“It is so strange,” Meg whispered.
“What is?”
“Duncan touched John that way,” she said without thinking.
The gentleness Simon had displayed vanished.
“Duncan,” Simon said in a low, savage voice. “I’ll have his heart for this.”
Meg drew in a swift breath. “For what?”
“Poisoning my brother.”
“Duncan was nowhere near here!”
“His minions were.”
“The Reevers are gone.”
“God rot them,” Simon said coldly. “I’m talking about Duncan’s spies within the keep. One of them poisoned Dominic. When I find out who, I will hang him.”
Meg looked stricken. “No one in the keep would poison…”
Her voice died as she realized that someone had. She closed her eyes. Unwittingly she ran her hands up and down her arms as though warding off a cold wind. The thought of someone within her home so hating Dominic as to kill him in this cowardly way literally chilled her.
“Before I watched your struggle to save Dominic’s life,” Simon said, “I was certain you were the poisoner.”
Meg’s eyes opened as green and hard as the emerald Dominic had given her.
“I am a healer,” she said.
“Aye.” Simon smiled almost gently. “Were it not for you, Dominic would be dead. So it is reasonable to assume you didn’t poison him in the first place.”
“Perhaps no one meant to poison him. Perhaps whoever drugged the ale tipped too much in one of the mugs and Dominic was unlucky enough to get that mug.”
Simon tilted his head aside as though considering the matter.
“Perhaps,” he said after a time, but there was no enthusiasm in his voice. “It’s not very likely.”
“What do you think happened?” Meg asked.
“I think someone poisoned the barrel of ale, and then added more to Dominic’s mug to be certain.”
“Who? When?”
“The barrel could have been poisoned at any time.”
“No. Only since the day before the wedding.”
“Why do you say that?”
“That was when I discovered the potion was missing,” Meg said.
“Did you tell Dominic?” Simon demanded.
“No.”
“God’s blood, why not?”
“I wasn’t certain what kind of man he was,” Meg said bluntly. “In any case, it could have been one of your people who stole the medicine.”
Simon made a dismissive gesture with his hand. “Nay. The knights are loyal. Dominic sold his soul to ransom them.”
“What of the rest of your people? How many do you know well enough to vouch for their honesty?”
“Give way, sister,” Simon said impatiently. “Who of my people could have known about the herbal and the medicines you keep there?”
“None of Blackthorne’s people use my herbal but Old Gwyn.”
Simon’s eyes narrowed. “Where is she?”
“Exchanging knowledge with a wise woman from a settlement a day’s walk to the south.”
“She could have poisoned the ale.”
“If she had, every knight would be dead.”
He gave Meg a swift, black look. “How so?”
“Old Gwyn knows the dosage,” Meg said succinctly. “There wasn’t enough in the missing bottle to kill when mixed in a barrel of ale, unless three or four men divided it among themselves.”
Simon smiled slightly. “The ale would have killed them first. So…Old Gwyn.”
“Nay. Gwyn no more could kill in that way than I could. She is Glendruid, a healer.”
“Does Eadith know the doses?” Simon asked.
“No. Why?”
“She served much of the ale. And she hates Normans.”
“Truly?” Meg asked in a dry tone. “Is that why she spends more time in the bed of Thomas the Strong than in her own?”
“She served the ale,” Simon insisted.
“The leman served it too,” Meg retorted. “Do you suspect her?”
“Marie? Of course not. She owes her living to Dominic.”
“And Eadith owes hers to me. She can be a tiresome gossip, but that is no reason to suspect her of such a heinous act.”
“She is ambitious,” Simon countered.
“Yes. She wants a husband and a home of her own. So does the red-lipped leman.”
Simon made a sound of exasperation and raked his hand through his hair.
“It must be one of John’s knights,” Simon said finally.
Instantly Meg started to object, only to be cut off by an impatient gesture from Simon.
“Someone poisoned that ale and nearly killed Dominic,” Simon said in a cold voice. “There will be no safety for anyone in this keep until we find out who is the viper at our breast.”
Meg looked over to the bed where Dominic slept. As much as she hated Simon’s conclusion, she knew he was correct. Blackthorne Keep lived or died with Dominic le Sabre.
And Dominic had nearly died.
19
DOMINIC AWOKE IN THE MIDDLE of the night with Meg’s soft warmth lying alongside him and a headache that threatened to tear his skull apart. When he opened his eyes, even the vague shimmer of firelight through the bed draperies was like a knife in his eyes. Stifling a groan, he pressed his hands against his temples and wondered what had happened to him.
Instantly Meg awakened and reached for the basket of medicines that she had kept near her throughout the long hours of Dominic’s sleep. With quick motions she mixed a packet of powdered bark into a mug of water Simon had drawn from the well and personally delivered to Dominic’s room.
“Here,” she said, handing the mug to Dominic. “Drink this. It will ease your head.”
Without hesitation, he put the mug to his lips. Though the potion was bitter, he didn’t lower the mug until the last drop was drunk.
Meg let out a relieved breath.
