Her gasp had him slowing his movements. Christ. What was he doing? He drew a long breath, trying desperately to regain his senses.
“I should go in,” Sophia whispered as she rested her forehead against his jaw.
“Aye. I must go as well,” he said reluctantly. “I have several things I must see to. Will you meet me before dusk?” He had to have another taste of her. He couldn’t make it through the day without it.
She was quiet for a long moment, and he worried she’d deny him. “There is a small lean-to in the alleyway near the potter’s.”
His body throbbed at the idea of being alone with her. “I look forward to it.” He kissed her once more before drawing back. “Dusk cannot come soon enough.”
Her smile tightened the band around his chest. Or was that his heart? “For me as well,” she whispered. She shook out her cloak and with one last look at him, entered the cottage.
He took several moments to redirect his thoughts, trying to set aside his need for her. He had much to do before the day’s end. The first thing was to verify if Thomas the butcher was the same man he’d seen last eve. If so, he had his first real information that could lead to who had killed Iagan. Did he dare confront the man with the hope of discovering why he’d done it? He scowled at the indecision that filled him.
Where was the de Bremont instinct his father and brother so often described? All he felt was uncertainty, and he was weary of it. He could only muddle through until something happened that made his path clear. He couldn’t wait for a sign before he took action. That would gain him nothing.
He stopped at the inn, but neither Chanse nor Braden were there. Unwilling to wait, he made his way to the far side of the city where the butcher and tanner were located. The stench that resulted from their work was repulsive to say the least. Garrick placed his arm over his nose and mouth for a moment when the odor became overpowering. He reminded himself not to breathe through his nose.
The shops were busy with customers as meat did not keep and had to be purchased the day the person wanted to cook it. Most households made do with meat only a few times a sennight, if that. Others were grateful to have it once.
Garrick lingered in the street, hoping he could catch sight of those working inside the butcher’s but only managed to draw attention to himself. Most of those shopping were housewives, and several glanced at him suspiciously. He moved on to the tanner’s where several furs were displayed that he feigned interest in. But the shop was too far from the butcher’s to provide him a view.
Cursing under his breath at the risk, he approached the butcher shop again, staying near the side of the building so he could easily take his leave if he had the good fortune to identify Thomas. But standing there made him too vulnerable. His back was exposed to anyone approaching from behind. The only way to avoid that was to step inside the shop so he might have a wall at his back, yet that made leaving quickly difficult if something went awry.
With another wary glance behind him, he remained in the doorway, staring into the dim interior of the shop, searching for the man he’d seen last night, feeling less and less confident that he could identify him. He should’ve waited for his cousins, but the sooner he located the man with the scar, the sooner they could form a plan to capture him.
There. Near the back of the shop, amidst the rabbits, ducks, mutton and beef carcasses hanging from the ceiling. Wasn’t that the very man he’d seen last eve? Garrick stared long and hard, willing the man to turn so he might better see his face. The terrible hook-shaped scar came into view as the man turned to speak with a customer. Thomas was definitely the man he’d seen and therefore the one who’d killed Iagan. A butcher certainly knew how to wield a knife. But why had he killed him?
As though feeling Garrick’s stare, Thomas glanced up and met his gaze, his mouth tightening into a hard line.
Garrick quickly looked away, glancing around the shop as though searching for someone, but it seemed his ploy did not work. He could see Thomas staring at him from the edge of his vision.
“Excuse me.” A woman at Garrick’s side caught his attention.
He looked at her, grateful for her interruption as it might make it appear that he was in the shop with her.
“You’re standing on my cloak,” she reprimanded him as she glanced down.
“My apologies.” Garrick stepped aside, berating himself for being so clumsy. He looked around only to realize Thomas had disappeared.
Perhaps that was for the better. Garrick could leave without gaining more of his attention. He eased back until he bumped into someone behind him.
“What do we have here?” The strong Scot accent filled Garrick with dismay.
“Someone up to no good,” another voice muttered.
Garrick felt the prick of a knife in his side.
“Ease back slowly, else I’ll plunge my blade clean through ye,” the man whispered in his ear.
The knife pressed firmly into his flesh, leaving Garrick no choice but to comply. The few patrons remaining in the shop seemed unaware of the danger. Garrick stepped back when the knife cut him further, his mind racing with how to disarm the man.
As they reached the doorway, a blow landed on the side of his head, the sharp pain plunging him into oblivion.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Sophia was still awake when the fingers of dawn crept through the shutters, casting faint light into the cottage.
Garrick had not come.
She’d waited a long time at the lean-to near the potter’s the previous night. Far too long. She’d been filled with such hope and longing and joy. The idea of continuing where they’d left off earlier in the day had caused butterflies to dance in her middle, a combination of nerves and anticipation. But he hadn’t come.
Her heart ached no matter what reason she latched onto for his absence. Had he left Berwick? That meant he’d broken his promise to tell her before he departed. While she’d known he hadn’t been completely honest with her the previous day, she didn’t think he would leave without speaking with her.
