Taming the Highland Bride (26 page)

Merry smiled faintly, her mind immediately moving to ponder their possible children and what they might look like as she asked, “How old is Godfrey?”

“Sixteen. Near a man, really, and much older than most boys are when sent away to squire, but as I say, I suspect his size and young looks have made his parents overprotective,” Alex murmured as he turned back to continue reading the missive.

Merry’s eyes widened with surprise. “Godfrey is indeed small and young-looking for his age. I would ha’e guessed him to be no more than twelve or thirteen. He barely has any meat or muscle on him.”

“Aye, well, he’s stronger than he looks,” Alex murmured, setting the letter on the table. He then gave her a quick kiss even as he got to his feet to move toward the kitchen. “Excuse me, wife, I forgot to ask him how he fared with the task I’d set him. We can continue this discussion about sending Edda away later in our room where prying ears will not hear.”

Merry nodded her understanding and watched him head to the kitchens before moving to join Edda by the fire as she’d promised.

“Alex looked annoyed,” Edda commented as Merry took the seat across from her and began to poke through the endless mending that needed doing. “Is Godfrey failing in his position of squire?”

“Nay. Well, I do not think so. Alex apparently sent the boy to the village after lunch and expected him back much sooner, but Godfrey got lost on the return journey.”

“From the village?” Edda asked with a bark of disbelieving laughter. She shook her head. “That boy is forever getting himself lost. He needs a couple of lessons in navigating ere he’s let loose again, else he’ll find himself in the wrong place at the wrong time and beset by bandits.”

“Aye,” Merry said, and decided she would mention as much to her husband this evening when they retired to their room.

“I need a refill on my mead, Merry,” Edda an
nounced suddenly, setting her sewing aside. “How about you?”

“Nay. I am fine, but I can fetch it fer ye, if ye like,” Merry offered, eager for an excuse to escape the mending. It was not one of her favorite tasks.

“Nay, nay, that is all right,” Edda said, getting to her feet. “My fingers are sore and stiff from sewing and I could use the chance to stretch my legs. You go on and get started, I shall return directly.”

Merry watched her go and then glanced down to the braies in her lap and grimaced. She really wasn’t in the mood for sewing, but it had to be done. She set to work, her thoughts wandering as she sewed, and then glanced up eagerly when the kitchen door opened once more and she saw Edda returning.

“I have decided I am rather weary tonight, Merry,” the older woman announced, pausing beside her chair. “I think I shall retire early and finish this tomorrow night.”

“Oh, all right,” Merry murmured, and then offered a smile. “Well, good sleep then, Edda.”

“Thank you, dear. And you, too. See you in the morning.”

Merry nodded and watched her head off, then glanced back to her sewing once more, but managed only one stitch before restlessness had her setting it aside and wandering to the trestle table. She thought she would wait there for her husband’s return and then suggest they, too, retire early. She was not tired herself, but was bored, and they might as well retire to their rooms where they could discuss Edda in privacy and decide how they were to approach her on taking a visit with her sister.

Merry settled at the table and began to toy absently with the letter from Godfrey’s father, rolling the scroll around on the tabletop as she waited. After another moment’s passing, she then unrolled the scroll for something to do and glanced over the contents with a bored eye. It was exactly what Alex had said it was, a letter from Godfrey’s father asking about his welfare and how he was working out as squire. It wasn’t until her eye slid to the signature that Merry’s ennui died an abrupt death.

“Lord Alfred Duquet,” she breathed the name aloud, her mind suddenly in an uproar. Evelinde had said Duquet was the name of Edda’s sister’s husband. Godfrey was Edda’s nephew? Surely Alex would have mentioned it, she thought, and then recalled his saying that he’d forgotten Edda even had a sister and could not recall her name. He didn’t know, she realized. And neither Godfrey nor Edda had mentioned it. Why?

Not for any good purpose, she decided with grim certainty and headed for the kitchens. This was something she needed to talk to Alex about at once. If Godfrey was Edda’s nephew, he might very well have been the one behind the attacks on their journey, she thought, and suddenly recalled that he was the first person she’d run into on bringing Alex back from the waterfall. He’d claimed—and she’d believed him when he said—that he was coming from camp to relieve himself, but now she wondered if he hadn’t been checking to see if his attempt had succeeded and his lord was dead. He certainly hadn’t continued on with his chore to relieve himself that she knew of.

