Macbeth's Niece (39 page)

“But when Jeffrey returned—”

Aidan nodded as if she were a pupil who had
learned her lessons well. “He had to be dealt with. To free you
from your ridiculous marriage and get rid of him at the same time,
what could be better than to arrange his apparent guilt in Cedric’s
murder?”

They had walked in a circle as Aidan
explained all this and were back where they’d started, with the
horse standing patiently by. At that moment, Tessa, who hoped
Hawick had moved far enough away to be no immediate threat, brought
her knee up sharply to Aidan’s groin, as she’d seen a boy do in a
fight once years ago, causing him to double over with a yelp of
pain. She grabbed the horse’s bridle and swung herself into the
saddle, at the same time turning the animal’s head and kicking it
fiercely in the side. The horse bolted up the bank clumsily, with
Tessa still trying to get a good seat in the saddle. She never saw
the arm that swept her from atop the horse. There was the sensation
of flying through the air, and then she landed on the sand and knew
nothing.

Aidan, still crouched over in pain, looked
up the riverbank to see Dougal pick up the small, limp frame and
heave it over his shoulder. “Put her in the boat,” he gasped
through tight lips. “She shall pay for that.” The man turned away
to hide the smile that crossed his face. She had humiliated them
all, but she was theirs now.

Tessa awoke to the sound of lapping water
and a bumping of wood on wood. She was in the boat, she discovered,
and the boat was still tied to the decaying pier. Every few seconds
the movement of the water caused it to hit the mooring post with a
soft clunk. She opened her eyes just enough to see her surroundings
dimly. A few yards downriver was a large tree whose roots extended
into the river, creating the small cove of still, shallow water
where the old dock sat.

In the relative protection from wind and
current provided by the tree sat Aidan, talking softly to Dougal
and warming himself by the fire. Dougal must have been standing
guard at the top of the bank earlier, unnoticed until she tried to
escape. A second man stood on the bank at the prow of the boat,
waiting patiently. The boat, a mid-sized vessel commonly used to
move goods up and down the Thames, was loaded with several wooden
boxes, a dozen small barrels, and some bundles wrapped in waxed
cloth, ready for departure. What was her destination? The question
was answered when Aidan, noticing she was awake, approached.

“Tessa, my love, are you well?” He said it
as if it were not he who had caused her situation. “We have not
much time, so here is what I have in mind. You have said you do not
want me. I accept that, but I want you. I believe you could learn
to love me, especially when I am Lord Brixton and you are my
lady.

“Here, then, is the choice left to you. You
may accept my proposal, and we shall be married tomorrow. There may
be some scandal, with your husband newly dead, but many will find
it romantic that we could not wait to be together. You will be Lady
Brixton and have everything my wealth can provide.”

Aidan stopped here to let his words sink in,
but Tessa gave him no reply, so he went on. “Or, if you prefer, you
may sail to Scotland with Hawick and his men. If you choose this
option, of course, I have no further business with you, and Hawick,
I fear, may treat you rather badly. Perhaps his men will, too. I
couldn’t say. A fate worse than death, I believe it’s called,
though death will probably come eventually.” The man beside him
guffawed but thought better of it when Aidan shot him a look.

“I might add that nothing you can do will
save your precious Jeffrey. If you leave with Hawick, your death at
my brother’s hand will be assumed by all, once I tell my story.
However, if you become my wife, I will do my best to help him
escape England. He will do well in Normandy or some such place
where men of military experience are prized. Word from Mairie
should arrive within the hour. You have that long to consider, then
stay or sail away, as you choose.”

Tessa fought back despair and fear. How
could she choose? Aidan was mad, driven by his lust for her and his
hatred for the Brixtons. How he must have despised them all! Still,
he’d been clever, appearing to be meek and helpful. It was only
when he drank too much that he’d showed his true, bitter self. She
remembered both Mary and Eleanor commenting on it, but they’d
dismissed it as the effects of wine, not realizing it was when his
inhibitions were removed that Aidan showed his depravity.