“Did you think I’d fight you over the medicine?” Dominic asked dryly.
“I was afraid you might think as Simon did at first.”
A black eyebrow lifted in silent query.
“Your brother thought that I was the one who poisoned you,” Meg explained.
“Poisoned.”
Dominic sat bolt upright, winced, and muttered something in Turkish. Meg sat up and pressed her hands against Dominic’s chest, urging him to lie back once more.
“Don’t get up yet,” Meg said. “Your head must feel as though an ax were buried in it.”
“Aye,” he groaned. “God’s blood, it feels just like that.”
“Shhh,” she murmured. “Close your eyes. It will help. Even the gentle light of the hearth must seem harsh to you right now.”
As Meg leaned down to massage Dominic’s temples, the golden bells twined within her loose braids sang tiny songs.
“So you still wear your jesses,” he said, remembering more of what had happened with every breath.
“Until you remove them,” Meg agreed.
“Yet you break your word to me in other ways.”
Her hands paused. She was glad Dominic’s eyes were closed; even half-dead from the lingering results of the poison, he would have seen the fear in her.
A wise man shows mercy only once to the same person. Never fight me again, small falcon.
But she had.
“Harry’s wife—” Meg began, rubbing Dominic’s temples again.
“I remember,” he interrupted. “A long, difficult birthing. How does she fare?”
“I don’t know. Simon has allowed no one but himself in or out of this room. Even now, he sleeps outside your door.”
“Does the woman need you?” Dominic asked.
Meg wondered what Dominic was thinking. His voice gave no clue. Nor did his body. He was fully in control of himself again.
“I think not,” she said. “Gwyn returned just before sunset yesterday. If something were wrong with Adela, Gwyn would have co
me to me.”
“And to the devil with Simon’s edicts?” Dominic asked neutrally. “Or mine?”
Meg wondered how to explain to her husband that she was responsible for the people of the keep in a way that transcended the normal duties of a lord’s wife.
“Knowing people hurt when I could bring ease,” Meg said haltingly, “that they sicken when I could bring health, that they die when I might have helped them live…”
Meg fought the ache constricting her throat as she searched Dominic’s face for a hint of his thoughts. There was none. His expression was like his voice: ruthlessly disciplined, almost inhuman in its lack of emotion.
“Whatever punishment you mete out to me for breaking my vow,” Meg whispered, “could be no worse than knowing one of my people died when I could have saved her.”
Dominic’s hands closed over Meg’s, stilling her soothing motions against his temples.
“You broke your vow to me,” he said.
“Yes,” Meg said, closing her eyes.
“You will do it again if your people need you.”
“Yes,” she whispered. “I’m sorry, husband. I can obey you in many things, but not in that.”
“And you are prepared to take whatever punishment I find suitable.”
She took a deep breath and said, “Yes. Just don’t truly lock me away. I couldn’t bear that.”
“Nor would the people,” Dominic said. “Is that it?”
Hesitantly Meg said, “Aye.”
“You are truly a double-edged sword, wife.”
“I don’t mean to be. I am simply…what I am.”
“Glendruid.”
“Yes.”
After a moment Dominic asked, “How did you get out of the keep?”
Meg did not answer. Nor did she open her eyes. She didn’t want to confront the cold anger of her husband.
There was silence for such a long time that Meg finally risked a glance at Dominic. He was watching her with a clear calculation that once would have chilled her. Now, knowing what drove him, she felt only the same compassion that she did for the people of Blackthorne Keep, caught in lives that were rarely of their own making.
“You are a very brave woman,” Dominic said coolly. “But then, you are well protected. If the least thing displeases you, you simply hold your ‘people’ over my head like the sword of Damocles.”
“That’s not true!” Meg said passionately. “I hated being shut away from the sun like a falcon newly come to the mews, but I didn’t cry my unhappiness from the windows. I detested being a steppingstone on the way to men’s ambitions, but I said nothing to the people of Blackthorne Keep when the king decreed my marriage. Even when John beat me, I said nothing!”
“But the people knew just the same.”
She hesitated, then nodded, for it was the truth.
“Just as I know about their pain,” Meg said simply. “We are…joined.”
Dominic let the silence stretch while he considered the Glendruid wife who kept surprising him with her combination of vulnerability and intransigence.
“Obviously there is a bolthole in this keep,” he said finally. “You will show it to me, and only to me.”
Meg didn’t want to reveal her secret route from the keep, yet it was Dominic’s right as the lord to know where the bolthole was.
“Yes,” she said softly.
The corner of Dominic’s mouth kicked up. “Was it that hard, small falcon?”
“What?”
“Giving me what is my due as your lord.”
“You make me sound cold and selfish.”
“No. Just untamed.”
Meg’s bleak smile surprised Dominic.
“Untamed?” she asked. “Is that how you see me?”
“How else could I see you? You obey no one, not even your husband.”
“I obey everyone, answering the needs of even the lowliest of Blackthorne’s people. Not once—never—has anyone asked me what my own desire was.”
“What is it?”
“Freedom, lord. Just that.”