Merry didn’t like to believe the thoughts now crowding her head, for she liked Godfrey, but this news placed suspicion firmly on his head…and Edda’s, she realized unhappily, suddenly sure the kind woman who had been so welcoming to her since her arrival was just a façade. Evelinde had been certain Edda could not have changed, but Merry had been sure she was wrong. Now, however, she tended to think her sister-in-law might be right. It still didn’t all make sense, but with this new bit of information perhaps she and Alex could sort it out. Or at least question the pair of them and get to the bottom of matters, she hoped, pushing the kitchen door open and peering around the busy room for her husband.

Her mouth tightened with displeasure when she didn’t spot either him or Godfrey, and then her gaze landed on Una chatting with the old servant, Bet, and she headed in her direction.

“Una? Have you seen Alex?”

“Aye. He took Godfrey up to the tower.”

“Whatever for?” she asked with surprise.

“Well, he was in here asking Godfrey about something he’d sent him to the village for when Edda came in and teased the boy about his complete lack of direction. She said only a fool could get lost on the way back from the village, or someone completely ignorant of navigation. She then asked Alex had he not taught the boy to navigate by the moss on the trees during the day and the stars at night.” Una grimaced and muttered, “The cow. She was making like ’twas all teasing, but she was criticizing him for all that.”

Merry felt her mouth compress, knowing Edda’s
words had probably felt as sharp to Alex as her own insult to his sense of responsibility when she’d suggested it was not well done of him to plan a trip to Donnachaidh without first tending to his men’s fighting skills here.

“I thought he’d snap at her, but no such luck,” Una said glumly.

Merry raised an eyebrow at the disappointment in her voice. Una’s comments made it more and more obvious that not only was she not warming to Alex’s stepmother, but instead she seemed to be growing a stronger antipathy to her, but Merry had no idea why that was. Even the maid could not explain it, claiming ’twas just a feeling she had about the woman.

“Anyway,” Una went on, drawing her attention back to her explanation, “yer husband decided he’d teach the boy what he could tonight and ushered him off up to the tower to train him in how to navigate by the stars.”

“I did not see them pass through the great hall.”

“Nay, he used the back stairs.” Una turned and gestured to a stairwell in the back corner of the room. “It meets up with the stairs from the second floor about halfway up.”

“Is there a guard on that tower?” Merry asked sharply, a bad feeling flowing through her.

“Nay. Well, there was, but he came down to find a warm drink just as Edda entered, and when Alex decided to take Godfrey up there, he said he’d keep an eye out and suggested the guard give his legs a stretch. He’s going to send for him when he’s done.”

“Then he and Godfrey are alone up there?” she asked with sudden alarm.

“Aye,” Una answered, and then asked, “What is it? Ye’ve gone all pale.”

“Godfrey is Edda’s nephew,” Merry muttered, and rushed for the stairs, suddenly sure her husband should not be alone with Godfrey.

M
erry was perhaps halfway up the winding tower staircase when Edda suddenly stepped out of the shadows a step or two above her. The woman’s appearance brought an abrupt halt to her headlong rush, and Merry eyed her warily and pressed a hand to the stone wall to steady herself.

“Edda,” she greeted, managing to keep her voice polite.

“Why, Merry dear, wherever are you headed in such a hurry?” Edda asked lightly, gracing her with one of her sweet smiles.

Merry considered her briefly, and then said, “I thought to go join Alex and Godfrey on the roof.”

“What a lovely idea,” Edda responded at once. “I could do with a bit of fresh air myself. Why do we not go up together?”

When she hesitated, wondering how to handle this, Edda suddenly slipped her hand out from behind her back, revealing a small but lethal-looking dagger with a jeweled handle. Her smile suddenly as sharp as the blade’s edge, she suggested, “Why do you not lead the way?”

