Once again she felt a mailed fist closing around her heart. If she was the devil’s mistress, then was Thomas Blackstone his ill-begotten son? Did the Englishman have powers she had not bargained on? If he saw into her mind and heart, he would kill her and her prophecy would evaporate like campfire smoke into the night air. The devil only embraced those who did his bidding and succeeded in doing it.

He smiled again. ‘After we have made love.’

Relief made her laugh.

‘But first I must bathe.’

She placed a hand on his arm. ‘There is no need.’

*

Lázaro reported to Beyard that one of the King’s servants had questioned him. It had not happened at Burgos and no one had approached him on the journey. He assured Beyard that he had given the name Tello as had been agreed should any stranger ask.

‘Then why now?’ Beyard said when he told Killbere.

‘He’s been noticed by someone close to the King. It might have been innocent but we treat it otherwise,’ said Killbere. ‘The lad gave the false name and story as we told him?’

‘He did.’

‘Does his nerve hold?’

‘He’s been with us long enough to grow strong. It’s second nature for him to be on his guard.’ Beyard looked at the men settling down for the night. ‘A servant talked to another servant – I don’t think there’s any danger. If there is they will seek him out once it’s dark. They’ll send more than one man to take him if they suspect anything.’

‘Then we do nothing to draw suspicion. Carry on as usual. Keep him close. Warn your men someone was asking questions. I’ll have Meulon and Renfred bring their men nearer to where you sleep.’

‘Will you tell Sir Thomas they questioned the lad?’

‘In good time. He’s busy.’

*

A trickle of sweat crept down into the hollow of Velasquita’s throat. Her skin, flushed with exertion and passion, welcomed the cool night breeze. She steadied her breathing, widening her eyes to focus on where she was, and then turned her head to where Blackstone lay on his side facing her. Her thumping heartbeat dislodged the pool of sweat, nudging it to trickle into the cleft of her breasts. Her loss of control from his lovemaking had once again alarmed her. Those final moments when passion cast her into a small death-like place, where she was aware of nothing except the acute spasm of her body which heightened the pleasure and lifted her from the living world. The lapping warmth of her emotions blunted her usually acute senses.