But of course he would be. I’d been nothing but trouble for him from the very start. “Forgive me, sir. I didn’t mean to anger you.” I’d spoken in my humblest voice, and I could see that he’d taken notice. After I’d spoken, he also seemed to be taking notice of my tear-streaked face. Embarrassed, I turned away from him.
He laid a hand on my shoulder and I did not shrink away. “What is it? Are you feeling alright?”
“I…” I took a deep breath and my lip quavered. How did I explain to him that I’d only just realized what he’d known for days—what he himself had tried to tell me? “I’m just thinking of my home, that is all.”
“Ah.” He gave me a pat on my shoulder and didn’t push any further as he dropped his hand and walked away to begin to lay the fire.
Strangely, I found that I wanted nothing less than the fate of being left alone to my thoughts, so I turned around and began to help. I began to fill my arms with the wood he’d found and when I brought it to him, he thanked me sweetly. Only on my way back to the woodpile did I notice a small bundle of twigs that lay separate from the rest. For some reason, seeing them made me still in my tracks.
“What are these?” I asked, striving to keep my voice light though my heart began thudding ominously.
I could feel Antony’s eyes on me as he answered. “They’re switches. I want you to pick one.”
I swallowed hard. “Why?”
“Firstly, because I asked you to, my lady. As to what it will be used for, I think you already know. However, I could show you, if you like.”
I’d begun shaking my head long before he’d ceased speaking. “No, thank you,” I whispered, unable to take my eyes off them. “It’s not necessary.”
“I thought not.” I watched silently for a few moments as he worked on the fire. Once he had a small blaze, he turned to me once more. “Come, little dove. Warm yourself by the fire.”
I thought of saying that I was not his servant to order around, but I had been drained of every emotion, which robbed me of even my oft impertinent tongue. As such, I walked toward him and sat down on a fallen log in front of the small blaze, watching as he tried to coax it higher by adding the dry leaves he found to the flames.
“It’s been a hard day for you,” he acknowledged, his eyes on the fire.
“It has.” My voice was soft and defeated.
“I’m sorry for it, my lady.”
I couldn’t help it—a laugh broke free from my lips before I knew what was happening. I smothered it quickly, but not before he noticed. “Why ever should you be?” I queried. “I am the one who has lost everything.”
“Yes, and that is why I am sorry, Cecily.” This time, he looked directly into my eyes as he spoke. “Do you think it gives me any joy to see your pain?”
“What were you doing at the castle that day?” The words came tumbling out before I knew I was going to say them. “Were you there to steal horses too?” The question propelled me to my feet, and I began to pace, struggling not to set free the tears that prickled my eyes. “But that doesn’t make any sense! How could you have known what would happen?
“Cecily, come, sit back down.” His tone was warm and inviting, but I refused to be swayed.
“I demand to know,” I told him, keeping my voice as strong as I couldmanage.
“Ah, I see. And who commands me? Is it Cecily, Duchess of Hohenzollern, or the frightened widow I saw only moments ago?”
“I suppose… I suppose if what you say is true, those people are one in the same.” I did not turn back to look at him and there was a silence that seemed to stretch on forever as Antony let my words hang in the air between us.
“No, my lady,” he answered at last, “I was not there to steal the horses. I was sent as a scout for the Holy Roman Empire. I was to report back and tell my findings on whatever I could spot. How many horses, for example, the condition of the armory.”
When I turned to him, moving so slowly that I hardly moved at all, all the blood had drained from my face. “You… you are my enemy.”
“You have always thought it so,” Antony replied levelly. “Why should learning this make you look at me in such a manner?”
Yes, indeed—why? I didn’t know the answer to that, and my head was spinning with the new information, so much so that I didn’t know what to think. “How dare you?” I managed at last, my voice as soft and fragile as a whisper. “You…”
“I what?”
You made me think—even if it was just for a moment—that you cared for me,I answered silently. I didn’t even know when I’d begun to think so. Perhaps I hadn’t until right that very moment, but the realization was followed by a swifter one: that no matter what he’d said, what reassurances he’d given, everything he’d said had been a lie. “Never mind. I’m tired. Are we going to ride on or stop for the day?” I could feel his eyes on me, appraising, but I could not bring myself to meet them.
“Cecily—”
My head snapped up and I regarded him with an icy glare. “Do not call me that. Only a friend can call me by my given name, and you, sir, are no friend of mine.”
