“Am I still?”
His brow furrowed. “What would make you think that you are not?”
She put the needlework in her lap. “Must everything with you be so evasive? Do you realize that you have answered almost all of my questions with another question?”
“Have I?”
She growled in frustration and he chuckled softly. “’Tis not my intention to be evasive, my lady. But the answers you seek to your questions are ones that you can just as easily answer yourself.”
Her gaze locked with his. A strange heat filled the space between them, a warmth that bloomed in her chest and spread outward into her arms and legs and fingers. Everything was tingling. The longer she looked at him, the stronger the warmth became.
“You are perhaps correct in some respects,” she said softly. “But there are times when I would like an answer from your own lips.”
He felt the heat, too. He was positively melting the longer he looked at her. “As you wish, my lady. What answer would you like to hear?”
She could not have pulled away from his gaze if she tried. She didn’t want to try. But she could not have assumptions and conjecture between them.
“I would have total truth between us, Sir Sean,” she said softly. “I expect nothing less and will accept nothing more. If I ask you a question, will you answer me honestly?”
“I will.”
“Do you know what was transpiring in my apartment the night you brought Alys back to me?”
“Aye.”
He didn’t hesitate with his answer. Her heart leapt into her throat, thinking of all the men who were undoubtedly in danger. “Did you tell the king?”
“You said only one question.”
Frustrated, she stood up and the needlework fell to the ground. “Do you have any idea how horrible it has been for me, knowing you saw all of those men in my apartment and knowing that because of me, their very lives are at stake? They’re terrified and suspicious, and I do not blame them. And it is my fault!”
He stood up, too. Taking her hand, the one she had poked, he tucked it in to the crook of his elbow.
“Walk with me,” he commanded quietly.
Dumbly, she obeyed. Sean walked her over to the wall, west of the Flint Tower. It was cool in the shadows, out of the view of most. Slowly, they paced the dirt as it stretched along the enormous expanse of masonry.
“As you said when we first met, you and I could be considered enemies,” his voice was low, guarded. “If I chose to believe that, it would be easy. You have made it easy for me.”
“I am not your enemy,” she replied. “But I do not hold the same loyalties as you.”
“Loyalties are perception. They are not always truth.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means that you should not believe everything you see or everything you are told.” He came to a stop and faced her, his eyes scanning the walls before focusing on her. “I will say this once and then speak no more of it. You are a young, naïve kitten caught up in a game played by ferocious lions. They will eat you if you are not careful. Your father was a lion like the rest ofthem and knew the game well. I cannot believe he has left you so defenseless in this den of animals.”
She could sense concern in his voice. “What do you mean?”
He grasped her gently by the arms. “What I mean is that you must get out while you can. Take Alys and go home. I will come for you when I am able.”
She lifted an eyebrow. “Do you know something that I do not? Are we in danger?”
“You have fifteen hundred men within a two hour march of London.”
She struggled not to react. “Who told you that?”
“It is my duty to know that and more.”