Spring romance at the ca.., p.58
Spring Romance at the Castle, page 58
Percival shrugged his shoulders. “I went to her chamber but Lady Willow told me Morag wasn’t coming down for the meal.”
“Why? What’s wrong?” he asked in alarm. “Is she ill?”
“Nay, I don’t think so,” said Percival, reaching over the high table on the raised dais to grab a sweetmeat from the tray. He popped it into his mouth as he spoke. “She looked fine to me. She was standing by the fire, pacing back and forth.”
“I need to talk to her,” he whispered. “I cannot wait another minute.” Bedivere stood up, not waiting for the next course to be served. It was imperative he speak to Morag and he didn’t like the way she’d been ignoring him. She had to already know his secret.
“Sir Bedivere, leaving so soon?” Lord Whitmore leaned over from the other end of the table to see him.
“I have something I need to do,” Bedivere made the excuse.
“Well, then, Lord Rook, I guess I’ll have to keep you company for a while.”
Bedivere stopped in his tracks when he heard Lord Whitmore say this.
“Thank you, Lord Whitmore, I’d like that,” replied Rook. “Mayhap, we can get to know each other better.” Rook tucked a long strand of black hair behind his ear and reached over for more roasted goose.
Bedivere groaned inwardly and sat back down. There was no way he could leave now. If he did, Rook could be dead before he returned.
Morag stared out the open window, lost in her thoughts, disturbed when there was a knock at the door.
“You really should have a handmaid for things like this,” said Willow, waddling across the floor and pulling open the door. “Sir Bedivere,” she said.
Morag’s heart jumped when she saw Bedivere standing at the door. He looked at her from across the room and the pain in his eyes almost broke Morag’s heart.
“I need to talk to Morag.”
Morag nodded silently to Willow to let him in. Bedivere stepped inside and glanced down at Willow. “Alone, if you please.”
After Morag gave her cousin another nod, Willow answered. “Of course,” she said, glancing nervously back at Morag before heading out the door.
Bedivere stepped inside and closed the door, bolting it behind him. His action scared her, and she now wondered if he had come to kill her. As he made his way toward her, she backed up to the window.
“Dinna touch me or I’ll scream,” she warned him.
He stopped and scowled at her. “I have been trying to talk to you for days and I only bolted the door because I don’t want to be interrupted again.”
“Please, dinna kill me.”
“Kill you?” His eyebrows dipped and he shook his head. “I see Willow spilled my secret after all. It seems no one in your family can keep their mouth shut.”
“If I would have kent ye were a blood-thirsty killer, I never would have let ye near me,” she spat, gripping the sill of the window behind her.
“Morag, I admit, I am an assassin, but you need to give me a chance to explain.” He took another step toward her.
“Nay!” She held up a halting hand. “Ye led me on and even took my virginity. How could ye do that? Ye fooled me, and I believed ye really loved me.”
His expression turned dour and she saw despair wash across his face. “I do love you,” he said in a low voice.
“Nay! Ye are just sayin’ that because ye want somethin’ from me.”
“All I want is for you to hear me out.”
“I canna believe I let ye –”
Her words were cut off as Bedivere reached out, pulling her into his arms and kissing her so passionately that, for a moment, she forgot about all her troubles or that he could easily kill her.
“That’s better,” he said, running a hand over her hair and looking deeply into her eyes. “Now that you’re quiet, may I tell you about my past?”
Her heart beat rapidly and she didn’t know what to do. Her head told her to shout out and call for help, but her heart told her that he would never hurt her. Listening for the answer within her, like Mazelina told her to do, she finally answered. “Go ahead.”
He led her to the bed and they sat next to each other. Then he started to explain. “I wasn’t always an assassin, and it wasn’t by choice.”
“What do ye mean?” she asked, taking a deep breath and releasing it slowly.
“When my father was hung for conspiring to kill the king, my family and I were thrown into the dungeon at Whitmore.”
