Anne’s throat dried. ‘Release me,’ she whispered. ‘I do not trust you.’

‘I know.’ Simon’s firm mouth curved into a smile. ‘You are wise to trust no one.’

He let her go slowly and Anne stepped back. Her heart was pounding hard and her legs trembled. She caught the back of a chair to steady herself and prayed that Simon believed her weakness stemmed from fear rather than susceptibility to his touch. She raised her eyes to meet his mocking gaze.

‘What would you like to talk about?’ he asked. His gaze raked her, as it had done earlier. ‘You know that you have nothing to negotiate with.’ He paused. ‘At the least, I assume you do not intend to try and bribe me with your body…’

Anne gave him a scornful look. Her fingers tightened on the chair back. There, beneath her hand was the sword belt. A plan was forming in her head. She prayed that she could carry it off. She had to keep him talking, distract him…

‘You are contemptible,’ she said.

‘And you are helpless.’ He looked rather amused.

Anne glared. ‘That is not correct, of course,’ she said. ‘I have plenty of advantages. I know the lie of the land of Grafton, I know its weaknesses and I know Malvoisier’s plans. I could even give you safe passage into the Manor were I minded to do so.’

Simon’s gaze had narrowed on her face. ‘But you would not do that,’ he said. ‘You would never betray your cause.’

‘No,’ Anne agreed bitterly. ‘Everything I have done tonight has been to save Grafton. I do not sell my honour cheap.’

Simon smiled ironically. ‘Touché, my lady.’ He made a slight gesture. ‘But since you are not prepared to sell either your principles or yourself, you have nothing with which to barter.’

‘I do not intend to barter,’ Anne said. ‘I intend to make you let me go.’

Simon folded his arms. He was smiling. It was all the extra incentive Anne needed.

‘How will you achieve that?’ he enquired.

In response Anne grabbed the hilt of the sword. It came free of the scabbard with a satisfying hiss of metal. She spun around. Simon had already started to move towards her, but he was too late. As he took the final step she brought the tip of the blade up to rest against his throat like a lover’s caress. Simon stopped abruptly.

‘Like this,’ Anne said breathlessly.

The smile in Simon’s eyes deepened into something like admiration.

‘I cannot believe,’ he said, ‘that I was so careless.’

‘Well,’ Anne said. ‘You were.’

‘Please be careful,’ Simon said. ‘I sharpened the sword myself, this very night. It is very dangerous.’

‘Good,’ Anne said. She knew that he was using her own tactics now, keeping her talking to try and distract her. It was hideously dangerous to point a sword at a trained soldier, particularly one as experienced as Simon Greville. One second’s loss of concentration and he would disarm her. He would be quick and ruthless. She kept her gaze fixed on the sword’s point and did not look into his eyes.

‘I have your life to barter with now, Lord Greville,’ she said. ‘Mine for yours. It is a fair exchange. Step away from the door. Slowly.’

Simon did as she ordered. Anne started to edge towards the door, still keeping the murderous weapon levelled at him. She did not want to have to kill him, but she did know exactly how to use it. The Earl of Grafton had never had a son, but he had certainly taught his daughter how to defend herself.

‘Put up the blade,’ Simon said. He raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. ‘I will let you go.’

Anne laughed. ‘You will let me go? You think that I believe you, after all that you have done? Nor do I need your permission to leave, my lord. I am the one holding the sword.’

Simon nodded. ‘I acknowledge that. But you would not get five yards without my men capturing you. I demand parley. Put up the sword and declare a truce.’

Anne met his eyes briefly. It was a mistake. There was such a look of ruthless determination in them that she almost quailed. She dropped her gaze once more to the shining blade.

‘Malvoisier did not respect the rules of parley,’ she said. ‘Why should you—or I?’

Simon did not move. ‘You are not Malvoisier and neither am I, Lady Anne. Put up the sword and talk to me.’

There were rules of engagement. He knew it. She knew it. The fact that Gerard Malvoisier had no honour should not, Anne knew, bring her down to his level. She did not want to stay a moment longer and speak with Simon Greville. She did not trust him. But she had a code of honour and he had appealed to it.

‘If I agree to parley and then you betray me,’ she said, ‘I will kill you.’

Simon nodded. He was not smiling now, but the respect was still in his eyes. ‘That,’ he said, ‘is understood.’

Anne retreated until her back was against the door and then she lowered the sword until the tip was resting on the ground. She turned it thoughtfully in her hands, examining the balance of it. It had a long blade and a beautifully curved hilt.

‘It is a fine weapon,’ she said. ‘A cavalryman’s sword.’

‘It was my father’s.’ Simon rubbed his brow. ‘He gave me his sword and now I use it to fight for his enemy.’

Anne’s heart contracted to hear the pain in his voice. It would be easy to accuse Simon Greville of having no integrity and selling out the Royalist cause of his father, yet she knew that countless men had had to make the decision to put their honour and principles before their family. They were fighting for what they believed to be right. The King had raised an army against his own Parliament and even she, for all her allegiance, could see that there were those who felt that Charles had betrayed his people.

‘I am sorry,’ she said softly.

Simon shifted slightly. ‘It may be sentimental in me, but I would like to take that sword back from you, Lady Anne.’

Anne nodded. ‘I imagine that you would.’

Simon’s hand moved towards the pocket of his coat and Anne suddenly remembered that he had put her knife there. She raised the sword point to his chest and he stopped.

‘Not so fast, Lord Greville.’

‘I beg your pardon.’ Simon said. ‘I merely wanted to give you back your knife in case you hold it of similar worth.’

Anne felt the treacherous tears sting her eyes. She valued each and every thing that her father had ever given her, material or otherwise, and as he grew steadily weaker so the desperation in her grew steadily more acute. Soon he would be dead and she would have nothing of him left to hold on to but the example of his allegiance to the King and his loyalty to the people of Grafton. She had come to Simon’s quarters that night because she knew it was what her father would have done. He would have put the welfare of his people first, before pride or military conquest.

She blinked back the weak tears. ‘Put the knife on the table,’ she said, a little huskily. ‘Do it slowly. Do not come any closer.’

‘I will not make that mistake,’ Simon agreed.

Anne watched as he slipped a hand into his pocket and extracted the dagger, placing it carefully on the table between their two empty wine glasses. When he let his hands fall to his side and stepped back, she let out the breath she had been holding.

‘Good. So…’ She made her tone a match for his earlier. ‘You asked for parley. What would you like to discuss?’

Simon rubbed his brow. ‘There is nothing to discuss,’ he said. ‘I promised that I would not play you false. You are free to go.’

Once again the hope flared in Anne’s heart, but this time she was more wary.

‘What are you saying?’ she whispered.

Simon gestured fiercely towards the door. ‘I am telling you to leave. Go back to Grafton Manor. You came here to negotiate and I will not accept your terms. I have changed my mind about exchanging you for Henry. It will not serve. So there is nothing more to say.’

Anne did not move immediately. She felt bemused by this sudden change of heart. If Simon were to let her go now, what was to become of Henry? Malvoisier would still have him hostage and Simon would have nothing with which to bargain.