The Order of the Lily by Catherine A. Wilson Read Free Book Online Page B

this.’
    Tariq regarded her sternly. ‘Your sister’s health is fragile, as I informed her. But yours will be no less so when the Prince learns his heir is nothing more than goose feathers, Mademoiselle.’
    Catherine leaned back against the pillow and winced as she moved her arm. ‘In truth, I gave it no thought. I had but a moment to make my decision and my sister had no choice in the matter.’ She blinked up at him, her blue eyes wide. ‘I could not let him take her again. She would not survive. Please,’ she begged, grasping his hand, ‘Will you not help me?’
    Tariq smoothed his pointed beard. ‘You place me in a difficult position, Lady Catherine.’
    â€˜I am sure Lord Wexford will come for me. The Prince must not find out that Cécile is in England. Please, Tariq,’ she whispered softly, ‘will you not help us?’
    â€˜I will be at great risk to do so but I am not unsympathetic to the situation and I spoke at length with Monsieur Gillet.’
    â€˜Gillet must be told that I am not Céci or else he will never leave for Kent. And, most important,’ she grabbed his sleeve, ‘he must learn that my sister loves him still.’
    Tariq collected the small pillow and paused. ‘With that much I can help you for I must tend his wounds daily. But even if he is released tomorrow, he will not be well enough to travel for at least a week. How do you suppose to keep the Prince at bay?’
    â€˜I do not know. Deception is not an art I practise well,’ sighed Catherine.
    â€˜I am bound by oath to save lives,’ said Tariq, considering the bolster in his hand. ‘But all too often we lose one.’ His sharp eyes lit up and fixed upon the woman in the bed. ‘Might I suggest, Lady Catherine, that your fall may yet have a most serious consequence. Under such circumstances I would suggest that the mother-to-be requires rest, lest any further harm come to her unborn child. No visitors but for the daily attendance of her physician.’ He smiled conspiratorially.
    Catherine stared at Tariq, her voice falling to a whisper. ‘It would keep the Prince from my bed for now, but I am sure Salisbury suspects the truth. What are we to do if he chooses to share his suspicions?’
    The man before her bowed. ‘My daughter, to reach an oasis first you must tread across the hot sands of the desert. To succeed, you must have faith. Perhaps together we shall take one step at a time? For now we must ensure his Grace does not discover the difference between twins.’

    In the privacy of her chamber, Catherine breathed a sigh of relief and sent a hurried prayer of thanks for her surprising salvation – a dark-skinned heathen sent by God. Disorientated, she examined the length of shadow on the floor. Her shoulder ached with renewed discomfort and, unable to look directly into the bright sunlight, she rolled tentatively towards the stone wall.
    Tariq’s plan was brilliant. The Black Prince would not invade the sanctuary of her bed if he believed her in danger of suffering a miscarriage. It was almost sufficient reason to thank Salisbury for his intervention, if not for the injuries she had sustained. Simon would not be expecting such an obstacle. She had to recover, and quickly, for surely Simon would not leave her unprotected for too long.

By dawn the Albret manor house was shrouded in a deathly silence. Behind her door, Cécile was frantic for news. Veronique had not returned nor had Cécile heard the tell-tale jingle of harness as horses were being saddled. Her staunch vigilance upon the stable, visible from her casement, had been in vain. Either the captain, Alfred, had chosen to ignore her request or else Veronique had not delivered the message. Unable yet to face whatever lay outside her door, Cécile curled up on the bed, weary beyond words. She could shed no more tears. Margot’s screaming had ceased but no wail of a