Free A Dangerous Love by Bertrice Small

surely do not want to leave behind your possessions, my precious. I will need time to pack for us.”
    “Nay. Leave everything. I do not want it!” Adair cried.
    “We will need coin to ease our way,” Elsbeth advised.
    “I have enough coin to get us north. The bulk of my small fortune is with the Jew in Goldsmith’s Lane. I can draw on it from anywhere,” Adair replied.
    “Half the day is gone,” Elsbeth said. “Let us go on the morrow.”
    “It is just past the noon hour,” Adair responded. “It is June. The day is long. I would go now, Nursie. Now!”
    “Very well,” Elsbeth answered her. “Tell me what to do.”
    “Go to the stables and have our horses saddled. I will go to my chamber and collect our cloaks and the coins from where I’ve hidden them,” Adair told the woman.
    Then, turning, she hurried out of the hall.
    Elsbeth sighed. This was, she decided, a very foolish move on Adair’s part. But she owed her loyalty to Stanton, and Adair was the Countess of Stanton. Then she thought to herself that they would be caught by the king’s men on the morrow for certain. “Come along, Beiste,”
    she called to the dog by the fire. “We’re going home.”
    In the small chamber that she shared with Elizabeth, Adair went to the hearth and, reaching into it, pulled a little block of stone out of the back of the cold fireplace, setting it on the floor. Reaching into the dark cavity she drew out a pouch of coins. Lifting her skirts she tied the pouch strings to the drawstring on her camise. Then, replacing the stone, she took their cloaks and ran from the room.
    Elsbeth and Beiste were waiting with their horses in the stable yard. “Do we need a groom to go with us, my lady?” Elsbeth asked innocently.
    “Nay, we are just riding down into the town,” Adair told the stableman as he boosted her into the saddle.
    “There be a fair in Windsor today, my lady. Beware of the Gypsies,” the stableman advised.
    “Oh, thank you, we will,” Adair responded.
    The two women rode out from Windsor Castle, the great wolfhound loping along by their side. Out of sight of the guards they turned onto the road north, and put their horses into a canter. Adair never looked back, and for the first time in ten years she realized that she was truly happy. Happy and free of the king’s house. Free of the barely concealed scorn of certain courtiers. It wasn’t that anyone had been unkind to her. They hadn’t. She rarely saw the king. The queen was happy to bear children for the king, but hardly interested in them afterward.
    Adair’s world had consisted of Lady Margaret Beaufort, Elsbeth, and her half siblings. They had lived an orderly and quiet life. The boys were prepared to rule, and the girls were prepared to marry. But it had come too soon to suit Adair. Why should she be married before Elizabeth, who was six months her senior? And to someone she didn’t even know, had never heard about until today? No! She would not marry Llywelyn FitzTudor. And when they discovered she was gone that would be an end to it.
    But Lady Margaret Beaufort had been laid low with a wretched summer flu. And the Princesses Elizabeth, Mary, and Cicely were off visiting their paternal grandmother, Cicely Neville, who was known as Proud Cis.
    And because Elsbeth took care of Adair, there was no one to take note of the fact that the Countess of Stanton was among the missing. It was several days before anyone realized it and brought it to Lady Margaret’s attention.

    Lady Margaret arose from her sickbed and sought out the queen. “Your Highness, Adair Radcliffe has gone missing,” she said.
    Elizabeth Woodville looked annoyed at this news.
    “Missing?” she said. “What do you mean by missing?”
    “She has not been seen for several days; nor has her servant, Elsbeth. They are nowhere to be found in the castle, Your Highness,” Lady Margaret answered.
    The queen looked even more annoyed. It had been a lovely summer so far. Her three oldest