“Yer faither wanted to kill my cousin, Richard?” Her body tensed in anticipation. She didn’t relax until he rubbed her back gently and continued to explain.
“I don’t believe my father was part of any such thing. However, it was my word against Lord Whitmore’s.”
“Lord Whitmore? The man who came to your chamber with your squire? Or should I say, your brother?”
“Aye. Whitmore is an advisor to the king. And Percival is one of my eight siblings.”
“Ye have that many brothers and sisters?”
“I do. And even the twins, at only seven years of age, were imprisoned as well.”
“Nay, tell me it isna so.” Morag couldn’t even imagine such a horrible situation.
“I had to do something to save my family from being killed. That’s when Lord Whitmore told me that if I agreed to be the king’s assassin, he would make a deal with me. For every man I stopped from trying to kill Richard, one person of my family would be set free.”
“That’s what those notches in the hilt of yer sword were.”
“Aye, I am sad to say, it is true. Those eleven notches were for the eleven men I was ordered to kill. I didn’t want to kill anyone, but I had no choice, Morag. Don’t you see? If I didn’t, I would lose my family and I couldn’t allow that to happen.”
“Oh, Bedivere, I had no idea.” She reached out and took his hands in hers.
“No one did,” he said. “The whole incident with my father and my family was kept quiet.”
“So is yer family safe now?”
“My aunt, uncle, brothers, and sisters have all been set free. They are living in a small shack on Whitmore’s demesne. However, I have one more kill to make before my poor mother is released.”
“How long has she been there, Bedivere?”
“It’s been two years now.”
Morag shuddered at the thought. She’d seen the conditions of the dungeons in several castles and couldn’t even imagine staying in a cell for one night.
“If ye are killin’ off bad men who want to kill King Richard, then it is a guid thing, right?” She smiled slightly and looked into his dark eyes.
“I suppose it is,” he answered. “However, recently, I am starting to have doubts that I should have taken Whitmore’s word that these men were guilty. I’ll never know for sure if they were, and that is something that will haunt me for the rest of my life.”
“Why is Lord Whitmore here?” asked Morag curiously.
“He is here because I refused to make my last kill.”
“Ye did?” asked Morag. She was afraid to ask but, in her normal nature, she had to know. “Who does he want ye to kill?”
Bedivere hesitated before answering. “It’s not just one man, Morag, but three.”
“Three?” Morag raised a brow. “I dinna understand.”
“I was ordered to kill three men that I’m sure are not plotting to kill Richard at all.”
“Who are they?” she asked, feeling a sour taste in her mouth, somehow knowing she wasn’t going to like his answer.
“They are three men you know well,” he told her. Looking into her eyes, he spoke lowly. “Morag, I was ordered to kill the Legendary Bastards of the Crown!”
Morag couldn’t believe what she’d just heard. Her body stiffened and anger as well as fear pumped through her.
“What?” she asked, hoping this was only some sort of sick jest. There was no way it could be true.
“You heard me. I don’t like it either. I’m sorry I had to tell you this, but I didn’t want to lie to you anymore.”
Morag snatched her hands from his and sprang up off the bed. Bedivere jumped up as well and reached out for her.
“Dinna touch me, ye monster!” she cried, backing up against the bedpost with her hands out in front of her for protection.
“Is that how you really see me, Morag?” The look of intense sadness in his eyes was not that of someone with vengeance in his heart. Instead, it seemed as if her words had cut him to the bone. “I never said I was going to do it. If it’ll ease your mind, I’m not planning on harming them at all.”
“I dinna believe ye,” she spat, even though, in her heart, she felt he was telling the truth. “How can ye be so calloused that it doesna even seem to bother ye to take the lives of those I love?”
“Oh, it bothers me, Morag,” he answered gruffly. “More than you’ll ever know. Do you understand that by denying this order, I am putting my mother’s life at stake? If I don’t figure out what to do soon, she’ll die in Whitmore’s dungeon. He might even decide to come after the rest of my family as well.”
