Maggie Mine (25 page)

Gerald strode by Maggie’s friend, towering over her and stopping in front of the locked door. He glowered at the woman he loved and they silently battled a moment. Holding himself stiff in anger, he turned his glower to Maggie but said nothing.

After a hairsbreadth of a second, he looked away; apparently unable to withstand the way she returned his glower with righteous indignation. She had no love
—
even like
—
for the man any longer. Not after he’d ignored her declaration of innocence and ordered her locked in this wretched dungeon.

“Fia,” Maggie croaked out, her throat too dry for speech. She stepped weakly forward. Her friend hadn’t forgotten her as it seemed everyone else had. She found some strength in that.

“Oh, Maggie. Dear God, jist look at ye!” Fia gaped at her and then punched Gerald in the arm with a fisted hand. “I will never forgive ye fer this. Never.”

Maggie smiled gently at her furious maid, wishing she could have punched the big man herself. “Even though I ken he believes he is trying to do right by his lord, I dinna think I can ever forgive him fer turning so quickly on his lady.” The words came out rustily.

Regret flashed in his eyes, but it didn’t change anything. She’d thought they were friends of a sort, that he knew her better than this. She turned her gaze from him, dismissing him as easily as he had turned on her.

“’Tis quite a muddle, this. If only Lord Middleham would wake up,” Fia said, her voice filled with worry.

Maggie’s stomach tightened, fear tightening an invisible noose around her neck. Her time was limited. She didn’t understand why he was still unconscious since no one would even talk about him to her. She stepped closer and asked in dismay, “Did he lose that much blood? So much that his life hangs on a thread? Has a fever settled in?”

Gerald growled low as if to warn Fia not to discuss Nicholas, but she ignored him. “Cook told me he lost a lot of blood before she could stop the flow. But it was the hard knock of his head against the desk and the large knot he gained that keeps him unconscious. Or so she thinks.”

“”Twasn’t enough you stabbed him, but you had to
—”

Fia dared to shove at him and he slammed his mouth shut in surprise. “I will
no’
listen to more of yer false accusations! More of the lies from
Lady
Stanope.” She said the word “lady” with disdain.

She focused again on Maggie, worrying her lower lip for a second. “Cook said his wound festered a bit with infection, but ‘tis better now. Yet he developed a fever a day ago. She’s more than a bit worried aboot that.”

“Oh no,” Maggie said in distress.

Fia blew out a breath of disgust. “I havena been allowed in his bedchamber. Only the cook and Lady Stanhope.”

Maggie glared at Gerald. “Lady Stanhope is helping care fer my husband?”

He had the good sense to take a step back. “The cook is elderly. She couldn’t watch over him by herself. Lady Stanhope said she’d be glad to help, insisted on it.”

“I’ll jist bet she did!” Maggie’s weak knees threatened to give in, but she fought against it, reaching out to hold onto the cold, rusty metal bars. “I doena want her near my husband!”

“You have no say in the matter,” Gerald stated grimly.

“I demand to see Nicholas.” She desperately needed to see him. Oh, God, what if it had been Mary who attacked him? What if she tried something again?

“No. You will remain here until he awakens.”

Hopelessness washed over her. Her shoulders slumped. “Is he at least being guarded?”

At first it didn’t look like Gerald would answer her, then he gave a curt nod. “Aye, a guard stays in the room at all times. Though with only Cook and Lady Stanhope there…
.
”

She could tell he didn’t see a reason for it, but he’d still ordered a guard. For that, she silently thanked him.

Fia had been looking around the small cell while Maggie and Gerald had verbally battled. Now she asked in horror, “They dinna give ye a cot? Just a worn blanket? What of food? Water? Ye look to be wasting away.”

Her gown hung on her and she knew she’d lost weight, but Maggie really didn’t care. She gave a shrug.  “I canna sleep anyway with the rats constantly after me.” She vaguely pointed at the trencher near her feet. “A guard brings me a scrap of bread once a day, but the rats get it first. A cup of stale water is brought as well. A small cup.”

Gerald had the decency to look uneasy. Maybe he hadn’t known how poorly she was treated, but it was his duty to know.

Fia stepped toe-to-toe with the big man, not the least bit intimidated by his size or by the way he glowered down at her. She hissed, “When Lord Middleham learns how ye’ve treated his lady, he will have ye thrown in here and left to rot.” She gave him a look meant to burn him alive. “I canna stand the verra sight of ye.”

Great sorrow filled his expression as Fia moved away from him. Maggie had little pity for him. If…
when
she got out of here, she would get as far from Middleham as possible. Even if that meant leaving Nicholas behind. She didn’t hold much hope of saving their marriage after this mess. And she didn’t think she could ever be comfortable with anyone here again.

“I will see that ye are brung bread and cheese, water as well. More than a
small
cup.” Fia reached through the metal bars to touch Maggie’s arm. “Dinna give up, my lady. The truth will come out.”

“If Nicholas doesna…
.
” Maggie swallowed the rest of the pain-filled words. Tears trickled down her grimy cheeks and she turned away, not wanting them to see her crying in earnest.

“He will be fine,” Fia declared. “I’ve sent a messenger to catch up with Sir Douglas. To yer brother as well.”

Gerald muttered, “Word has been sent to the king, too.”

Maggie felt the last of her hopes fading, felt sick to her stomach. But there was nothing left to retch up inside her. She’d long ago lost what little she
ha
d eaten four days ago. She walked to the moldy wall and sank to the floor. Her hopes lie with one unconscious man and with a man
—
her brother
—
who wouldn’t know her.

*
*
*

Fire blazed through his body, everywhere. Nicholas moaned and tried to turn over to his back, but he didn’t have the strength. Even the small attempt he’d made forced pain to whirl through him from his throbbing head and from a wound on his shoulder. What had happened to him?

