Taming the Highland Bride

Taming the Highland Bride Page 27

by Lynsay Sands

  Godfrey's words died as he finally glanced over and spotted Merry with Edda. He gave up pushing at Alex then and let him drop back to the ground in a heap as he turned to stare at her in horror.

  "What is she doing here?" he asked with alarm, stepping in front of Alex as if to hide his body with his small frame.

  "What do you think she is doing here?" Edda snapped with disgust. "She read the letter from your father and connected the names. Evelinde told her my sister was Lady Duquet," she added grimly. "Certainly Alex never recognized the name."

  Godfrey bit his lip and then glanced to Merry, "My lady, I--"

  "Oh, please," Edda interrupted with disgust. "Do not tell me you intend to grovel and plead for forgiveness. You are trying to kill her husband. She will hardly thank you for that when the little fool is so obviously in love with him."

  Godfrey fell silent, his gaze returning reluctantly to Alex's prone form. Afraid he would now continue with his efforts to throw Alex off the wall, Merry asked quickly, "So you were the one behind the accidents and fire on the journey?"

  "I thought you were in the wagon with Una when I set the fire," Godfrey said quickly.

  "That is not what she asked," Edda said with amusement and then told Merry, "Aye, it was him. He is a good boy, more than eager to help out his auntie for my silence and a few coins."

  That caught Merry's attention, and she glanced back to the woman to ask curiously, "Silence on what?"

  "Our little Godfrey has something of a gambling problem. He got himself in some trouble earlier this year when he accompanied my sister and her husband to court and got himself in deep with usurers."

  "Was he not in Tunis with Alex this last year?" Merry asked with surprise.

  "Nay. Godfrey replaced Alex's last squire, who was finished with his training when he returned from Tunis," Edda explained.

  Alex hadn't mentioned that, Merry thought with a small frown. But then why should he? She was sure there was much he had not mentioned and she hadn't thought to ask about.

  "At any rate," Edda continued, "Alfred paid off Godfrey's debts and exhorted him to stop. Godfrey, of course, promised he would, but both Alfred and my sister were fretting that he would not be able to resist, and so I suggested he be sent here to be trained by Alex. I pointed out that here, far from court or even a large town for quite a distance, there would be little temptation for Godfrey to break his promise. And I, of course, would keep an eye on the boy." She grinned, and Merry felt pity for the sister who had been foolish enough to trust her son's well-being to this woman.

  "And no one mentioned the connection between ye to Alex?" she asked quietly.

  Edda pursed her lips as if in thought, and then clucked. "I do believe I may have forgotten to mention that. I may even have suggested to my sister that they might not wish to mention it, either...just so that Alex did not start asking questions, learn of Godfrey's gambling problems, and reject the request, of course."

  "O' course," Merry said dryly.

  "They thought it all a wonderful idea and petitioned Alex at once. He accepted, and Godfrey arrived here just the day before you." Edda smiled at the lad with satisfaction, to which he scowled in return, which made her laugh as she turned back to Merry. "Unfortunately, even in the village here there is gambling. Cockfights and other low-class games of chance that anyone who wishes may bet on." She shrugged. "He soon found himself unable to resist the temptation of gambling and in trouble again owing money he did not have. He came to me, of course."

  "And ye were ever so helpful," Merry suggested dryly.

  "Of course. He is my nephew. I promised to pay off his debts and not tell his father--who would surely disinherit him this time--all in exchange for one little favor."

  "Little?" Merry scoffed. "Ye've blackmailed the boy to commit murder. And you!" She turned on Godfrey. "Diya really think being hung fer murder is better than taking a beating from the local moneylender?"

  "Nay," he said grimly. "But 'tis better than being disinherited and left a pauper without title, home, or wealth...and then I will only be hung if I am caught."

  "Ye're caught," she said coldly, and was satisfied by the fear that flashed in the boy's eyes if only for a moment before he glanced to his aunt.

  "Aye. You are," Edda agreed. "What are we going to do about that?"

  Godfrey hesitated, his eyes sliding back to Merry, and she thought she saw a brief struggle on his face, but then he said, "Kill her, too."

  "Nay. Then I shall surely be left homeless and penniless," Edda said, and then added grimly, "And trust me, nephew, does that happen I will not keep my mouth shut about your gambling here."

  "Well, we cannot let her live," Godfrey argued, his brief moment of regret apparently gone. "She will see us both hanged."

  "And if she dies without producing an heir, the castle will go to Evelinde and her husband and they shall surely cast me out," Edda snapped. "'Tis why it was done this way if you will recall. She was to get with child, then Alex was to die, and she was to follow once the babe was born and I could remain as his or her guardian and Lady d'Aumesbery for a good twenty years more, or longer if I could manage it. I will remain Lady of d'Aumesbery."