Slipping her hands from beneath Dominic’s, Meg got out of bed to tend the hearth.
“Sleep. Your body has much healing to do.”
“I will heal more quickly with you beside me.”
Meg hesitated in the act of adding a piece of oak branch to the fire. Tiny flames lifted toward the wood as though sensing that their destiny was to burn, and in burning, to warm lives that would otherwise go cold.
Slowly Meg lowered the branch among the coals. Before she could take a full breath, tongues of fire raced over the oak, cherishing it and setting it ablaze. After a moment she stood and went back to Dominic’s bed. She pulled apart the heavy drapes surrounding the bed.
Dominic was waiting for her. He held the covers aside, silently inviting Meg to come to bed. She slid quickly beneath the covers, not wanting any warmth to escape. Behind her, the drapes fell shut once more, cutting off the drafts from the shutters.
“You’ll catch a chill if you don’t keep the covers snugly around you,” Meg said.
“You’ll warm me.”
Dominic’s strong arms reached for Meg, tucked her alongside his body, and pulled her close in an intimacy that had become familiar in the days since their marriage. Usually his was the greater warmth, but not tonight. Tonight, the last of the poison still touched Dominic’s body with cool fingers.
Meg wrapped the covers closer around both of them and tried to cover as much of his flesh with her own as she could. The warmth of her body radiated against him. The feel of it sent a shimmer of simple pleasure through Dominic.
Smiling, he brushed his lips over Meg’s forehead, smoothed her cheek with his palm, and gave himself back to healing sleep. Meg quickly followed, her body relaxing along her husband’s until both were warmed.
Then the dream came and icy fingers clawed Meg’s heart.
“Nay!”
She sat upright in a rush, her heart racing like a runaway horse, shaking her.
Dominic sat up an instant later, a knife in his hand. A quick glance told him that the draperies around the bed hadn’t been disturbed, for only a thin glimmer of light shone through the crack where the hearth lay.
“Dominic?” Simon called harshly from beyond the door. “Is all well?”
“Yes. It was only a dark dream.”
Simon muttered something about witches and nightmares as he settled against the door once more to get what sleep he could from the remaining night.
Beside Dominic, Meg shivered and murmured sounds which had no meaning except that of fear and denial.
With a swift motion, Dominic slid the knife under his pillow once more, threw back a drapery, and lit a fresh candle from the guttering remains of the one on the table. The room was cold. Only bare embers remained of the fire. Yet he doubted that was why his wife shivered.
“Meg?” Dominic said in a low voice, stroking her cheek. “What is it?”
At first Meg didn’t hear him, for she was still in the grip of nightmare.
“Meg?”
Her eyes opened and she glanced around as though disoriented.
“Dominic? Is something wrong? Do you feel ill again?”
“No. ’Tis you, Meg. You cried out.”
“Oh.”
Rubbing her palms up and down her arms, Meg looked around, truly seeing the room for the first time since waking. A fresh candle burned brightly a few feet from the bed. Embers glowed in the hearth. No hint of light came through the narrow gap in the shutters.
“The fire,” she said absently.
“I’ll tend it.”
“No. You’ll take a chill.”
Dominic turned Meg’s face until she looked at him.
“What is wrong?” he asked.
She opened her lips but no words came out. Shivering, she rubbed her arms again as though to put warmth back in skin that had gone cold.
“Lie down,” Dominic said, pushing Meg back onto the bed as he spoke. “Yo
u’ll take a chill.”
He got up and fed the fire with a few quick motions that spoke eloquently of returning health. When he came back to bed, he pulled Meg close but made no move to pull the draperies around the bed once more. He suspected that light was more important to his wife right now than warmth.
Slowly Meg’s arms stole around Dominic. Her breath came out in a long, soundless sigh against his chest.
“Can you tell me now?” Dominic asked.
At first he thought she would refuse to speak. Then her breath came out in another noiseless rush of warmth.
“Just a dream,” Meg said.
“Do you dream like that often?”
“No.”
Dominic waited.
Meg said no more.
“Are you afraid of me?” he asked after a moment. “Of how I might punish you?”
“No,” she whispered. “Though I should be.”
“Why?”
“You are so much stronger than I am.”
He made a sound halfway between harsh laughter and disbelief. “Am I? Is that why I find myself unable to get the most simple form of obedience from you?”
“But—” Meg began.
The pressure of Dominic’s fingers on her lips cut off her protest.
“Tell me,” Dominic said in a low voice. “Why are you afraid?”
“Sometimes—sometimes I dream,” Meg said in a rush.
“Most people do.”
“Not—like this. There is danger. I know it.”
“Night fears are common,” he said calmly.
“Do you have them?”
“Yes.”
Meg shifted her head until she could see Dominic’s profile outlined in firelight.
“Of what do you dream?” she whispered.
“I don’t know. I know only that I awake cold and sweating.”
“You don’t remember your dreams?”
“Some of them,” he said.
“But not those that wake you?” she persisted.
“No. Not those.”
Meg’s long sigh sent warmth rushing over Dominic’s skin.
Untamed Page 22
