Page 45 of Feathers in the Wind
As they turned for the door, she took his hand and turned it over so it was palm up. ‘This is for you.’
He turned over the ancient locket, her mother’s only piece of jewellery.
He flicked open the catch, revealing the lock of dark brown hair curled within it.
‘Take it,’ she said, looking up at him.
Her body ached for him to take her in his arms, and as if reading the longing in her gaze, he drew her toward him, his arm circling her waist, pressing her to him, forcing her to look up at him.
Perdita closed her eyes and surrendered to his lips, her passion matching his with a bruising intensity. His fingers meshed in her hair and her whole body tingled and ached for him. Even as she surrendered to the powerful need to be his arms, a wave of guilt swept through her. Why did she not feel like this when Simon kissed her?
As if he sensed her thoughts, he released her and in a swift movement he fastened the locket around his neck, turned on his heel, and with his boots in his hand, Adam was gone.
The barest shimmer of light lifted the dark beyond the windows. Perdita shivered and drew her cloak around her. She tiptoed back to her room, flung herself down on the bed, and prepared for the storm that would surely engulf the house when Louise discovered her prey had escaped her.
* * *
Perdita did not considerherself a coward, but even as she descended the stairs to the sound of Louise’s voice raised in anger coming from the parlour her courage failed her and she considered returning to the safety of her own chamber with the door locked.
But she had promised Denzil, and in the dark of the night, Denzil had showed himself to be, at heart, a decent human being. Louise had to be faced.
Taking a deep breath Perdita walked in on an ugly scene. Louise’s hair was in disarray, and her face contorted with rage. Denzil by contrast looked pale but composed.
‘Louise, for the love of the good Christ, I have a headache,’ he said.
‘Is there something amiss?’ Perdita enquired, schooling her face to the well-practiced neutrality she had employed in dealing with her husband.
‘He’s gone,’ Louise shrieked.
‘I know.’ Perdita laid the key Denzil had given her on the table in front of Louise.
Louise's eyes blazed. ‘How dare you interfere?’
She raised her hand but Denzil caught it as Perdita took a step back, anticipating the blow.
Louise shot her husband a look of pure fury but her hand fell. Straightening, she pushed her hair back behind her ears and took a deep breath as if bringing her surging emotions back under control. She swallowed, and with narrowed eyes advanced on Perdita. ‘What gave you the right to interfere in this matter? It is no business of yours.’
Perdita struggled to keep her features neutral, although her heart pounded and her guts surged like water. Samuel Gray was a lamb compared to this wolf in woman’s clothing.
Carefully avoiding Denzil’s eyes, Perdita fixed on the beautiful face and glittering eyes of Louise. ‘God willed me to do it. He spoke to me in the night and told me that what you were planning was against his will.’
Louise stared at her. ‘God? What has God to do with this?’
Perdita placed a pious hand on her breast. ‘God wished to remind you of his holy writ. “Thou shalt not bear false witness”, and I truly believe that is what you planned in your heart, Lady Marchant.’
Louise paled and her breath escaped between half-opened lips. Her hand reached for the back of a chair. Her gaze locked with Perdita, the hatred in her eyes burning through to Perdita's soul.
‘I’ll not forget this, Mistress Gray.’
A cold chill ran down Perdita’s spine and once more she found herself making the sign against witches.
Louise straightened, patting her disordered curls back into some semblance of order. She shot a glance at her husband. ‘Denzil, Her Majesty is expecting me this morning. I’m leaving.’ Without a backward glance at Perdita she left the room.
Before Perdita could speak, Robin burst through the door, his face flushed, his hat in his hand. ‘Sorry, Denzil, no sign of him. He must have been gone hours. He took my horse too. We’ll never catch him before he makes Warwick.’
Denzil made a show of banging his fist on the table. ‘God rot him. Nothing for it Rob, the queen is moving on today so we must be gone. Go and ready the men.’
Robin saluted and turned on his heel, no longer Bess’s lovesick swain but a soldier.