Merry’s mouth tightened, but she had little choice but to do as Edda said and started forward. It wasn’t until she was passing Edda that she saw the door she’d been standing in front of. The door to the second floor, Merry supposed, stiffening when she felt the tip of Edda’s blade press into her back.

“I had a feeling you might be a problem when I saw your expression as you read the letter at the table. Godfrey told me it was from his father. You recognized the name, didn’t you?”

Merry nodded. “Evelinde said your sister was married to a Lord Duquet. I thought it too much of a coincidence that Godfrey’s father was also a Lord Duquet.”

“Hmm. I thought so,” Edda said, and Merry couldn’t help but notice that the sweet, affectionate voice was gone, a cold and even smug one in its place.

“I thought ye’d gone to yer room,” Merry muttered, continuing grimly up the stairs.

“I did, but only to fetch my knife. ’Twas as I was leaving my room and walking by the stairs that I
happened to glance down and see you seated at the trestle table in the great hall, reading the letter from Godfrey’s father.”

“Ye mean yer brother-in-law, do ye no’?” she asked dryly.

“Aye, he is that, too,” Edda admitted. “Though I’ve never had much use for either him or my sister. They are a pair of mealymouthed, whey-faced cows; perfect for each other, but hardly interesting otherwise.”

“And Godfrey?” Merry asked grimly.

“Oh, he at least shows
some
promise,” she said, and then clucked her tongue and added, “Unfortunately, he is young yet and prone to make mistakes.”

Thank God, Merry thought unhappily. Those mistakes were probably the only reason Alex still lived, and if she was lucky, he might make another tonight and she and Alex might yet get out of this.

“Speaking of my nephew,” Edda said suddenly, prodding her with the blade, “do move more quickly, Merry, I am eager to see that all is well in the tower. If Godfrey hasn’t erred yet again, Alex should already be lying broken on the stones below the tower.”

Merry prayed that wasn’t true and paused to peer back at her as she asked, “Why are ye doin’ all o’ this?”

“Because I am not ready to give up my position as Lady d’Aumesbery,” Edda said simply.

“Killing Alex would not achieve that for you,” Merry pointed out. “Neither will killing both of us. D’Aumesbery will merely go to Evelinde and Cullen and their heirs.”

“No, it will not,” Edda assured her firmly, and
jabbed her angrily with the blade for the suggestion.

Merry winced as it made a shallow cut in her back, but merely shook her head and continued walking. To her mind, the woman’s plan could never work. D’Aumesbery certainly would go to Evelinde and Cullen did Edda succeed in killing both Alex and her this night. The woman was obviously mad, she decided, and then reminded herself that being mad merely made her more dangerous. She then gave up trying to sort out Edda’s reasoning in favor of trying to anticipate what was coming and find a way to save both herself and Alex.

Unfortunately, she had little time to think. They had almost reached the tower by then, and all too soon they were stepping out into the starlit night. Merry immediately glanced around, searching out her husband, but any hopes she might have pinned on him died the moment she saw him lying unconscious before Godfrey. He had either fallen across the top of the parapet when Godfrey had attacked him unexpectedly, or he had fallen on the floor and Godfrey had so far managed to get him half over the bulwark. She could not tell if her husband was dead or just unconscious, but knew he must be one or the other for he was completely still and silent as the boy pushed and prodded at his limp form, trying to push him up and over the wall.

“Dammit, Godfrey! Can you do nothing right?” Edda snapped, urging Merry across the tower toward them. “Alex should be lying broken and dead in the bailey below by now.”

“Oh, aye,” Godfrey grunted, not bothering to
look around as he worked. “And if you think ’tis that easy, why do you not get over here and try to push him off? I have no stomach for this bit of business anyway.”

“That became more than obvious to me with your repeated failures to kill him on the way to and back from Scotland,” Edda said dryly, catching Merry’s arm and drawing her to a halt several feet from the pair. “Unfortunately, you shall have to manage it on your own as I am presently otherwise engaged.”

“Ha ha,” Godfrey snapped, sounding nothing like the sweet, shy lad she’d known since arriving at d’Aumesbery. It seemed Edda was not the only actor in the family. “Why do you not—”

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.