“You look tired, lass.” Richard’s head came up from the rose he was tending.
“Aye. I did not sleep well last night.” Brenna glanced around. “Is Adrianna not with you?”
“Nay. She and her sister are visiting with the queen. I thought you would be with them.”
“I sent my regrets. I have been searching for you.” She licked her lips. “You once said that if I desired to talk, you would be here to listen.”
Richard placed the shears in his lap and leaned forward in his wheeled chair. “What is it, lass? What troubles you?”
“Oh, Richard.”
He saw the tears that welled up in her eyes.
“I cannot tell you without betraying a confidence. But I fear I have done a terrible thing. If Morgan learns of it, he will never forgive me.”
“You, lass?” Richard took her hands in his and stared into her eyes. “You are the best thing that has ever happened to my brother. You have brought back all the love, all the laughter, that had been buried beneath so much pain. Because of you, Morgan has learned to live again, and laugh again. And what is more important, trust again.”
Trust. Brenna felt as if her heart would break from the pain. “By helping a friend I may have destroyed his trust forever.”
Richard leaned forward and touched a finger to her lips to silence her. “Listen to me, Brenna. I had not thought it possible that Morgan would ever recover from the pain of his youthful marriage. What you have done for him is nothing short of a miracle.”
“I do not understand. Why was he left so bitter and angry?”
“When a man is young and honorable, he believes that the whole world is the same. It is shattering to discover that some people are so shallow, or so cruel, that they have no regard for anyone but themselves.”
Richard leaned back, feeling the sunshine warm upon his face. “My brother was hardly more than a lad the first time he went to his marriage bed. No more than twenty. And she but ten and five.”
“What was her name?”
A slight frown furrowed Richard’s brow. “She was the queen’s cousin, Catherine Elder.”
The queen’s own cousin. Timidly Brenna asked, “Was she very beautiful?”
“Beautiful enough to turn the head of every man at court. She had hair the color of a gold sovereign, and a full, ripe figure.” Richard’s frown grew. “But Morgan was not the only man in love with her. There were many men who paid her court.”
“But of all the men who sought her, Morgan was the one who won her hand.”
“Aye, lass, but the price he paid was not worth the prize.”
“I do not understand.”
“Morgan may have won her hand, but another won her heart. She came to her marriage bed carrying another man’s child.”
“How horrible.”
“Aye. Other men would have had her put away. But Morgan was too tenderhearted for his own good. He reasoned that he would save the lady’s honor, even though everyone already knew she was sullied. The other man had refused to do the honorable thing. So Morgan endured the humiliation. But within weeks of their marriage, she fell once more under the spell of her former lover.”
“Did no one know his identity?” Brenna asked.
“Nay. She refused to tell even her family who the man was.” Richard shrugged. “At the time, we thought she was simply so in love, she could not bring herself to speak of him. But later, when it was too late, we realized that she had been warned by this man not to reveal his identity under threat of death.”
“How could he claim to love her and still threaten her life?”
“Catherine was too blinded by passion to ask that question, lass. She simply wanted to believe that the rake loved her. But he was merely using her. He coerced her into stealing from Morgan’s considerable fortune. This went on for several months, and may have gone undetected even longer had not the man become greedy.”
Picturing a youthful, noble Morgan, Brenna felt the sting of tears. She quickly blinked them away. Though it pained her to hear of Morgan’s past, she was now compelled to hear all of it.
“In the library Morgan discovered a strongbox opened. The contents were missing. When he confronted Catherine, she admitted that she had given them to her lover. Morgan flew into a rage and ordered her to tell him the name of the man who had dragged her to such depths.”
Brenna sat very stiffly, twisting her hands together until the knuckles were white from the effort. In her mind’s eye she could see the young, honorable Morgan being consumed with rage and allowing his heart to harden forever. “What happened then?”
“Catherine must have feared Morgan’s rage more than her lover’s. She agreed to fetch the contents. She was gone so long that Morgan sent servants out into the countryside to search for her. Late that night she was found along the road, bruised and bloodied beyond saving. She had been run through by a sword. With her last breath she begged Morgan’s forgiveness, then told him she had once truly loved him, but she had been persuaded to give in to the lustful desires of another. She admitted that she had wanted a father for her child, and had hoped that she could be a good wife to him. But her lover’s hold on her was too strong to break. With her last breath she begged Morgan’s forgiveness. In her hands she clutched the contents of the strongbox.”
Brenna felt her throat go dry. She suddenly knew without asking what the contents of the strongbox were. Running her tongue over her lips she whispered, “Tell me, Richard. Did the box contain the Grey jewels?”
“Aye, lass. The Grey jewels. Including the pieces Morgan gave you the other night. When I saw you wearing them, it was the first time they had been out of that box since that terrible night.”
