Free Kissed by Shadows by Jane Feather

standing with uncharacteristic irresolution just inside the doorway. For the moment he made no attempt to join any of the groups made up of his acquaintances, friends, and closest cronies. His eyes were on the musicians.
    Lionel paused beside him, a frown in his eye. Stuart was a poor dissembler and soon his obvious distress would cause questions and remark. He said cheerfully, “Lady Nielson is not joining the court this evening?”
    A muscle twitched in Stuart's cheek. His eyes darted to where the king with his councillors stood across the chamber. “I thought it was agreed—”
    “Yes . . . yes, it is agreed,” Lionel interrupted, lowering his voice even as he kept a congenial smile on his face. “I merely made polite inquiry.”
    He lightly patted the other's arm, saying with deceptive gentleness, “Take my advice, my lord, and strive for a little more relaxation. After this afternoon's debacle you would not wish to draw any more unwelcome attention.”
    He paused, then continued in more pointed tones, “I would suggest you have a care where you direct your eyes also.”
    Stuart heard only the deepest contempt in Ashton's voice. He knew it was deserved and the knowledge made it all the more unbearable. His hand went to his sword hilt.
    “No . . . no, my friend.” Lionel shook his head, laying a hand once more on Stuart's arm. “The advice is good, heed it. Had you had more of a care in the past, I doubt you would be in your present situation. You, or your wife.” He dropped his hand and left the chamber.
    Stuart fought the surge of helpless rage that threatened to consume him. Ashton was right. Somewhere, somehow he had made the mistake that had him now caught in the teeth of the most vicious mantrap. He had been careless, slipped with a word or a look. He would never know how Simon Renard had learned his secret, but those who watched him as they watched everyone in this treacherous court had seen what they could use to their advantage.
    With effortful determination he looked around the chamber, selected a group, and went to join them. He managed to smile, to offer the occasional contribution to the conversation, but as he lounged seemingly at his ease on a thick cushion his mind struggled with possible solutions to an impossible situation.
    They would not let him go now, he knew that. If he had made a stand at the very beginning, defied them to do their worst, then perhaps it would have been different. But the consequences would have been hideous and he had chosen to believe that they would have done what they said. He had ample reason to believe that they would. And now whether they achieved their objective or not, he knew too much. He was far too dangerous for them to let him alone, to let him go his way after he'd helped them. They would either find some other use for him, or they would kill him.
    But what about Pippa? If she failed them would they give up and let her alone? Turn their attention to some other young wife? She knew nothing, she was no threat to them. But if their plan succeeded, would they leave her unmolested when it was all over? They had promised they would, but what price the promises of such men?
    And Gabriel? Was he safe? He knew nothing. As long as Stuart kept his end of the bargain, continued to be compliant, then surely Gabriel was safe.
    He looked up then and across at the musicians. For a moment, the lyre player raised his own eyes as if drawn by Stuart's gaze. Their eyes met, then Gabriel lowered his to his instrument, and Stuart, sick and trembling with an overpowering terror for what he'd done, for what he'd not done, for what was going to happen, for the whole viper's nest in which he thrashed around, got to his feet and left the chamber trying not to run.
    He had to get out of the palace. If he were dead, would everyone else be safe? It was not the first time the thought had come to him, but it was stronger this time than ever before.
    The dagger to his throat, poison, the