Piers was quiet for a long time. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore Alys. It … it’s in the past now. It doesn’t matter. All that matters is that I correct this mistake with the king. Judith Angwedd will not dishonor my father’s memory with this treachery—announcing to all the land that she deceived him so when he is unable to accuse her of wrong.”
“You’re going to Edward to defend his honor?” Alys said, shocked. “What of your own honor, Piers? Of what they have stolen from you—Judith Angwedd and Bevan and—yes—your own father?”
“I will have my justice,” Piers said quietly. “And it is naught that Gillwick’s lands or the title of its lord can gain me.”
“What better revenge could there be?” Alys asked.
But Piers never answered the question. Instead he began banking the fire, piling up the sandy soil in a ridge, causing the flames to hiss petulantly.
“So now you see how we are so different.”
Alys nodded slowly. “Yes, we are different, but we are also very much alike.”
He looked to her, the question clear in his expression. Alys obliged him.
“We are both on this journey to gain what we desire. You are going to gain Gillwick.”
“And you are going to escape marriage to Clement Cobb.” Piers shook his head at the fire.
“That was my intent the night I left Fallstowe, yes. But now my desire has changed. Grown bigger than I ever could have dreamed.” He looked at her and she swallowed, gathered her courage. “I go to London with you, for you. Foryou,Piers.Youare my desire.”
“Stop,” he said curtly and turned his gaze back to the flames.
This time it was Alys who shook her head. “No. Piers, I can help you in London, I feel it.”
He sighed and sat down near her, his arms wrapped around one wide, drawn-up knee. “How? By getting yourself thrown in the dungeon? I don’t even know myself how I will convince Edward of the truth—all I have is hearsay from a dying man, told by his common bastard son, and a ring my father never wore, which Judith Angwedd will surely say that I stole, any matter.”
“Thatisa problem,” Alys admitted. “But I know that we are stronger together than apart. Our unlikely union has—” She broke off as the answer came to her with such blinding surety that for a moment, Alys’s head throbbed.
“Has …?” Piers prompted, a trace of humor in his voice. “Words failing you for once?”
“Piers,” she whispered, her eyes wide. “You are not common any longer.”
“I am until Edward decrees otherwise,” Piers said ruefully.
“No. No, that is not true.” Alys couldn’t help thestunned huff of laughter that came from her throat. “You are actually … quite wealthy, right at this very moment.”
He turned to her, his face a mask of forced impatience. “What are you talking about?”
Her smile was slow, sly, and carried the weight of her imminent triumph. “You are related to the most powerful house in all of England …husband.”
His frown deepened, and then realization dawned on his face. “Bloody hell,” he whispered.
Then Alys leaned so close to him that Piers had to draw his head back to look down at her upturned face. Her eyes played over his face, his lips.
“Nowwill you kiss me?”
Piers had not kissed her. Instead he’d sent her to sleep like a troublesome child, which had stung her pride and hurt her feelings, Piers knew. But he needed time alone, to think without her constant chatter and questioning. Once he was certain she was occupied by her dreams, he sat at the edge of the overhang, one knee drawn up, one foot dangling into the blackness of the ravine.
Alys Foxe, Alys Foxe. She was either the greatest blessing or the greatest curse to ever have come into his life. Since the fateful night they had met at the old ring, he had been denying her superstitious claim to him, thinking to protect both of their interests. Certainly, what man in possession of good sense would refuse any one of the Foxe ladies? Not simply the wealthiest women in all of England, but ruling the most powerful house beyond the throne? Even the king himself seemed unable to command them.
Piers knew that no matter how flattering it was for a woman such as Alys Foxe to chase him, any attraction she felt for him was likely only novelty. Once she came to realizethe simplicity of him, the humbleness of his birth and life and home—even should he be successful in his endeavor to claim Gillwick—she would tire of him. She would long once more for the riches of her family, the wealth and luxury. Even though she only spoke of her sisters as a burden to her, Piers guessed that the women shared a close bond. Piers had no love to show her, give her. He doubted he even knew what the emotion meant.
Perhaps his mother had loved him. His memories of her—old and gray and fleeting—were warm and smiling. But he did wonder if that was naught but a sad little boy’s longing, to remember his mother as a loving protector. Had he ever been truly happy in his life? Piers could not say that he had. But he had known sadness. And loss, and anger and resentment and hate and jealousy. He had nothing to offer Alys Foxe but those things, and when she wearied of playing with him—as she undoubtedly would—his life would only be that much more miserable.
He had heard melancholy old women say that it is better to have a fleeting love than no love at all. But Piers did not agree. Having the love of his mother for those few years had only brought into stark relief the lack of tenderness and care in his life once she was gone. It had made him bitter, yes. But strong. He was strong. That was the only reason he was still alive.
Piers could not allow himself to love Alys Foxe, or to let her even think for a moment that him loving her was possible. But the opportunity she presented him now was almost too tempting to refuse. They had been completely alone together now for days, a fact that could be easily verified by her family. They had known Alys was running away to the Foxe Ring, and Sybilla herself had given her blessing upon any man Alys met at the ring who would have her. It was no secret that many in the land used theold stones to find a mate, and the superstition was so highly regarded that most of the time a formal ceremony was not even held.