  Merry's eyes were wide as she suddenly understood what had seemed so incomprehensible before. "Ye were dosing Alex to make him randy, not appear drunk and cause trouble between us."

  Edda waved that away with irritation. "The slurring and staggering were an unfortunate side effect. The tonic was a combination of things to make him bed you often and well and get you with child. I also dumped some emetic in the soldiers' ale in the barracks to ensure they became ill so that Alex had to delay the trip. And I was giving you a tonic as well to strengthen you to accept his seed." She smiled slightly and added, "However, your tonic had no side effects, unpleasant or otherwise."

  Merry's eyes narrowed at these words, but she merely said, "That is why ye were askin' about me being with child ere we headed to Scotland."

  Edda smiled. "On your wedding night you told me you'd last had your woman's time two weeks earlier. When three weeks passed after the wedding and--no doubt--repeated beddings without its return, I knew my tonic had worked and you were with child." She shrugged. "There was no reason to delay killing Alex. An accident on his journey to Scotland seemed the safest bet." She turned angry eyes to her nephew and added in harsh tones, "However, the boy messed that up like he does everything."

  While Godfrey stiffened and puffed up with outrage at the angry words, Merry had no interest in them whatsoever and asked, "But why continue on with the tonic on the trip then if ye thought I was carryin'?"

  "There was extra left over," Edda said with a shrug. "I had made up an awful lot, expecting to have to dose him for longer than I did, and it did seem beneficial that the side effects made him clumsy and slow thinking. I thought he would be easier for Godfrey to handle did he continue dosing him. Howbeit," she added, turning a glare on the lad, "he messed that up, too, dosing himself by accident."

  "I told you, it was not an accident. I slipped into the tent and dosed Lord Alex's wine while they were out checking the cut I gave her mare--"

  "The cut was yer doing?" Merry interrupted.

  Godfrey nodded. "Just a small one, a nick. I had to point right at it before Allan even noticed it," he added with disgust. "But then you two came out to look as I knew you would and I slipped into the tent to put the tonic in his wine."

  "Too much tonic," Edda said grimly and complained to Merry, "He doubled the dosage I told him to use and then was foolish enough to drink it himself."

  "You told me two portions," Godfrey argued.

  "I told you one."

  "Two," the boy insisted, and then added, "And I knew what I was doing when she pressed the tonic on me, but what could I do? Admit there was tonic in the wine and refuse to take it?"

  Edda opened her mouth to snap back, but paused and turned a confused and suspicious glance Merry's way as she suddenly began to laugh. "What are you finding so

funny, Merewen Stewart?"

  "Merry d'Aumesbery," she corrected, sobering only slightly, and then explained, "I am laughing because the two o' ye are ridiculous. Ye're a pair o' jesters, too clumsy and foolish to succeed at anything."

  "Is that right?" Edda asked grimly. "And yet your husband is about to die."

  "And ye'll still have naught," Merry said with a shrug despite the fact that her heart ached at the thought of Alex dying. It wasn't going to happen could she help it, but she was still searching for a way to save them both and it was not looking good.

  "We shall have you, and the child you carry," Edda pointed out, and when Merry opened her mouth, quickly went on, "You are about to say that you will surely turn us in the first chance you get. Howbeit, you will not get the chance. The tonic I gave Alex is not the only one I know. My mother was a master of herbs and tonics, and all things healing as well as not so healing in nature. I shall simply keep you full of one of the many that will leave you silent and your mind scrambled until the babe is born, and then you shall die giving birth...even if I have to smother you with a folded fur to do it."

  Merry nodded slowly at these words, but then said, "Actually, I wasna goin' to say I would tell. I was goin' to say I'm no' carryin' a child."

  Edda blinked several times, her mind apparently having difficulty accepting this, and then disbelief filled her face and she shook her head, "Nay. Your woman's time--"

  "--has always been undependable; sometimes late, sometimes no' coming at all," Merry said with a shrug. "It used to worry me, but me mither told me she was the same way and I should ha'e no problem conceiving. Howbeit, I havena yet," she added pointedly.

  "But--"

  "Alex didna even bed me until the night ere the journey to Scotland," she announced triumphantly.

  "But the blood," Edda protested with alarm.

  "I told ye I cut me leg."

  "But you said--"

  "I told ye what ye wanted to hear, Edda," she said dryly. "The truth is, though, that after ye'd all departed that night, Alex got out o' bed to close the door properly, stumbled over some clothes on the way back, and knocked himself out. He wasna conscious and couldna consummate." Merry smiled her satisfaction and then said, "So, ye can do what ye like, but there'll be no heir to keep ye here as Lady d'Aumesbery. Ye will be homeless and penniless, for Evelinde will inherit, and she kens ye too well to be fooled by yer sweet smiles and kind words. She'll put ye out ere Alex and I are even placed in the family crypt."