“Oh, I didna think of that,” she said, feeling her heart soften toward him. “Are ye sure ye are no’ goin’ to hurt my faither or uncles?” She had to ask again, just to be sure.
“I am going to try to help them, not hurt them,” he assured her. “But since I refused to kill them, Whitmore has sent two unidentified assassins to do the job instead.”
“Nay!” Morag held on to the bedpost for strength. “Bedivere, we need to tell my faither and uncles about this anon.”
“We can’t.” He paced back and forth, dragging a worried hand through his hair. “If they know about it, they will confront Whitmore and then I’ll never flush out the hired killers. I want to take out the assassins first so Whitmore won’t order them to go back and kill my mother.”
“Isna that dangerous? No’ only for my faither and uncles but also for ye?”
“It is. However, I feel it is something I have to do.”
“But if my faither and uncles ken about the assassins, they can kill them and ye willna have to.”
“Nay.” Bedivere stopped pacing and released a frustrated breath. “If Whitmore knows that your uncles and father are aware that his men are here, he’ll pull them out rather than to risk their lives. No one wants to go up against the Legendary Bastards of the Crown. I want to do away with the threat of the assassins and then we can all sleep a little easier. Morag, tell me that you’re certain your father and uncles would never conspire against the king.”
“They wouldna do that! Richard is family.”
“So was Edward,” he reminded her with a raised brow. “Yet everyone knows your father and uncles fought against him.”
“True. At one time, they held vengeance in their hearts against their faither, but that was a long time ago. They have changed. They now support the English crown.”
“Even your father? After all, it is no secret he has never accepted the English or paid homage to Edward in any way in the past.”
Morag was sure her father wouldn’t conspire against Richard. Then again, he did have a temper and that could work against him. Still, she wouldn’t tell Bedivere how much Reed despised the English because she didn’t want to put doubt in his mind. “Nay, my faither would never do that. Plus, he is no’ even in England so that should prove his innocence.”
Now Morag regretted sending Branton with a missive calling her father to England to compete for the late earl’s holdings. She never should have added his name to the list. He would be walking right into a lion’s den and it was all her fault.
“Morag, there is something else I haven’t told you.”
She felt the lump in her throat, not wanting to hear more. “What is it?” she asked, not wanting any more secrets between them.
“Whitmore thinks I am still taking out one last man in exchange for the release of my mother.”
“Who does he think ye are goin’ to kill?” She held her breath, waiting for the answer.
“Reed Douglas. Your father,” he answered, not able to look at her when he told her. “Whitmore thinks I am still targeting him while his other assassins go after Rook and Rowen.”
“Nay! Ye canna hurt my da,” cried Morag. “Dinna do it, Bedivere, please!”
“Shhh,” he told her, holding up a hand and looking over to the door. “I understand that.” Then his hands balled up into fists and his jaw tightened. “However, I don’t know what to do. You need to understand, I have to protect my family as well as free my mother.”
“Well, dinna hurt my family in order to do that.”
“I don’t want to.” He hung his head, shaking it slightly. “There has to be another way.”
“Do ye think Whitmore is somehow really involved in tryin’ to kill the king?”
“I don’t think so. He has too much to gain by keeping the king alive.”
Morag walked across the room to join him. “How is he findin’ out that all these men have bad intentions?”
“There are spies everywhere,” he explained. “That part doesn’t surprise me. But what does surprise me is how rich Whitmore has become in the past two years.”
“What do ye mean?”
“Every time I make a kill, Whitmore ends up claiming the dead man’s holdings. I didn’t think much of it at first, but it does seem a little suspicious.”
“So, Richard is thankful to him, and that’s why he gives him the dead man’s castle and land?”
“Exactly.”
“He sounds greedy.”
“He is. Being advisor to the king, he is constantly whispering in Richard’s ear and getting everything he wants and more.”
