“Perhaps if you need some rest, Lord Roger will let you nap in his chamber.”
“I think that’s a good idea. I’ll see if I can find him in the great hall,” Sybil said as she brushed past Jennet and left the chamber.
She was afraid to ask but wanted to know. “Has Lord Roger’s temper cooled?”
“Aye. He was more reasonable when he returned, but you should be glad you weren’t here. He did ask after you.”
“Thank you,” she said.
Sybil nodded.
“Now, get some food and rest.”
Her friend pivoted and retreated down the hall.
After she left, Jennet locked the door and moved onto the bed that her friend had vacated. The skies were dark and dreary as thunderstorms fell over the area, shrouding them in a cool, damp day. She fell asleep, but when she woke, Eddie and Ada were both stirring.
She rushed around seeing to her patients, ordering food and wiping their foreheads with wet rags to keep fever at bay. She was thankful that they weren’t out in the worst of the weather. They both improved throughout the day as she told them stories and mended some stockings. She didn’t push the drink on Ada because it smelled like bitter fruit. Perhaps the batch had steeped too long, so she sent for some fresh mead.
Sybil returned late in the afternoon.
“I brought some broth and drink,” her friend said as she balanced a tray in her hands and bumped the door closed with her hip. It clicked in place.
“They’re both sleeping again, but much improved.”
“I will see to them for a while. Go down and eat. I’m sure you need to get out by now. I fell asleep in Roger’s room and didn’t intend to be away so long.”
“Aye, I believe I will. And you do look better rested.”
She hurried down the steps and took up a seat at the first available spot she saw in the great hall. From her vantage point, she could see her knight laughing and conversing with the guest of honor, Lord Marcus Debar, and their host. She looked forward to having him to herself tonight and hearing that deep amusement she knew was in his voice wash over her. She ate quickly, then ran back up to check on Eddie and Ada before heading to the bench in the garden.
When she arrived back in the room, Eddie was leaning over Ada, and Sybil was pacing.
“What’s happened?”
“She’s become delusional again. She’s calling out to people who aren’t here.” Her brother was frantic with worry. He looked as if he’d aged by years in the last few days.
“I’ll see to her,” Jennet promised. “Why don’t you go down to the village and see if you can find a healer before they close the gates for tonight? We still have a little bit of time before the bells ring for curfew.”
He hesitated.
“You need some fresh air, and there is a break in the weather. I can see to her.”
He rose and nodded. “I think we do need the healer.”
When he was gone, Sybil came up beside her.
“Can you go tell Giric I won’t be able to meet him tonight?” Jennet asked. “He’s at the table by Lord Yves.”
“Are you certain? I can watch her a while longer.” The worry seemed to have drained Sybil’s color. Her pallor looked almost as bad as Ada’s, and she feared her other friend would fall ill soon.
“No. I’ll stay until the healer comes.”
Sybil nodded and turned toward the door. “I’ll be back shortly,” she called over her shoulder.
A few moments later, Ada still mumbled, but she had settled into a more peaceful slumber. In between the worry for her friend, Jennet’s thoughts turned to Giric and how she would miss him this evening, but also that soon, they would have Eddie’s acknowledgment, and they would be wed.
The next morning, Giric woke alone in his bed, remembering the way he’d roused the day before. His cock hardened instantly. Although he’d quite liked waking with Jennet by his side and missed it this morning, he’d rushed from the bed yesterday to prevent himself from getting lost in her. It would have been so easy to kiss her, and he knew, in his aroused state, he’d have wanted to take things further.
He’d been disappointed when Sybil appeared by his side last night to inform him Jennet wouldn’t be meeting him, but it had afforded him the opportunity to get to know his host a little better. He’d even been invited to an early morning tour of Lord Yves’s land with a group of English nobles.