  Fury crossed Edda's face, but 'twas like lightning, there and gone quickly. A look of determination followed that was somehow more frightening than the fury could ever be. "That little bitch will never put me out. There will be an heir," she announced grimly. "I shall just keep you dosed as planned and have Godfrey at you every night until you begin to grow with one. And then--"

  "The hell you will!"

  Merry glanced sharply toward her husband to see that he had regained consciousness. In fact, judging by his expression and the speed with which he regained his feet now, she suspected he'd regained consciousness shortly after she'd arrived and had heard most of the explanations. He looked more than angry, he was enraged, and it was enough to make Godfrey back away, wide-eyed.

  "Stop him, you fool, else we are both done for," Edda snapped, even as she grabbed Merry by the arm and jerked her against her. The knife was at her throat ere Merry had fully come to rest with her back against the woman's chest, and she winced at the pressure of the cold steel on her throat. Her eyes automatically sought out her husband. When she saw that Alex had paused, his sword only half drawn as he saw her peril, Merry knew she would have to do something. She would not have him give up his weapon to save her. That would only see them both dead.

  Movement from Godfrey drew her eyes then and she saw that the lad was taking advantage of Alex's distraction and rushing him with his own sword drawn. Ignoring the knife at her throat, Merry shouted a warning and then grabbed for Edda's arm and slammed her slippered foot down on one of Edda's even as she forced the hand away. Merry's actions were instinctive, things she'd been helping to train the Stewart men in since she was sixteen. She didn't think, but simply followed the training, pushing against Edda's wrist, and whirling out from between her and the knife. Edda, of course, was pulling at the weapon, trying to stab at her with it and prevent her escape. The moment Merry was out from between the knife and Edda, she reversed the pressure, adding her own impetus to Edda's so that the woman actually stabbed herself.

  Both of them froze as the knife slammed into the base of her throat, and Merry found herself staring into Edda's startled, angry eyes, and then the life slipped from them and Merry released her as she began to sink to the floor of the tower roof.

  She turned immediately to her husband then to find him in battle with his squire. His attention had obviously been only half on the fight as he'd kept an eye on what was happening with her. She saw the relief on his face as he noted that she was no longer in danger, and then Alex turned his attention wholly to Godfrey.

  "You cannot win, boy, you know that. Give it up and live."

  "Live how?" Godfrey asked bitterly. "In one of the cells in d'Aumesbery's dungeon? I think not, my lord. You shall have to kill me."

  "So be it," Alex said quietly, and Merry turned away, not wishing to watch him have to kill the lad. Her gaze dropped to the woman lying at her feet, and she felt her mouth tighten. This was all her fault. Edda had brought about her own death as well as her nephew's, and Merry had no idea how they would tell Lady and Lord Duquet what had come to pass.

  In the next moment the clang of swords ended with a grunt of pain. It was followed by a silence that made her bite her lip and then glance around just to be sure the end she'd thought had come and that Godfrey had not somehow got in a lucky blow. She found Alex kneeling beside the lad, smoothing the hair from his face and listening to something the boy was whispering to him. Merry stayed where she was, not wishing to intrude, but knew the moment when the boy drew his last breath by the way her husband's shoulders slumped and he bowed his head.

  She moved to him then and rested one hand on his shoulder. Alex didn't respond for a moment and then he lifted a hand to clasp hers, and they remained like that a moment. It was how Gerhard found them when he rushed onto the tower roof moments later. Merry glanced around at the clank of metal that announced his arrival and raised one surprised eyebrow as the man came to an abrupt halt, his gaze sliding from Edda's prone body to Godfrey's.

  "Una told me what you found in the letter and I came to see that all was well," he answered the silent question, and then added, "I take it, it was Edda and Godfrey behind it after all."

  Merry nodded silently and then glanced to her husband with surprise when he rose beside her and said, "The lad died saving us from his aunt."

  Gerhard gave a slight start at these words, his eyes sliding from Alex to her, and Merry realized that her own expression would give away the lie, but had trouble controlling it just then.

  Alex must have realized it, too, for he slid his sword back into his sheath and scooped her up into his arms, meeting her gaze briefly before telling Gerhard, "Edda had blackmailed him into helping her, but at the last moment he chose the side of right and died for his lord, and that is what we shall be telling his parents."

  Gerhard nodded abruptly, accepting what was really an order. "So it shall be."

  Nodding, Alex then moved past him, carrying Merry toward the door as he said, "Have both bodies prepared and carried to Duquet. They will no doubt wish to bury their son with honors and can decide for themselves what to do with Edda. She will no longer cast a shadow on d'Aumesbery, not even with her gravestone."

  Merry caught a glimpse of Gerhard nodding, and then Alex stepped into the tower and began to descend the stairs. She slid her arms around his neck and peered at his silent, stern face as he negotiated the steps, waiting until he'd stepped out and started up the hall to their room before saying, "That was kind o' ye."