Lady in Waiting by Denise Domning

Author:Denise Domning [Denise Domning]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2011-09-25T14:00:00+00:00

Kit stood in the open door of this, their first secret practice venue, awaiting his student’s arrival. Just beyond the structure’s eaves a fine rain fell. He looked to the horizon. The gray weakened. Another hour or two, and they might actually see the sky.

Shifting in his stance, he glanced across the short expanse of grass to the neat array of houses—all whitewashed walls and dark timber with thatch for roofing—that was the village to the east of Greenwich. Smoke lifted and curled from chimneys, the smell of burning wood twining into the tangy spice of the nearby Thames. Shouts rose from the river’s bank as boats came and went. These folk were as much fishermen as farmers.

With nothing to do but wait, Kit let his thoughts drift back to his previous night’s dream. It started as his usual nightmare, with him a child once more. Nick appeared, and they’d once again begun fighting their childhood battle. Much to Kit’s surprise, Mistress Anne then joined them in his dream kitchen. With that, the nightmare softened into something far more provocative.

As grateful as Kit was for escaping the horror of his past, there was a touch of guilt at the thought of Mistress Anne coming between him and Nick, even in a dream.

At that moment, the mud-speckled party appeared and started across the grass, heading for the wide, cobbled apron that fronted this doorway. He knew them because, although the rest of the group had their hoods pulled low on their foreheads, Bertie had thrown back his hood and his black curls gleamed with moisture. Such was Bertie’s vanity that he couldn’t bear to deny the world his beauty.

As for the rest, Kit could still tell who was who. The musicians looked humpbacked and misshapen with their instruments strapped to their backs and hidden beneath their outer garments. As for the women, the brown skirts peeping through her cloak’s edges placed Mistress Watkins on Bertie’s left. Mistress Anne strode at his man’s right, her cloak gray and her skirts, black. She was close enough now that Kit could see the pale oval of her face beneath her hood. Her smile flashed. Whatever she said caused Bertie to look at her, the pleased movement of his mouth leaving a deep dent in either cheek.

Jealousy’s sword stabbed through Kit as he recognized Bertie’s smile as the one he saved for the women he most wanted to bed. Anger followed. He’d kill the man if Bertie dared touch his Nan.

Kit caught his breath. May God take him, but he’d settled this matter with himself only yesterday. She wasn’t his; she could never be, especially, not now.

Yesterday, when Ned told the tale of Sir Amyas refusing an offer for Nan’s hand then asked about a contract for marriage, she’d lied. Not only did she know that such a contract existed, she knew who it was her grandsire intended as her husband. If Kit read her reaction rightly, she was none too pleased over her grandsire’s choice.

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