God in heaven. What had she done? Brenna felt a wave of nausea. Windham had coerced her into doing the one thing Morgan could never forgive.
With her hand to her mouth she let out a cry and bolted from the garden.
~ ~ ~
“I must speak with Lord Windham.”
As Brenna entered Windham’s chambers a servant looked up from her chores. “Lord Windham is gone, my lady.”
“Gone? Where?”
“He said he had urgent business at the Crooked Tree Inn in the village.”
“When is he returning to Greystone Abbey?”
“He is not, my lady. He took all his things with him, in preparation for his departure to London.”
London. Brenna felt a wave of panic. He must not be allowed to take the jewels to the city. She must get them back before it was too late.
Hurrying to her room, Brenna pulled on a traveling cloak and called to Rosamunde. “Order a groom to saddle a mount.”
“But my lady...”
“Now, Rosamunde. Hurry. There is no time to explain.”
Minutes later Brenna flew down the stairs and out into the courtyard, where a groom stood holding the reins of a horse.
As Brenna pulled herself into the saddle Rosamunde called, “If my lord Morgan Grey should ask, where should I say you have gone, my lady?”
“Tell him I have gone to retrieve something of value. And when I return I will explain everything.”
She urged her mount into a run. And as they covered the miles to the village, Brenna’s heart matched the thundering tempo of the horse’s hooves. What had she done? God in heaven. What terrible thing had she done?
~ ~ ~
Though it was early afternoon, the public room of the Crooked Tree Inn was filled with the laughing, raucous voices of tradesmen and travelers.
Brenna stood just inside the entrance, uncomfortably aware of the curious glances from some of the patrons. A serving wench whispered in the ear of a big coarse man dressed like a sailor. He laughed, then pulled her down on his lap and kissed her soundly. With a playful slap at his shoulder, she looked up, straightened her skirts and made her way to Brenna.
“Yes, miss. What would be your pleasure?”
“I am looking for Lord Windham. Recently arrived from Greystone Abbey.”
“Aye. A fine, fancy man with golden hair and eyes that undress ye every time he looks at ye?” She seemed to assess Brenna for a moment, then gave her a conspiratorial smile. “His lordship said there’d be a fine lady along soon.”
Her words caused Brenna to blink. Had he arranged a tryst with someone? He would not take kindly to her interruption. She would have to beg his pardon and conclude her business quickly.
“His lordship’s having a meal in his room. Second floor.”
“Thank you.”
Brenna climbed the stairs, rehearsing the things she would say to Windham. She would appeal to his honor as a gentleman and as a friend of the queen. She would remind him of the hospitality shown by Morgan while Windham was his guest. And if all else failed, she would beg him to return the jewels and she would agree to sign a document attesting to her debt on Cordell’s behalf.
She knew that she was taking a dangerous risk. But she no longer had anything to lose. If she tried and failed, she would lose Morgan. But if she did nothing, she would still lose Morgan. One desperate thought echoed in her mind. If she succeeded, she would have everything her heart had ever desired.
She paused outside the door, then lifted her hand and knocked.
“Enter.”
Brenna stepped inside.
Lord Windham sat before a cozy fire, enjoying a sumptuous meal. His smile was dazzling.
“My lady. Come in. Join me in a celebration feast.”
“Forgive my intrusion. I will be but a moment.”
“Nay.” His evil smile grew. “You are a part of the celebration.”
She felt a sudden chill at his words. “What are you celebrating, my lord?”
“A new era for England. A time of great wealth and power for me.”
“Wealth.” She misunderstood his meaning. “You mean the Grey jewels. About those jewels, my lord...”
“These?” He held up the little pouch, and Brenna took a step closer.
“Aye. I came to ask that you return them.”
“Of course you did.”
“You do not mind?”
He threw back his head and laughed. “Mind? My lady, it is exactly as I had planned it.”
She paused, puzzled by his words. “I do not understand.”
He lifted a goblet of wine to his lips and drained it. Scraping back his chair he stood. “Come closer, my lady.”
When she hesitated, he caught her roughly by the arm and dragged her close.
His voice, which only seconds ago had been jovial, was now low and deadly. “When I give an order, you must comply immediately. Do you understand?”
She felt the sting of his hot breath and was reminded of the man who attacked her in the night. Her eyes widened. “It was you. That night in Morgan’s room. It was you.”
He gave her an evil smile. “Do you remember the lesson I taught you?”
Without thinking she touched a hand to the scar on her arm.
He pulled out a chair and ordered her to sit. When she refused he brought his hand across her face, slapping her so hard it snapped her head to one side.
“Now,” he said, as quietly as if nothing had happened, “you will do as I order. Sit down.”