The alternative was that something terrible had happened. That made her heart hurt far worse. Each moment she’d spent lying on her pallet awash in worry had been endless. Once dawn arrived, she intended to go to the inn and see if he was there and find out what had happened.
His absence made her realize that she’d ignored recent events, as though pretending they hadn’t happened would make them go away. She needed to do more to discover why someone wanted her dead. Did Garrick missing their meeting have anything to do with the attempt on her life? Or the body of the man found in the river? She closed her eyes at the thought, her body rigid with fear, unable to remove the image of the man’s slit throat from her mind.
The tap on the cottage door sent her heart pounding. Could it be Garrick? She bolted upright and quickly slipped on her kirtle and slippers as Alec stepped to the door. At her nod, he called out, “Who’s there?”
“Chanse.” The knight’s deep voice sounded urgent even through the thick oak. “I must speak with Lady Sophia.”
A sob caught in her throat. Something terrible had happened to Garrick. She felt certain of it.
“A moment, please,” Sophia called out as she finished dressing.
Alec lifted the heavy wood plank that barred their door as Sophia grabbed her cloak from the peg. She waved at Coira to remain in her pallet. Ilisa had spent the night at St. Mary’s, and Eleanor only grumbled at the noise.
Sophia hurried outside, Alec by her side. “What’s happened?”
Chanse’s handsome face was lined with worry. “Garrick didn’t return to the inn last eve. I was hoping you’d seen him.”
“Nay. He was supposed to meet me at dusk near the potter’s but never came. I was going to find him this morn to see what delayed him.”
Chanse ran his hand through his hair, his restless movements signaling the depth of his concern. “I don’t know where he could be.”
Sophia kept her voice low. “He
seemed out of sorts yesterday when I spoke with him. Did he say anything to you?”
He eyed her warily, and she knew he was deciding how much he could tell her.
“I can’t help if I don’t know what is happening,” she said, holding his gaze in an attempt to convince him that he could trust her, even if Garrick hadn’t.
“I am not completely certain either. Therein lies the problem.” He turned away, his gaze sweeping the area as though he might spot Garrick.
“Where is your brother?” Sophia asked.
“Searching the city. We’ve looked everywhere but haven’t found a trace.”
Sophia reviewed her last conversation with Garrick. “Did he say anything to you about Thomas, the man with the hook-shaped scar?”
“You know the man with the scar?” Chanse asked, hope lighting his eyes.
“He’s the butcher, but I don’t understand how he could have anything to do with Garrick missing.”
Chanse stepped closer and lowered his voice. “We believe he was involved in the murder of the man pulled from the river. The one with his throat slit.”
Sophia’s stomach dropped as Alec gasped. “Why would Thomas kill him? He’s a kind man who cares deeply for his family. He’s always been pleasant to us.” She looked at Alec to see if he felt differently. As though the nod from her brother confirming what she said might convince Chanse they had the wrong information.
“Garrick heard him speaking, and ’twas enough to convince him something was amiss. Braden and I need to have a conversation with Thomas.”
“But if he had anything to do with Sir Garrick’s disappearance, he’ll know you suspect him,” Alec whispered. “Wouldn’t it be better to watch him? To see if he does anything unusual? Or leads you to him? I could do it. He wouldn’t suspect me.”
Sophia turned to Alec in alarm. “You will do no such thing. That would be far too dangerous.”
“I inquired about becoming an apprentice for him. He will only think me interested in the business if I spend some time with him at his shop this morn.”
Chanse looked to Sophia. From his expression, he obviously wanted her to agree. What should she do? She wanted to find Garrick as desperately as Chanse did, but she refused to put Alec in danger.
“I’m not certain what Garrick told you, but Thomas is our only hope to find him,” Chanse insisted. “Surely if the boy is careful, no harm will come to him.”
Sophia studied her brother, realizing he was no longer a little boy. He was wise beyond his years after all he’d lived through. She knew him to be a cautious soul, and she was grateful for it. But this was no ordinary task. “How careful would you be?”
“I have no desire to come to harm,” he promised. “But I would like to help find Sir Garrick.”
“I will remain nearby but out of sight,” Chanse offered. “If you have need of me, come out of the shop and signal me. If Thomas leaves, I’ll follow him.”
“Do you promise not to take any unnecessary risks?” Sophia asked her brother.
Alec nodded solemnly.
Chanse turned to Sophia. “You know the fisherman who found that body. Will he be on his boat this morn?”
“Every morn, regardless of the weather. Why?”
Chanse paused and drew a deep breath. “The river seems the most likely place for a body to be dumped. If the same men have Garrick, the river will be the best place to search.”
Sophia’s stomach dropped. She swallowed hard and pushed back her fear. “We are not searching for a body. Garrick is alive, and we will find him.” She’d never been so certain of something as she was this. She couldn’t say how she knew it to be true, but she did.
Chanse nodded but the grim set of his face said otherwise.
“I’ll go speak with the fishermen to ask for their help to search for him.”
Chanse placed a hand on her arm. “Take care. We don’t want word to spread far. That will not aid our cause.”
