He understood what she meant. He had been wrestling with the same thing for days. “And when I look at you, I am willing to forget everything I have worked for, everything that I am, just for the chance to spend the rest of my life with you.”
She smiled ironically. “What a pair we make.”
“Indeed.”
“But is it right? I mean, is what we desire the right thing to do? We both risk so very much.”
“I would risk my life for a chance to be with you, however small.”
She put her hand to his cheek and he clapped a massive hand over hers, holding her warm flesh against his. There was tremendous sense of longing in that sweet, brief touch.
“As sudden and irrational as it seems, I would as well,” she murmured. “But I have so much more to consider than just myself. There’s Alys. There are my family’s holdings. When you demanded marriage of me, I…”
“Demand? Did you say demand?”
“Aye, demand,” she lifted an insistent eyebrow at him. He grinned, and so did she. “I did not think of anything other than myself. Now I am forced to think of everything other than myself.”
“Are you saying that you would rather marry de Braose?”
“Nay,” she shook her head. “I would rather marry you. But I am not sure if it is the right thing to do.”
He sighed, his gaze moving across the doorway, out into the yard, back into the corridor, finally falling on Guy and Alys. After a moment, he refocused on Sheridan.
“I have only known you days,” he said quietly. “But in order to answer your question, I must trust you. Trust is not easily given, not in my profession. What I tell you must never leave your lips. If it does, I will die. Is this understood?”
He was serious. She nodded her head. “Aye.”
He took a deep breath. It was difficult for him. “I am not what you think.”
“What do you mean?”
“Allied to the king, part and parcel to his madness. My position with him is well calculated.”
She still didn’t understand. “I am not sure….”
“I am a spy, Sheridan.”
It took a moment for the implication to sink in. Her eyes widened. “You… you spy for…?”
“For William Marshall. I have for almost thirteen years.”
Her hand flew to her mouth, covering the big “O” that had formed. “Sean,” the hand came down so she could speak. “What are you telling me?”
He grabbed her by both arms, his grip firm and warm and powerful. “I am telling you that my true title is Viscount Trestylan. I have lands and holdings in the Welsh Marches that my family has held before the Norman conquest. But my devotion to my country is so great that I would risk everything to help the resistance against the tyrannical king, as my father did before me. I chose to become a hated man because it is better to be at the right hand of the Devil than in his path. Most of the information you and your allies have been fed has come directly from me. I know all, see all. But in order to maintain the illusion, I have been forced into some unsavory choices and actions. I am, therefore, very much an ally to the House of St. James. When you marry me, you will indeed marry a collaborator. Only no one can know about my true loyalties until John is unseated and we have a new king upon the throne.”
Her mouth was back to forming the astonished “O”. The expression on her face was something he would remember for the rest of his life.
“My God,” she breathed. “Is it true?”
“I swear upon my honor.”
“That explains why you lied to the king about the assembly of nobles you saw in my apartment that night. And it also explains why you saved Alys from his lust.”
“I saved Alys from him because I did not want you to be hurt. Had Alys been any one of the hundreds of other women passingthrough the king’s bed, I would have let him have his way with her. I would not have risked myself.”
Her hands threaded themselves around his fingers, tightening. “It… it is so difficult to believe all of this.”
“As it should be. I have worked hard to establish my reputation.”