Could she live with a madman? The
alternative was so frightening as to make her blood run cold, but
at least Hawick would probably kill her in a few days, once they
tired of her. With Aidan she would have years of torture, might
even bear his children. Her mind could not accept all that had
happened, and she feared she would go mad herself. Curled up on the
deck of the small ship, she lay shivering and fighting back tears.
Aidan returned to chatting calmly with the outlaws, ignoring
her.

Suddenly Tessa felt something tug at her
dress. Startled, she gasped and looked down toward her feet.
Rivulets of water ran from behind a stack of crates on the deck.
Someone had come swimming through the frigid water and climbed
aboard. Glancing at the four men, Tessa assured herself they had
noticed nothing, paid no attention to her. “Please help me,” she
whispered.

“Are you hurt?” came a whispered reply.

“No.”

“Can you swim?”

“Y-yes.”

“When I tell you, jump overboard and let the
current take you downstream. Can you do that?”

“Yes.” She was more confident now. Better to
drown in the river than deal with two equally appalling
choices.

“When the water slows, you will be at
Oxford. Someone there will help you. I will come for you when I
can.”

“Jeffrey?”

“Yes.”

She almost sobbed aloud. “Jeffrey—”

“There’s no time, for we must act quickly.
Are you ready?”

“Yes.” She pulled her legs beneath her,
ready to spring.

“Now!”

With all of her strength, Tessa pushed
herself up and with the same motion dived into the river. She heard
the cries of surprise and anger from the men on shore, but she was
too busy fighting the current, the cold water, and her own skirts
to pay much attention. When she’d affirmed she could swim, she’d
been thinking of days in Scotland, cooling herself in the shallow
burns in only her shift. It was quite another matter to stay afloat
fully clothed in the mighty Thames. Kicking off her slippers, she
concentrated on keeping her head above the water, trusting the
river to carry her away without further effort on her part.

Chapter Thirty-Two

As Tessa did as ordered, Jeffrey Brixton
launched himself at the outlaws on the bank. The guard at the
boat’s prow he hit directly, full force under the chin with his
lowered shoulder, hoping to knock him unconscious before the others
could react. As he had hoped, the man fell limply onto the bank
with a grunt. Jeffrey rolled over, the damp ground cushioning his
fall, regained his footing, and assessed the situation. He had
cursed his lack of weapons at least five times in the last hour.
They had been taken from him earlier in the evening. Now he stood
defenseless while Aidan faced him calmly, a smile on his face and a
knife in his hand. At his side, Dougal hefted his sparthe
menacingly, all business. Hawick was not in his line of vision, but
there was danger there, too.

Tessa, in the water, heard a splash nearby
and looked up to see Hawick wading into the current downstream of
her. He had acted quickly for his size, and though she tried
frantically to avoid him, it was difficult to maneuver with her
skirts tangled around her legs. Hawick reached out, got a hand on
the fabric floating around her, and began pulling her out of the
current. Once in the cove, he clenched a powerful arm around her
neck, towing her backward as he strode powerfully toward shore. She
beat at him with both arms but could get no strength behind the
blows without solid ground beneath her feet. Ignoring her
struggles, Hawick dragged her into the shallows of the small cove.
He had some trouble pulling her along, so heavy were her clothes,
but he finally accomplished his task and stood over her, both of
them fighting to catch their breath.

“Stupid wench!” he shouted, striking her
once across the face. Tessa glared at him, unwilling to show any
fear. “You’ve made trouble for me for the last time.” Seeing his
intention, Tessa tried to avoid his grasp, but strong arms pushed
her shoulders down, sending her head under water, and he held her
there, his furious face hovering over hers as she fought against
him.

Jeffrey frantically parried blows from
Dougal’s battle-axe with a piece of driftwood snatched from the
bank. It was too short to be very effective, but he had no other
choice. Aidan danced on the outskirts of his reach, hoping to get a
chance to step in when his brother was absorbed with fighting off
the axe. Jeffrey was dimly aware that Hawick must be nearby, and he
knew he had to quickly defeat at least one of the two who faced him
or have all three to contend with. He said a quick prayer that
Tessa had gotten away safely.