“Of course. I will only speak with the ones I know I can trust.” She wondered who that was anymore. If Thomas was capable of murder, who else might be involved? Yet they needed help to find Garrick. “I will ask them to be on watch for anything suspicious.”
“I’ll send Braden to your cottage later this morn to exchange what we’ve learned, if anything.” Chanse glanced at Alec. “Are you ready? I believe work at the butcher shop starts early.”
“Please be careful. Both of you,” Sophia said. “No one should take any chances.”
“That includes you,” Alec said with a meaningful look.
Sophia nodded. “We will talk again soon.” Lord how she hoped her words were true, and that they’d soon have good news to share.
She watched Alec and Chanse walk away then hurried toward the city gate, anxious to see if she could catch the fishermen before they took out their boats for the day.
Hold on, Garrick, she urged silently. We’ll soon find you.
~*~
Garrick came awake slowly, the pounding in his head causing his stomach to heave. That wasn’t the only pain, he realized. His entire body throbbed.
Each breath he drew caused a searing sting in his side. Broken ribs he guessed. His throat burned from the water he’d coughed up earlier. That had only made his side hurt more.
Water gently swayed his body, its frigid temperature numbing his legs and feet. His entire body was cold, but perhaps that was a good thing as it dulled some of the pain.
He moved his fingers, realizing he rested on grass. Apparently he’d managed to make it to the riverbank, despite his attackers’ attempt to drown him.
He still lived. But the day wasn’t yet over. He’d heard of men who’d suffered damage on their inside far worse than what had happened on the outside. And he tasted blood in his mouth. Christ only knew what caused that.
He didn’t bother to open his eyes. He wasn’t sure he could as one was too swollen to do so. His cheek ached and an attempt to move his jaw hurt like hell. As far as he could tell, he hurt everywhere.
His brother had once told him that pain was preferable to the alternative—death. He’d suggested keeping that thought in mind if he needed help to endure suffering. Garrick wasn’t certain which alternative was best at the moment. The pain was nearly unbearable. Only the image of his family, of Sophia, had him fighting off unconsciousness. He’d be damned if he let those men who’d tried to kill him succeed.
He remained still, trying to determine where he was and whether anyone watched. The idea of being forced under the water again made him tremble with fear.
Though he searched his mind, he could remember little after being struck on the head. He’d woken to find Thomas and two other men had dragged him to some dark, empty shop. Three against one had proven poor odds, especially since he’d already been half unconscious from the blow to his head. Had no one at the butcher shop raised concern when they’d hauled him off?
The first few strikes had hurt like hell, but darkness had soon taken him. From the way he ached, he had to assume they hadn’t stopped beating him after he’d passed out.
The sensation of the water coming over his head when they’d dumped his body into the river matched his vision perfectly. When that moment had happened, he’d feared all was lost. That his life was forfeit with no one the wiser. Yet somehow he still lived.
As the darkness beyond his closed eyes gradually lightened, he breathed a shallow sigh of relief. Dawn. Perhaps daylight would bring help. He made another attempt to open his eyes but only one responded. The pounding in his head made it difficult to focus. What part of the river he was on, he could not say. He might be far from Berwick. There was no way to tell from his current view. It was quiet here with only birds chirping to signal life.
Did he dare roll over? Then he scoffed. How could he do that when he hadn’t yet managed to lift his head? Patiently he waited, urging his body to respond, wanting to crawl the rest of the way out of the cold water as he was starting to shiver. His ribs didn’t care for th
at.
He waited a little longer, trying to gather his resolve to move while he listened for voices but heard no one. Digging deep to find strength, he used his elbows to pull himself up the bank, but the pain proved too much. Luckily his stomach was already empty but the dry heaves set his ribs on fire.
As he rested, he tried again to piece together what little he remembered. Thomas, for certain. But the identity of the other two men remained a mystery. They’d spoken little, not that he could recall their words. Only voices as his head had spun.
He closed his eye again and rested, willing the pain to subside so he could think of what to do.
The sound of lapping water became more pronounced. Oars sliding through the water, he realized. His heart pounded with fear. Had the men returned to make certain they’d finished the deed? Yet he could do nothing but lay there, fear nearly choking him. He knew with certainty he would not survive another assault.
The rhythmic sound drew nearer and his body tensed. Perhaps it wasn’t them. Perhaps it was someone who could help. He thought of Sophia, of Chanse and Braden. Surely they searched for him by now. He couldn’t simply lay here, waiting in fear.
Determination flooded him, and he lifted his head, trying to see who approached but cattails blocked his view. The steady rhythm of oars dipping into water told him whoever it was drew still nearer. He waited until the sound seemed close then called out, “Here.”
His voice did not resemble a human one. More like a growl from some feral animal. His mouth was so dry, his throat so sore. “Here.” His second attempt was only slightly better. The effort it took had him dropping his head to the ground again.
Apparently it worked as voices could now be heard, calling out to halt. A boat came into sight between the cattails. Did they see him? He called out again but was too exhausted to move this time. He could only hope he’d done enough to draw their notice.
“Found him.” Rough hands took hold of his arms, sending sharp pain through his ribs, his limbs, and he sank into darkness once again.
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