As they rode out, he took special notice of the landscape and the area where the melee would occur. Knowing the terrain would be useful when he made his move against Edward Linton. He’d not seen the man about yesterday. That was slightly concerning. What if Baron Bruton had seriously injured the man, and he didn’t plan to participate in the last event of the tournament? Giric would have to find the man that morning and challenge him if he was standing out of the final competition. His plan wouldn’t work if he couldn’t capture the man.
Giric turned his attention to the man seated on a horse just ahead of him, the host of this extravagant gathering. Since Lord Yves lived so close to the Scottish border, King William wanted to know what kind of man the baron was. Giric had made some headway the day before in his assessment of his character.
The dark-haired English lord had a hard, chiseled visage and stood a good half-head taller than him. He reminded Giric of the tales he’d heard of Roman generals. In his research, he’d discovered that the baron was an experienced warrior, and although he was only in his early forties, he was widowed.
Lord Yves kept steely-eyed armed guards near his side at all times. He could be charming and was a gracious host, but his eyes were cold. Giric could see he held his secrets close and kept his enemies guessing.
Lord Yves was powerful and rich. Everyone present knew that by the pageantry of this tournament, but King William had wanted to know the man’s heart. Giric had always been a good judge of character—that was why the king assigned him this mission. What lay beneath this man’s aloof behavior, and was the granite layer behind his façade set in stone?
Knowing this was to be a short outing because Lord Yves had to get back early for the day’s events, Giric trotted up next to him. “Ye have lovely land for it being in England. Must be because yer so close to yer Scottish neighbors,” he jested.
“I prefer the air up here in the north. Perhaps your king would come to visit sometime or invite me to his court.” The man smiled, calculated and reserved.
“I’m sure he’d be pleased to host ye.”
“I haven’t seen you in the jousts.” His words were casual, but it was a question regardless of the feigned indifference. Giric knew the man was enquiring about his purpose here.
“Hand-to-hand combat is more to my liking. I’ll be participating in the melee.”
A large blond man with a crooked nose inched up beside them. Lord Yves nodded an acknowledgment to the newcomer then turned his attention back to their conversation.
“Ah, I like a man who knows his strengths and sticks with them. The king must be proud of his nephew.”
Ah, so Lord Yves had researched him as well.
“Aye, I agree. What are yer strengths?”
“Taking care of my home and my people. It’s important to have your priorities in order when you live in a hostile environment.”
He thought he understood what the man was saying. The lord was like a clan chief, and Giric knew this mentality. God, clan, country was a rule he lived by and, he respected anyone else who did the same. With just these few words, he was confident that he could tell King William that even if Lord Yves were planning a rebellion with King Richard’s brother, in the end, he would side with whoever ensured his people and lands were well cared for.
Giric asked no more questions, and since Lord Yves apparently had meetings he needed to attend, their host left shortly after with his guards to return to the castle. Giric continued on with the others for a little while longer as they explored the rest of Lord Yves’s land.
It was still early mo
rning when he returned. After stabling his horse, Giric rounded a corner of the castle to see Edward Linton having a heated argument with the Earl of Bruton, the man who had unseated him in the joust.
How fortuitous to come across them and learn that Edward was healthy and whole after his defeat. Some pressure eased from his chest. He would be able to find his revenge, but he needed to know why these men were still arguing. Had they not left their differences on the jousting field? He moved closer but turned his back to them as he pretended to inspect the architecture of the castle.
“Have you told her yet?” the man asked Edward.
“No, I haven’t had the opportunity. I cannot blurt out ‘I’m going to force you to wed Roger.’”
“You have to tell her soon. I expect for us to wed here before we leave the tourney.”
“Please, Roger. I have to approach this gently.”
Giric peeked over his shoulder. Edward was drawn and pale. He held his hand to the stone wall to steady himself. Perhaps he had reinjured his leg when he’d lost the joust. How was he to have a fair battle with the man if he were impaired? He squashed down the guilt he felt. He’d waited too long for this.
“I already told her we would wed.” The earl stood rod straight, confident that he was in charge.
“And was she agreeable?” Edward shook his head as if he were confused.