Dougal made a mistake at that moment,
swinging the axe with all his weight at the spot where Brixton was,
but Jeffrey anticipated his move and ducked to one side. Dougal’s
momentum carried him past his target with a grunt, and Jeffrey
brought the stick down smartly on the man’s head as he stumbled by,
dazing him and knocking him to the ground. Knowing Aidan would take
that moment to make his move, Jeffrey spun quickly around, catching
Aidan’s extended arm with the stick as he tried to stab Jeffrey
from behind. With a howl Aidan dropped the knife to the ground.
Both men dove for it, both missed, connecting instead with each
other, and they went down, rolling on the ground in a desperate
struggle for dominance.

“Why didn’t you die in the sea, like a good
brother?” Aidan panted, his face close to Jeffrey’s.

“You were my brother once,” Jeffrey said
through clenched teeth, “but no more.” He gave a powerful shove,
and Aidan went sprawling onto his back, where he lay, winded, as
Jeffrey got to his feet. To his dismay, there was Dougal, who had
recovered from the blow on the head and came at him with a roar. He
caught Jeffrey in the chest, and they both went down. Dougal got
his hands around his opponent’s throat, and they struggled on the
slippery bank, Jeffrey fighting for breath. He tried to pummel the
huge Dougal’s ribs but could not get much leverage from underneath
the man’s bulk.

Suddenly Aidan screamed, “No, no stop!”
Dougal, surprised by the shout, relaxed his hold on his opponent’s
throat for an instant, which was what Jeffrey needed to make a
final effort. Putting both hands on the man’s chest and pushing
with all his might, he threw the outlaw to one side and rolled to
his feet, readying himself for another attack. Aidan, to his
surprise, rushed past him and down the river’s edge.

There Jeffrey saw what Aidan had seen.
Hawick held Tessa’s head under water as she clawed and scratched at
him wildly. So far she had managed to gulp air as Hawick dodged her
flailing arms, but she grew weaker by the moment.

Jeffrey followed Aidan frantically, not
knowing his intent. Aidan, still screaming “No!” threw himself at
Hawick, causing the outlaw to release Tessa as he tumbled onto the
bank. Aidan was on him in an instant, and the two rolled to their
feet as Jeffrey reached them. “See to her,” Aidan growled at him,
and Jeffrey waded into the stream to pull Tessa, to the shore.
Aidan circled Hawick, the two measuring each other’s remaining
strength.

“You should have let me finish her, lad,”
Hawick said with a grin. “She’s been nothing but trouble from the
first.”

Aidan made no answer but lunged fiercely at
Hawick. As he did, his facial expression became first surprised,
then pained, then blank as his knees buckled and he toppled
forward. Even Hawick stood frozen for a second, then scrambled out
of the way as Aidan fell face first in the mud. Dougal’s
battle-axe, its blade glinting dully in the firelight, protruded
from his back. Looking in the direction from which the weapon must
have come, they saw Dougal standing upriver, panting from
exertion.

Jeffrey rose, his body tensing, as Dougal
looked around him and spotted the knife Aidan had dropped on the
ground. He reached it just as Jeffrey did, and the two struggled
again on the ground for control of it.

Tessa tried to rise, her mind telling her
she must do something, but her knees would not hold her, and she
retched water from her burning lungs. She crawled toward the two
men wrestling in the firelight, determined to help. Seizing the
same branch Jeffrey had used as his weapon, she held it aloft,
trying to gauge the moment when she could be sure of hitting only
the outlaw and not Jeffrey. It was a mere matter of moments,
however, until she heard a strangled sound from Dougal. Jeffrey
rose to his feet as the last breath bubbled out of the man’s
body.

Jeffrey’s chest heaved as he pulled in great
gasps of air. One arm was bloody, but he was alive. He looked
carefully both up and down the bank. Hawick was nowhere to be seen.
Finally he staggered down to Tessa, who came unsteadily to meet
him, arms outstretched.

“Jeffrey! Are you all right?”

“I will mend,” he answered grimly. “And
you?”

“I am alive, thanks to Aidan,” she said
between gasps. “But Aidan killed Cedric! He is—he was mad.” She was
sobbing and talking at once, and Jeffrey held her tightly, feeling
her shivering through her wet clothes. Leaving her briefly, he
strode to the fireside, found a cloak and a blanket that had
belonged to the outlaws, and brought them over, wrapping the
blanket around Tessa and pulling the cloak around himself. Finally
he replied to her statement.