said nothing. Hugo saw that her face was rosy from the warmth of the fire but around her dark blue eyes the skin was white. He knew she was afraid.
‘I would not do that, Alys, unless I was tempted very badly,’ he said. ‘But my father stands in my light – d’you see it, Alys? If it were not for his order that I stay here I would be in London. If it were not for his schemes to keep Catherine’s entailed lands I would be free of her. If it were not for his ambition to be hidden, his passion for peace, I would be at court, chancing my life and my wealth for tremendous prizes. Can you see how impatient I am, Alys?’
Alys’ lips were pressed together. Hugo had hold of both her hands. If he had not held her fast she would have clapped them over her ears.
‘Your chance will come, when God wills,’ she said as he waited for her to reply. ‘You will have to be patient, my lord.’
He leaned forward so his face was very close to hers. ‘And if I am not patient?’ he asked. ‘If I am not patient and I found someone to assist me? If my father were ill and no one could heal him? If he died? If then I set my wife aside? If I were rid of my wife? Rid of my wife and looking for a woman that I could trust, to hold the castle for me while I was away. A woman who could read, who could write? A woman who would be mine, sworn to my interest, dependent on me? A woman who would be my ears and eyes. Like you watch and listen for my father?’
Alys could not move. His whisper was hypnotic, he was luring her into some trap which she could not foresee.
‘I have to be free,’ she said in a low voice of longing.
‘Do I tempt you, Alys?’ he asked softly. ‘The wealth and the power?’
He saw her eyes darken slightly as if with desire.
‘And pleasure,’ he went on. ‘Nights and long days of pleasure with me?’
Alys jerked backwards as if he had thrown cold water in her face. She pulled her hands free.
‘I have to go,’ she said abruptly.
He rose as she did and slid one hand around her waist, holding her close to him. His mouth came down towards her. Alys felt her head tip back, her lips open.
Then he released her and stepped back.
Alys staggered a little, off balance.
‘Go now,’ he said. His dark eyes were bright with mischief. ‘You can go now, Alys. But you are learning who is your master, are you not? You cannot hide behind my father for much longer. I have had many wenches and I know the signs of it. You desire me already, though you hardly know it yet. You have taken the bait like a salmon in the spring flood. You may swim and swim but I shall land you at last. You will dream of me, Alys, you will long for me. And in the end, you will come to me and beg me to touch you.’
He smiled at her white face.
‘And then I will be gentle to you,’ he said. ‘And I will make you all mine. And you will never be free again.’
Alys turned from him and stumbled towards the kitchen door.
‘You’re in very deep now,’ he said softly to himself, as she pulled the door open and fled across the lobby to the great hall. ‘You’re in very deep, my Alys.’
For twelve nights Alys lay wakeful, waiting for the dawn light to come with winter slowness. For twelve days she moved in a dream through her work for the old lord, writing what he ordered without taking in any sense of the words. She picked herbs for him and brewed them or pounded them according to their potency. She sat in Lady Catherine’s chamber and nodded and smiled when they called on her to speak.
For twelve days she waded through a river of darkness and confusion. She had never longed more for the quiet certainties of Mother Hildebrande. She had never missed those ordered easy days more acutely. For twelve days Alys wandered around the castle like a ghost and when she heard a door bang, and Hugo’s merry whistle, she found she was trembling as if she had an ague.
She was by the castle gate when he rode in from hunting one day, his cap lost – blown away on the moor – his face bright. When he saw her he vaulted from the saddle and tossed the reins to one of the men.
‘I have killed you a grand dinner, Alys!’ he said joyfully. ‘A wild boar. They will stuff it and bring its head in and lay it at your feet! And you shall eat rich meat and dark gravy and nibble on the honeyed crackling! My Alys!’
Alys fumbled for her basket. ‘I am fasting,’ she said breathlessly. ‘It is Saint Andrew’s day, my lord. I do not eat meat today.’
He laughed carelessly, as if none of it mattered at all. ‘That nonsense!’ he exclaimed. ‘Alys, Alys, don’t cling to the old dead ways that mean nothing to anyone any more! Eat fish when you want to! Eat meat when you are hungry! Don’t let me ride out all day, and chasing a wild boar too, and then turn your face away from me and tell me you won’t dine with me!’
Alys could feel her hands trembling. She held the basket tighter. ‘You must excuse me,’ she said. ‘I …’
There was a shout from behind them as someone drove a cart through the narrow gateway. Hugo pressed forward, his hands either side of Alys’ head. She shrank back against the wall and then felt him, deliberately, lean his warm body against her. Her stomacher was like armour, her gable hood like a helmet. But when Hugo pressed against her she felt the heat of his body through her clothes. She smelled the clean, fresh smell of his linen, the sharp tang of his sweat. His knee pressing against her legs, the brush of his thick padded codpiece against her thigh, was as intimate as if they were naked and alone together.
‘Don’t you long for a taste of it, Alys?’ he asked, his voice very soft in her ear. ‘Don’t you dream what it would taste like? All these forbidden good things? Can’t I teach you, can’t I teach you, Alys, to break some rules? To break some rules and taste some pleasure, now, while you are young and desirable and hot?’
And Alys, in the shadow of the doorway, with the warmth of him all around her and the whisper of his male temptation in her ear, turned her face up towards him and closed her eyes and knew her desire.
As lightly as a flicker of candleflame he brushed his lips against her open mouth, raised his head and looked down into her tranced face with his smiling dark eyes.
‘I sleep alone these nights,’ he said softly. ‘You know my room, in the round tower, above my father’s chamber. Any night you please, Alys, leave my father, climb higher up the tower instead of running to be with those silly women. Climb higher up the tower and I will give you more than a kiss in a gateway, more than a taste. More than you can dream of.’
Alys opened her eyes, hazy with desire.
Hugo smiled at her. His wicked, careless smile. ‘Shall you come tonight?’ he asked. ‘Shall I light a fire and warm the wine and wait for you?’
‘Yes,’ she said.
He nodded as if they had struck an agreeable bargain at last; then he was gone.
That night Alys ate the wild boar when they brought it to the women’s table. Hugo glanced behind him and she saw his secret smile. She knew then that she was lost. That neither the herbs nor the old lord’s warning to Hugo would stop him. And that no power of will could