“She said some nonsense about someone else courting her. Well, you have chosen, and the deal will be done.” Lord Roger sounded cold as if he were selling cattle instead of choosing a wife. He’d be sorry for Edward’s sister if she weren’t his enemy’s daughter.
“It’s not that easy. You know our past.” Edward’s voice lowered, and he glanced around as if trying to keep a secret.
“Inside. Let’s break our fast while we discuss the dowry.” The earl ignored Edward’s protest and marched off, fully expecting the baron’s son to follow behind.
Roger Nash would be an awful husband to any lass unlucky enough to be tied to him…but that wasn’t Giric’s concern.
Chapter 11
Jennet was happy to see Ada had made some improvement during the morning. Enough so that Edward had finally left the room to get some air. Last night, the healer had wanted to blood-let her friend, but Jennet couldn’t stand the sight and the coppery smell, so she had to tell the man no. Instead, he’d left herbs and instructed her to make a brew with it and hot water. She’d done so, but now that her brother’s betrothed was able to sit up, Jennet wanted to get something else in her belly.
Even though little time had passed since they’d broken their fast, she sent Sybil down to procure some fresh mead, bread, and cheese. It was as much to get her fidgety friend out of the room as it was to help her sick one. Sybil had tossed and turned all night, keeping Jennet from sleeping, and she’d been pacing the morning hours away, twisting her hands around the links of her clanking chatelaine and causing Jennet’s nerves to stand on end. When her friend did return, she’d probably send her away somewhere else, so she wouldn’t be hovering like a stableman waiting for a mare to give birth.
As she waited for Sybil to return and watched the rising sunlight, she wondered where Sir Giric was. She didn’t want to lose another moment with him, but her friend came first. She was just contemplating sending him a message to come to her chamber when Sybil walked back into the room.
“How’s she doing?”
“Much better,” Ada answered, then winked at her.
Sybil froze at the sound of her voice. Her shoulders drooping, she trudged farther into the room. “Are you sure you should be up like this?”
“Aye. I’m feeling the worst has passed.”
Sybil set the tray down on the table. “Well then, good. This should help.” She picked up the glass nearest her, strolled over, and handed it to Ada.
Ada lifted it to her lips, and then her nose twitched, her cheeks pinching up as if it were sour. “It smells awful. Perhaps I was mistaken. I don’t think my stomach is up for it yet.”
“Let me see.” Jennet reached for the cup and sniffed. “Argh. It smells like rotting plants. Is that what they gave you in the kitchens? I’ll have to let the servant know the mead has gone bad.” Rising, she walked over to the tray to set the cup down.
She picked up another cup and sniffed it. “This one smells sweet, normal.” Grabbing the remaining one, she did the same. “This one is good as well.”
Turning to Sybil, Jennet noticed she was fiddling with her belt again. “Will you stop that, please? The rattling is making my head ache.”
Sybil froze and cupped her hands around her chatelaine as if she were hiding something.
Jennet’s face paled. A memory flashed in her head. Ada drinking wine, then sharing it with Eddie, just before Sybil knocked the cup over. Trepidation flooded her like cold water was being dumped on her head. It slowly dripped to her toes as an awful suspension took root.
“What is that in your chatelaine?” Jennet asked.
Sybil stilled. Her eyes grew large, and she appeared to stop breathing as her gaze shifted from her to the floor then back again.
Jennet took a step closer and reached for Sybil’s chatelaine. Her friend retreated. “Sybil. Why will you not show it to me?” She was confused, but the emotion quickly turned to mistrust. And she hated the feeling as it sludged through her veins.
“It’s nothing.” Sybil clipped the words and drew her shoulders back.
“Then let me see.”
“It’s just some drops for my eyes. The healer gave them to me before he left.” She knew this was a lie. Sybil hadn’t even been in the room when the man had come up from the village to see Ada last night.