It was as she had known the night of her attack. Only a madman could behave in such fashion, one minute calm, almost serene; the next vicious.
Her hand went to the knife at her waist. As if reading her mind, Windham twisted it viciously from her hand and gave her a crashing blow to the temple.
Stunned, Brenna sank into the chair and watched as Windham pulled out a scroll and began writing. When that note was finished he wrote a second, then tugged on a cord. A few minutes later the serving wench stood at the door. Windham handed her the notes and several coins, then gave her detailed instructions on how the notes were to be delivered.
He sat down at the table, filled his goblet and drank.
“We should not have to wait too long.” His eyes glittered with a feverish light. “Then everything that was once Morgan Grey’s will be mine. Including you, my lady.”
~ ~ ~
The queen read the note that had been delivered, then gave a little cry of pleasure. “What a perfect ending to my visit at Greystone. Morgan says that the weather is improving.” She lifted her skirts and rushed to the window. “Aye. Though it is still quite misty, I can see the sun breaking just beyond those trees.” She tossed down the missive and turned to her ladies. “We must hurry and change into suitable clothing. We are going on a hunt.”
~ ~ ~
Morgan looked up from the ledgers as Mistress Leems entered.
“There is a messenger here from the village, my lord.”
“Show him in.”
Morgan waited until both messenger and housekeeper had gone, then unsealed the scroll. Something fell from the scroll and dropped to the desk. An earring, Morgan realized as he picked it up. His eyes narrowed. An earring made of dazzling diamonds and amethysts.
He read the words with a growing sense of revulsion. For long minutes he stared into the flames of the fire, reliving all the shame and pain and horror of his past. With a savage oath he tore the message into small pieces and dropped them one by one into the flames. Then he strode across the room and picked up his sword.
This time they were not dealing with some pink-cheeked lad whose head was filled with noble thoughts. This time he would dispose of the lady himself. And her lover.
As he raced from the room the words of the message rang in his mind.
“I have once again seduced the woman you love. And this time she has brought me your treasure even before the wedding. I have enclosed proof of her loyalty.”
~ ~ ~
Through a haze of pain Brenna watched as Windham calmly continued eating his meal. Her head still swam from his blows. She struggled to clear her mind. Somehow she had fallen into a trap. He had said he was expecting her. But why? And what had the jewels to do with all of this?
So many pieces to a puzzle. But until they were all in place, she was left with only questions. She must bide her time. And watch for a chance to escape.
“So you came for the jewels?” He broke off a joint of fowl and began to eat.
Brenna was instantly alert. “Aye.”
“Has Morgan missed them?” He washed down his food with a swallow of ale.
“Nay.”
“So.” He grinned. “Your conscience has gotten the best of you.”
“Aye. I had no right to give away what was not mine.”
“And what about that which is yours to give?”
His gaze roamed the bodice of her gown, making her feel soiled. She thought about the serving wench’s description of Windham. His eyes were undressing her.
She gauged the distance to the door. She would never make it. But if she were to find some way to distract him, she might be able to run to safety.
“I am not loose with my favors.” She struggled to hide the revulsion she felt at the thought of this man’s touch. “And your own queen has decreed that I am to be betrothed to Morgan Grey.”
“You are not yet betrothed. Besides—” he smiled and dropped the linen napkin on his plate “—if Grey were dead, you would be free to wed another.”
Dead? Morgan? Was this what it was all about?
Lord Windham scraped back his chair and strolled to the window. He watched as a horse and rider moved up the lane in a cloud of dust. There could be but one man who would whip his mount into such a frenzy. He felt a curl of excitement begin deep inside him.
He heard the slight swishing of skirts and turned just in time to see Brenna racing toward the door.
As her hand closed over the door pull, Windham caught her by the hair, yanking her head back with such force that tears stung her eyes. He slammed her against a wall, then pinned her there with both hands firmly against her shoulders. When her eyes could focus, she realized he was holding her knife, the knife Morgan had given her, to her throat.
His face was inches from hers. His eyes blazed with fury.
“Little fool. Did you think I would get this close to my goal and let it slip through my fingers?”
“It is Morgan, isn’t it?” Brenna felt herself very close to hysteria. “That is what you scheme. To somehow lure Morgan here and kill him.”
His shrill laugh sent a new wave of fear coursing along her spine.
“Your lover is already here. Any minute now he will step up to meet his death. But Grey is only half of the plot. The other half is even better.”
Brenna felt the cold steel of the blade as it was pressed to her flesh. She was certain that nothing could cause her more pain than the thought of Morgan’s death. But Windham’s next words caused her to freeze in absolute terror.
“When Grey is eliminated,” he muttered, “the queen will be without her protector. And the future of England will be in my hands.”