.
options, especially if Henry truly intended to give Philip’s protector authority over her, too. Running away might be the coward’s way out, but rather a free coward than Wilmont’s prisoner.
Philip groaned and pulled a long face, but he picked up his pack. “You gave away Oscar’s mule. How will we carry everything? Where are we going?”
She had no notion of where they would go. For now, beyond the city limits and into the countryside would suffice. By the time anyone realized they were gone, she and Philip would be well out of reach.
“We will find somewhere to stay the night, mayhap another abbey,” she said, then pulled, pushed, and cajoled Philip through the abbey’s passageways.
She broke into the sunshine of the yard, turned the corner of the building nearest the road—and came chest-to-chest with Richard of Wilmont.
Lucinda stumbled and almost dropped her pack. Richard grabbed her upper arms to steady her.
His hands were large and warm, his grip firm but not hurtful. Even as she cursed her ill luck, her body heated to Richard’s touch as it had on the road. ’Twas disconcerting, this thrill along her spine at the touch of a man, especially a man as large and powerful as Richard. She should be repulsed, as she’d been every time Basil had touched her. She should tremble with fear, not attraction!
He glanced down at her pack, then over at Philip. He didn’t say anything, just raised a questioning eyebrow.
“I thought it best if Philip and I left,” she said, hoping he would understand. She expected him to let her go and allow them to leave. He didn’t.
“Where would you go?” he asked.
“Away. Far away.”
“’Twould do no good to leave. Henry would order me to find you and bring you back.”
“You could say you could not find us,” she offered.
“Henry would know better.”
She couldn’t think while this close to Richard. She took a step back; he released his grip.
“Certes, you do not want us,” she said, her thoughts becoming clearer. “I should think you would be relieved that we go our separate ways.”
He crossed his arms. “You are correct, Lucinda. I do not like Henry’s edict, but neither can I let you leave.”
Lucinda felt a tug on her skirt. “Mother?”
She was certainly making a mess of her escape. Of course, if Richard hadn’t happened along to waylay her, she and Philip would be well away by now. Or had he just happened along? Had he been coming to see her?
Richard bent down and grabbed Philip’s pack. “Come,” he said, placing a hand at her elbow. He gave a slight push in the direction of the palace. She stood firmly in place.
“Where do we go?”
“To Wilmont chambers. ’Tis private there so we can talk. There must be some way to solve this dilemma without putting any of us at risk.”
“Such as?”
“I do not know yet, but putting you and the boy in jeopardy is not an answer.”
Richard watched Lucinda’s ire melt into resignation. If forced to, he’d have dragged her kicking and screaming to the palace. He couldn’t let her flee, no matter how much she wanted to leave and he wanted to let her go. Henry would be furious, and Wilmont’s standing at court couldn’t sustain another blow without suffering severe damage.
When next Richard pushed at her elbow, Lucinda turned and started toward the palace. Philip silently followed in their wake.
Richard really couldn’t blame Lucinda for attempting an escape. In her position, about to be placed under control of one whom she considered an enemy, he might have tried the same thing. Then why was he angry that she tried to leave? It made no sense, but then all his reactions to Lucinda made no sense.
He’d thought all desire for her dead—until the moment he touched her again, until he’d stared into the depths of her violet eyes and found determination mixed with fear.
Richard ushered them into Wilmont’s chambers and tossed Philip’s pack in the corner near the brazier. Stephen had left for who knew where. Lucinda and Philip stood in the doorway, but neither seemed sure of what to do next.
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