A gentle hand touched his shoulder and he settled down.
Maggie
. Whatever was wrong with him, she would take care of him. He abandoned the attempt to open his eyes, to face the light of day just yet.

“She’ll never hurt you again.”

From somewhere in his fevered mind, he thought he heard Lady Stanhope’s voice. He frowned and then let the notion go away. He must have heard wrong. Only his beloved Maggie would be by his side now.

Hours later as sun slid over his heated face, Nicholas fought his way from the darkness that had been holding him prisoner. Sweat beaded all over his body. Pain and fire seared his back.  His throat was dry as the desert. He gasped out in a gravelly voice, “Maggie. Water. Please.”

But it was the white-haired, older cook who carried a cup of water to him. And Lady Stanhope who helped to hold his head up while he took a few sips.

Through bleary eyes, he focused on the cook, “Maggie…I need Maggie.”

She gave him a pitying look
and
sadly shook her head. “She isn’t here,
M
y
L
ord.”

Panic swelled within him. “Was she hurt, too?”
God, no. Not his Maggie!

The cook shook her head. “No,
M
y
L
ord, Lady Middleham isn’t hurt.” She blinked back tears. “At least I don’t think so.”

His head felt like it was splitting in two, but confusion worried him more. “What do you mean? You don’t think so.”

Lady Stanhope nudged the older woman aside and looked down at him with forced gentleness. “You’re too weak to talk of such troublesome matters. You need to rest.” She carefully touched his heated face. “I will take good care of you.”

Nicholas pulled away from her touch, repulsed by it. He grimaced at the action, at the pain of moving. “No.”

Gerald stood from where he’d been sitting on a nearby trunk and walked over to the bed. A grim expression etched his face. “You need to let the women take care of you,
M
y
L
ord. Your fever hasn’t broken yet. You need your strength back.”

“Maggie will tend me,” Nicholas insisted. He didn’t want any other woman touching him. The way they were all watching him with such concern bothered him. He wished his head didn’t ache so much that he couldn’t think straight.

The cook gently wiped his face with a wet cloth. “She can’t.” She turned a disgusted look up at Gerald. “They’ve locked your wee wife in the dungeon.”

He rolled over to be able to sit up and the pain of it nearly did him in. “Dungeon? What is this nonsense?”

Gerald shifted uneasily but stood his ground. “She tried to kill you,
M
y
L
ord. Stabbed you in the back with her dagger.” He raised his chin. “I had to put her in the dungeon. There are many here who would have hung her that very day.”

“Kill me? Her dagger?” Nicholas struggled to remain upright, unconcerned that he was naked and the linen rode low enough to nearly expose his lower body. “Hung her?” He couldn’t take it all in.

The cook was rubbing at tears streaking down her face. Her lips trembled. “I don’t believe it. Most of us don’t.”

Mary snapped, “You’re fools then.”

Nicholas looked at her and she immediately softened her expression, tears even misted her eyes. He shifted his gaze to Gerald. “Explain.”

His first, his long-time friend, held silent for a minute. Appearing resigned, he said matter-of-factly, “You were stabbed in the back while in your solar three days ago. Mary saw it happen. She came running to find me.”

Nicholas again fought to stay upright, fought against the fever threatening to steal his ability to listen. Finally he gave in to the need to lie back. He cursed as his wounded back touched the mattress. Then he concentrated as best he could on Lady Stanhope. “You saw the attack?”

She blinked back the tears he felt sure were forced. “I came to speak with you.” She swallowed hard. “But I heard movement in the room and thought you were with someone. I only stuck my head into the doorway for a second to see, in case I might still come inside.”

His head pounded once more. He bit back nausea. Not now. He needed to hear more. She’d evidently stopped at the expression on his face. He gave a curt nod. “Continue.”

She swallowed hard again, twisting her hands together in front of her. “I…I saw Lady Middleham walking up behind you. She…she pushed your head down against the desk. Hard. I hadn’t realized how strong she was. You appeared stunned, didn’t move.” She blinked, twisted her hands again. “Then she raised her little dagger. I was horrified. Before I could even call out, she thrust it into your back.”

“No. I don’t believe you.” Yet he remembered working on some missives he’d planned to send out. And he remembered feeling uneasy, like he wasn’t alone. Then he’d heard quiet footsteps.

“It’s the truth,
M
y
L
ord. I swear it.”

He closed his eyes, fighting pain that curled through his body. He felt again how his head had slammed against the solid desk. Remembered being dazed. Remembered someone slamming his head down another time and that was the last he recalled. He didn’t remember the dagger being shoved into his back. Blessedly, he didn’t remember that.

“Many of us heard Lady Middleham say that she wished you dead,” Gerald stated, interrupting Nicholas’s thoughts and forcing his eyes open once more.

“She didn’t mean it,” Nicholas countered. At least he felt fairly certain of that.
No. She’d only been upset with me.

Mary dashed at a tear sliding down the side of her face. “I’m so sorry,
M
y
L
ord. I would never hurt you this way if I didn’t have to. What I said is the truth. I saw your wife attack you.”

He didn’t want to believe it, but could Mary possibly be telling the truth? He hadn’t seen whoever attacked him. He was almost certain the light footsteps had belonged to a woman. And Maggie had been very upset with him the last couple of days.
But to try and kill me
? No, he didn’t believe it. Something was off here. Yet he knew the danger his wife was in now, understood why Gerald had locked her away. His men, his people, would expect immediate justice against an attack on their lord. Even if it had come from a woman he’d thought most of them had come to admire and like. She needed to be kept safely locked away until the matter was resolved…either way. He prayed
—
no, he knew in his heart
—
that she was innocent.