“Belladonna?” She studied her friend’s eyes. They bore no tell-tale sign of the drops used to entice men by making one’s pupils appear enlarged. She had a vague understanding of what the nightshade plant could do to a person. They could make one’s eyes look shiny and full.
Or they could be used as a poison.
She lunged and grabbed the vial on the belt. Sybil tried to swat her away, but Jennet was able to get her hand on it. Pulling it to her, a snap rent through the air when the small clasp holding it to the belt broke. Jennet opened the bottle and smelled.
“Did you put this in Ada’s drink?” Anger and disbelief warred in her mind.
Shaking her head, Sybil backed to the door just as it swung open. Eddie and Lord Roger strode in. Her brother as solemn as when he’d heard the news of their oldest sibling’s death and Lord Roger was wearing the closest thing to a smile she’d ever seen on the man. She focused her attention back on the woman in front of her, who had been her childhood friend.
Sybil had tried to kill Ada.
Fury erupted from her throat as it vibrated and clawed through her. “Why?” she questioned, ignoring the men.
Chills spread down her back as her thoughts turned to the alley, a man coming at her and Ada with a knife. Glancing back and forth between them as if he weren’t certain who to attack, then Sybil pulling her back and leaving Ada exposed.
Sybil shook her head. “No.” The word was a squeak, barely audible.
“And in the village. You paid that man.” She could hear the disbelief in her own voice, but the truth began to take shape in her mind.
Sybil hung her head, then turned as if she’d run from the room.
Eddie held his arm out, blocking her path. “What’s going on here?” He shut the door and bolted it.
Jennet clenched her hand around the vial of poison. She’d never felt rage so raw. Pointing at Sybil, she let her gaze travel to the men. “She tried to kill Ada.” A gasp escaped, and she pinned Sybil with the accusation. “Did you try to kill Eddie too?”
“No.” Horror flashed on her face. “That was an accident. He took Ada’s cup.” Moisture pooled in Sybil’s eyes, and she folded her arms around herself.
“Why?” This time the heated words came from her brother.
“Because you should have chosen me.” Sybil
tilted her chin up and drew her shoulders back.
“What?” He seemed genuinely perplexed. Sybil cringed and for a fraction of a moment, Jennet felt pity for her as tears welled and fell down her cheeks. Eddie had never noticed the way she worshiped him.
Sparing a glance over her shoulder, she saw Ada watching the affair, her own eyes wet with unshed tears, and her jaw slack in disbelief.
Sybil continued, “I’m an earl’s daughter and a better match for you.” Her face was fixed on Eddie’s. She started toward him, and he held up a hand. Then her regard turned to Roger. “And I cannot live in his house another minute. I feel like a servant, and he plans—”
Lord Roger’s voice was cold and clipped as he cut her off. “Well then, sister. I can remedy that. I will help the baron escort you to the village where we will meet with the magistrate. I am sure he has lodgings for you.”
The earl’s face was granite. It was as if he had no feelings for his sister at all, or perhaps she’d damaged his pride. Jennet couldn’t imagine Eddie ever being so distant to her, but she’d never tried to murder someone.
“How could you? We were friends.” Ada’s voice trembled from behind her.
“I’m sorry, Ada. But I love him, and I’d be the better wife. I didn’t want to hurt you.”
“She must have paid the man in the village to attack me as well.” Ada’s gaze turned to Eddie. He nodded.
Sybil reached for Eddie again, but Roger clasped her arm and yanked her toward the door. “Let’s take her to the village.”
“Yes.” Eddie’s voice was frigid. “We should take her now.” He hurried over to the bed and hugged Ada. Then he whispered something in her ear, and she nodded.
When he stood, Eddie glanced toward her. “Take care of her, Jennet.”
“Aye, brother. I will.”
She couldn’t meet Sybil’s eyes as the woman wailed, and Roger dragged her from the room.
When the door shut behind them, she turned to Ada to see her face had gone pale. For a moment, Jennet was afraid she’d had more poison. “Are you feeling okay?”
The Highland Knight's Revenge Page 9
