?” His petulant expression was slowly replaced by a crafty smile. “What deviousness do you plot in that beautiful head of yours?” He strode over to her and tilted her face up with one finger beneath her chin. “Come now, tell me all.”

Isabel smiled, letting her full curving lips slide over her straight white teeth. “You have stolen Blaecston’s little jewel. He must have hoped to marry her himself—the treasured centerpiece of his Yorkshire crown. He is not likely to stay long away from court if you flaunt her here. Added to that, she is a fair chit, and will attract many an eye.

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