Read Kissed by Shadows for Free Online

wouldn't do for Stuart to outshine His Majesty before his wife and the entire court,” Pippa murmured sardonically, her derision barely concealed.
    Robin frowned, his eyes on the bout. Stuart made a very clumsy pass with his cane and Philip wheeled his horse and brought his own stick to crack against his opponent's. Stuart's weapon split in two.
    “I think your husband carries his diplomacy too far,” Robin declared. “He's not even trying to give Philip a match.”
    “No,” agreed Pippa, frowning now in her turn. “He seems to spend more time in the company of the Spaniards these days than that of his own people. Have you noticed?”
    “Aye.” Robin nodded. He was about to say how he'd also noticed that Stuart was curiously and distastefully deferential and ill at ease even with the most peacocking of the Spanish courtiers, but decided to hold his tongue. He would not criticize Pippa's husband to her.
    The two jousters clashed again and this time Stuart's cane hit true and the king's flew to the ground. Robin drew a deep breath. He glanced up to where the queen sat. She was still leaning forward on her chair, her eyes now concerned as they rested on her husband. He could not be made to look bad among this already hostile crowd.
    But there was no fear of that. Stuart lost the next two bouts, his cane split resoundingly on both occasions. There was wild cheering from the Spaniards and a sullen silence from the English as the two contestants rode over to the stands to make their bows to the queen.
    Pippa scrutinized her husband's countenance. It was expressionless, pale, his eyes hooded, his full mouth set. He looked at her just once and she could feel the embarrassment and anger radiating from him in great waves. And she felt too that some of that anger was directed at her. But how could she be to blame for his deliberate decision to allow Philip of Spain to humiliate him? She gave him a consoling smile and he turned his shoulder to her.
    “I don't understand it,” Robin said. “He could let Philip win if he felt he
had
to, but not so completely.”
    “You forget how very good at jousting Stuart is,” Pippa said thoughtfully. “I suspect it's harder to lose by a hair if you're very good.”
    Robin didn't agree but once again kept his reflections to himself.
    “I think I've had enough,” Pippa said. “Having seen my husband soundly defeated by the king, I should think I would be permitted to leave, don't you?” Irony laced her voice as she glanced back up at the queen.
    “I'll escort you,” Robin said. “You're very pale, more so than usual. All your freckles are standing out.”
    “I can always rely on you to tell me the most unflattering truths, brother dear,” Pippa stated, rising to her feet. “But have no fear, 'tis just the heat. Stay and enjoy the next spectacle. Two teams are to match canes, as I understand it. Such excitement!”
    She gave him a smile that held a smidgeon of her usual mischievous spirit and he was sufficiently reassured not to insist on escorting her. He waved in acknowledgment and took her vacated seat on the bench.
    Pippa, realizing that Mary was watching her departure, curtsied deeply and received a haughty nod of dismissal in response. Relieved, she slid past the rows of spectators and made her escape. Heralds' trumpets sounded behind her as she walked through the narrow entrance to the lists and into the relative quiet of a sun-filled cloistered courtyard.
    A man stood in the center of the courtyard, leaning against the sundial, idly cleaning his fingernails with the tip of his dagger.
    Lionel Ashton.
    Pippa's step quite uncharacteristically faltered. Then she moved backwards into the shadows of the cloister and stood motionless, trying to untangle the skein of conflicting emotions that held her fast as a fly in a spider's web. She couldn't take her eyes off the man. He had discarded his cloak and wore only doublet and shirt open at the neck as it had been that morning,