Maid of Deception Read Online Free Page B

out an indiscretion among any of her court, her wrath was swift and sure. Ladies were sent packing home, and gentlemen fell out of her favor, or were married off to the first plain-faced, simpering fool the Queen could find.
    “Then you will note that I will not make an exception in your case,” the Queen continued repressively. “You are not yet married to Lord Cavanaugh, and you will conduct yourself in his presence with the ultimate care of a chaste and godly maiden. Do I make myself clear?”
    “Completely,” I said, the word just shy of a snap. Beside me Cecil and Walsingham stirred restlessly, but the Queen did not seem to notice.
    “Good.” She nodded, a small smile playing around her lips. Instantly I tensed. I’d thought with these intrusive comments on my personal life, she’d finished with the worst part of this conversation. But I knew that smile. The Queen was a conniving witch when she wanted to be, and her aspect of delicious anticipation never boded well.
    I did not have to wait long to know what amused her so.
    “I have a new assignment for you, as it happens. Onewhich, I’m sure you’ll see, requires you to be unmarried, undistracted, and in full command of your . . . charms. In this assignment, should you have a need to appear less than chaste, well—I would be more lenient.”
    I could not avoid the flaring of my eyes. “An assignment?” I managed. The Queen noted my confusion and took ultimate delight in it, her eyes going even brighter.
    “Yes,” she said triumphantly. “We are given to understand that the Scottish rebellion continues to gain ground against the hated French, and that outright conflict is not long off. And here, in our very midst, we have more than a dozen Scotsmen milling about. They beg for my intercession, but can I truly trust them? Their country is so steeped in Catholicism, how can I truly know their loyalties to a Protestant Queen?”
    I frowned at her. “Forgive me, Your Majesty, but the members of the Scottish delegation have already pledged their allegiance to you in bold and overlong manner.” To a man the Scots had been loud in their praise of the new English Queen. “They could hardly do otherwise if they wanted to gain your assistance, and they clearly want the French at their threshold even less than you do. I cannot see how they would be false in this.”
    “Talk is meaningless with so much at stake. I would know their hearts.” The Queen was serious, I realized. She did want to know more about the Scots. I supposed it made sense, though I would rather not have been the one thrown at the delegation to learn their secrets. Still, I could be accommodating.
    “Very well, Your Grace,” I said. “I am happy to associate more closely with the delegation—”
    “No.” And now Elizabeth’s edge of malice returned, all the more alarming for its swiftness. “It is not the delegation as a whole that concerns me but one member in particular of their group. There is just something about him that I find . . . intriguing.”
    “One member—” I frowned at her, bemused, and then the reality of what she was asking smote me so hard in the face that even I lost my composure. “Oh, Your Grace, you cannot mean it!”
    “And yet I do.” She trilled off the words, exultant that she had made me flinch. “You will attach yourself quite completely to the young Alasdair MacLeod, draw him out in that way I have seen you draw out men of the court since you were barely seven years old, and gain the secrets of his holding and his people. MacLeod plays to our perceptions that he is an inconsequential part of that rabble, but the others clearly look to him for guidance. We can use that to our advantage.”
    “But—” I swallowed my own words. MacLeod did have the ear of his men, but of course he would. He was the biggest. And the loudest. That did not mean he was the smartest.
    “I wish to know what confidences his men are sharing with him,” Elizabeth