It happens all the time, alas.’
‘Indeed, it does.’ Her father was the landlord of brothels. She knew what went on behind those doors, and actors were the worst sort of trouble there. Yet she couldn’t shake away the sense that something more was happening here.
She watched Rob as he pulled his shirt off over his head. He winced as the cloth brushed over his shoulder, and Anna could see why. A long gash arced over his upper ribs into the angle of his shoulder—a jagged red line that barely missed his heart. It was crusted over with dried blood, but some fresh, redder liquid still seeped out onto his smooth burnished skin.
There were older scars, as well—stark white reminders of other fights and wounds that marred his perfect beauty, making Anna remember the daily danger of this life.
She dampened a clean cloth and carefully dabbed at the new wound. She breathed shallowly, slowly, and kept her expression bland and calm. She had learned a thing or two about artifice from working around actors. Nothing should ever be what it seemed.
‘A quarrel over payment?’ she asked as she lightly sponged away the dried blood to examine the depth of the wound.
His breath roughened but he didn’t move away from her. He just watched her with that steady, unreadable look on his face, with those blue eyes that seemed to see so much yet give nothing away.
Anna slowly raised her gaze to meet his. She saw why the bawds fought over him as they did. He was the last sort of man she needed in her life, but he was a rare specimen of manhood with that face, and that lean, strong body displayed before her now. He was a danger just by simply being himself, and whatever it was he kept so well hidden only made him more so.
She dropped her attention back to the work of cleaning the wound. The coppery tang of blood was a timely reminder.
‘Aye,’ he answered after a long, heavy pause. ‘Her keeper tried to charge me more than agreed on after we were done. Something I’m sure your esteemed father would never do in one of his houses.’
Was that sarcasm in his voice? Anna nearly laughed. She wouldn’t put anything past her father and his business practices. He was such an old rogue. But not even he would cheat Robert Alden.
And neither would anyone else in Southwark. Too many had felt the chill of Rob’s dagger, and ever since he’d been tossed into Bridewell Prison for a short spell after a fatal duel he had grown even colder. That had been before he’d become a sharer in Lord Henshaw’s Men, and one of their most popular actors and playwrights, so Anna didn’t know the details of the crime. But she had heard all the gossip.
‘And he did this to you? The bawd’s pimp?’ she said, as she dabbed some of the sticky salve onto the clean wound. ‘For I would wager it was not the girl herself who took a blade to you.’
A hint of his usual careless grin whispered over his lips. ‘Nay, she couldn’t bear to ruin my handsome looks. But it wasn’t that boar-pig of a pimp who did this.’
‘It wasn’t? Two brawls in one night? That’s a great deal even for you, Rob.’
‘It was an old quarrel. Nothing to worry about at all, fair Anna.’
‘Then I hope it was resolved at last. Or someday someone will ruin your looks, I fear.’
‘I’m touched that you worry about me.’
Anna laughed. She reached for a roll of bandages and wrapped the linen tightly over Rob’s shoulder. The white cloth was stark against his bare skin. ‘I worry about my family’s business. With no more Robert Alden plays the White Heron would surely suffer a loss of receipts, and my father has many expenses.’
Rob suddenly caught her wrist in his grasp, his fingers wrapping round it in a tight, warm caress. For all his wounded state, he was still very strong. He drew her closer—so close she could feel his breath on her throat, the alluring heat of his body against hers.
‘You wound me, Anna,’ he said, and for once there was no laughter in his deep, velvet-smooth voice. ‘Is that truly what you think of me?’
She wasn’t sure what she thought of him. He had confused her ever since she’d met him, when she’d come back to her father’s house after the blessed end of her wretched marriage. He was unpredictable, attractive, changeable …
Dangerous.
She tried to pull her hand away from him, to create a safer distance between them. For an instant his hand tightened and she thought he wasn’t going to let her go. She swayed towards him, not even realising what she was doing.
He pressed a quick, hard kiss to the inside of her wrist. ‘Of course you do,’ he muttered, and let her go.
Anna stumbled back a step. She still felt dizzy, baffled, and she didn’t like that feeling at all. In her marriage she’d had no power, no control, and she had worked hard since to make her life her own. She didn’t want Robert Alden, with his handsome face and wild ways, tossing her back into turmoil again.
She wouldn’t allow it.
She scooped up his rumpled shirt from where he had dropped it on the clothes chest and tossed it to him. Despite his wound, he caught it neatly with one hand.
‘We all need you here, Robert,’ she said. ‘Your careless behaviour endangers us all.’
He laughed, and Anna thought she heard a bitter note to it, underneath the dismissive carelessness. Did he see what he did to them? Did he care at all?
He pulled the shirt over his head, covering the bandage, and said, ‘I have disappointed you again, fairest Anna. But don’t despair—I will have the new play to you within a fortnight. I’m sure even I can stay healthy and whole for that long.’
Anna wasn’t so sure. Temptations lurked around every corner in Southwark, and Rob wasn’t one to deny them. Her doubt must have shown on her face, for Rob laughed again.
‘Perhaps you would want to lock me up in your garret?’ he said. ‘I could slip you the pages under the door as I write them, and with every scene you could reward me with bread and ale—and whatever else you might care to bestow.’
With kisses, maybe, like his bawds? Exasperated, Anna threw the rest of the bandages at his head. ‘Don’t tempt me, Robert Alden—I may do just that!’ She whirled round and dashed from the room, his laughter following her as she went.
‘I look forward to being your captive, Anna,’ he called. ‘I can think of so many ways we could pass the time.’
She slammed the door behind her, cutting off his infuriating laughter, and made her way back to the open air and light of the theatre. The actors were all gathered there, milling around on stage as if waiting to see what would happen next.
‘What are you all loitering about for?’ Anna shouted. She was thoroughly fed up with actors and their wild doings. ‘We have a performance this very afternoon and there is no time to waste.’
They quickly went back to their rehearsal, and Anna returned to her sewing in the gallery, trying to get back to the day’s many tasks. But her hands were trembling so much she could scarcely wield the needle.