Morag’s nerves stilled as she now understood Bedivere’s dilemma. She wanted more than anything to help him free his mother. “Do ye think the men ye killed were guilty of plottin’ against the king or no’?”
“We’ll never know. But I’m sure my father was innocent.”
Morag paced back and forth in thought. “Mayhap, because my uncles are close to Richard and often advise him unofficially, that has somethin’ to do with Whitmore wantin’ them dead.”
“Possibly.” Bedivere crossed the room and stared out the window in thought. “But why would he order me to kill your father? As you said, he’s in Scotland and doesn’t want anything to do with the English.”
“My faither and uncles would die for each other. They are verra close,” explained Morag. “If anyone killed my uncles, Rook and Reed, I am sure my faither would avenge their deaths.”
Bedivere turned to her. “You’re right. I think that is it. Morag, you are amazing at this.”
“I am?” Morag felt the blush rise to her cheeks. It felt good to be told she was good at something in her life, and this was the first time she ever heard it.
“I think my last kill should be the head of the snake,” he told her.
“Whitmore?” asked Morag, a small part of her still hoping he didn’t mean her father. “But if ye kill the king’s advisor, it is only goin’ to bring ye and yer family more trouble.”
“Aye,” Bedivere agreed. “That’s why I am going to have to trick Whitmore into admitting his deception. The king needs to know about this.”
“Ye’ll also need witnesses that will hear him confess, for when he goes to trial.”
“Aye. But in the meantime, I need to get back out there and try to stop those assassins. I won’t have the deaths of the bastard triplets on my conscience, too. My mind is already tainted enough.”
“I’m goin’ to help ye,” Morag told him.
Bedivere shook his head and let loose with a breath of air. “Nay. What could you do?” he asked her. “I would rather have you locked away safely inside your chamber until I can get things under control. I don’t want to have to worry about you because it’ll distract me. And if I’m distracted, someone is going to end up dead.”
“If someone is out there tryin’ to kill my faither and uncles, I assure ye there is nothin’ in the world ye can do to keep me behind locked doors. I am goin’ to help ye whether ye like it or no’.” Morag crossed her arms over her chest as she took a stand. Her chin rose as she challenged him to tell her otherwise. This decision felt good. It felt right. It was something Morag had to do, no matter how frightened she was deep down. She would push away her fear and her nerves and act like a strong woman for the first time in her life.
Bedivere hesitated and, for a moment, Morag honestly thought he was going to object. But then with a slight nod of his head, he agreed. “All right. But you have to keep this a secret. Plus, I need you to promise to stop going off into the woods without an escort.”
“I promise,” answered Morag, knowing there was no reason to return to the secret garden again since Mazelina had left her.
Bedivere walked over and took Morag by the shoulders. Staring deeply into her eyes, she felt that whatever he was about to say was from his heart. “I love you, Morag. And I won’t allow harm to come to you. When this is all over and my family, as well as yours is safe, and Whitmore is behind bars, I will marry you just like we planned.”
“Really?” Morag was so surprised that he still wanted her that it took her breath away. “Then ye are no’ goin’ to abandon me like everyone else? And ye want to truly be my husband after all?”
“I promise you, I will never abandon you,” he said in a breathy whisper, kissing her atop the head, pulling her against his chest in a protective hug. “I want more than anything to be your husband. Together, we will find a way to save my mother and stop the assassins.”
“I will help ye, Bedivere. Just tell me what to do.”
He released her and took a step back. “I need you to get out there and listen to all the gossip you can.”
“What?” Morag asked, this being the last thing she expected him to say. “Nay, I canna do that. I made a promise never to gossip again.”
“But I need you to gossip! In doing so, you will get others to talk as well. And with a little luck, your skill of meddling into everyone’s affairs will be an asset. We’ll not only be able to find and stop the assassins, but we’ll be able to put Whitmore behind bars where he belongs.”
