The Virgin's War (Tudor Legacy #3)(86)
“Stop it,” Anabel commanded wearily. “We will do both. You know we prepared for this, Kit. I must ride on to Lord Scrope’s forces and get them moving toward York.”
“It’s not safe.”
“And leaving York in a skiff was? I must alert Lord Scrope and ride back with his men to York. The city will open its gates to me—and I can ensure they are kept firmly shut against the Spanish.” She tipped her chin up. “And Stephen will take his mercenary force as fast as they can move to Hull and get hold of Pippa.”
“I’m going with Stephen,” Kit announced. It was a measure of his fear for his twin that he would consider leaving Anabel.
It was Stephen who protested. “No. The princess needs protection.”
“You have any number of highly trained soldiers at your command.”
“And I will release some to attend her, but are you really proposing to put the safety of the Princess of Wales in any hands but your own?”
“But Pippa…”
Anabel held her breath. She wanted Kit with her—so badly that it hurt—but she would never put him in the position of having to choose between two loves.
Stephen managed it neatly for her. “I will get to Pippa. You can trust me for that, Kit. Get Anabel to Lord Scrope and then march his army to York as fast as you can. The Princess of Wales must reach the city with armed men before the Spanish, or this war will begin with a major disadvantage to us.”
The struggle was evident on Kit’s face, but fear and old jealousy and sibling rivalry was submerged beneath the stern sense of duty that Dominic Courtenay had instilled in his children. Kit bowed to the wisdom of Stephen’s logic with as much grace as he could manage.
“Give us a dozen men,” he said. “And let Anabel sleep for a few hours. We’ll leave at first light.”
She was the one with the last word, as she nearly always was. “Stephen, if I were to win York and lose Pippa…”
“I will bring her back,” Stephen promised. “Besides, she has Matthew with her. Anyone who wants to hurt Pippa will have to get through her husband first.”
Initially Pippa was kept alone in a cramped cabin below deck. But someone more cautious than Navarro—perhaps someone who knew that King Philip had a fondness for his daughter’s friend—must have protested, for within hours Madalena was allowed to join her. She reported that Matthew was being questioned by the ship’s captain. That was no worry. Pippa was not afraid of the Spanish military. Professional men were not usually fanatics.
Navarro was another sort of man entirely. Freed now of the need to ingratiate himself with Anabel and her household, his contempt burned bright each time he entered her makeshift cell. It was comfortable enough, for a ship, belonging as it did to the first lieutenant. Presumably Mary Stuart had taken over the captain’s quarters. There had been no question—yet—of securing Pippa bodily beyond putting her behind a guarded door. But there was a porthole maybe wide enough for a woman in her shift to wiggle through, and Pippa wagered these men would not guess that she could swim. So could Madalena. If necessary, Pippa would force her to leave that way. She herself would go nowhere without Matthew.
Besides, her hour had come. Now that it was upon her, Pippa met it with an equanimity that, if not perfect, gave a good imitation of being so. She slept through the night, and when daylight came, began counting the hours of her confinement. She simply wanted to get on with things.
She did not flinch when the door opened to again admit Tomás Navarro.
Now free to be wholly himself, the priest was more physically attractive than she had ever known him. There must be women who at one time or another had regretted his spiritual calling. But Pippa knew a lot of attractive men. She was not disturbed by beauty.
“If only you knew,” Navarro said softly, “how I have longed for this. To face you as you are, stripped of royal protection. And without any need on my part for a pretense of civility.”
“If past encounters were your idea of civility, I cannot imagine how unpleasant you will be now.”
He ignored her sarcasm. “In all England, there is no opponent more dangerous than a pretty girl with a serpent’s tongue…and a witch’s charms.”
“You underestimate our soldiers, not to mention our navy.”
“Princess Anne was meant to be England’s salvation. But how could she ever see her true path, with a bastard heretic for a mother and you, dripping your honeyed lies into her ears at every turn? She is stubborn and must be chastised. But you?”
Navarro smiled, the first time Pippa had ever seen him do so. It chilled her to her fingertips.
“?‘Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live,’?” he quoted. “Who am I to gainsay Holy Church?”
“Holy Church says even a witch must have a trial.” Not that Pippa liked the thought of the Inquisition, but all she need do was delay. Someone would come for her.
“You have been on trial since the moment I met you, Lady Philippa. Coming here—this little deception of yours—was the final piece of evidence against you. The moment I realized that you kept Princess Anne from doing her duty, the verdict was delivered. You are guilty, my lady. And it is my place to punish the guilty.”
“By burning me at the stake for heresy on English soil?”