Chapter 59

Alicia shuddered from the cold and turned her face up to the roiling clouds, letting the rain pelt her bruised face. Fate must be smiling on her indeed, to create a foul storm just as she emerged from the trees that bordered Edward’s castle.

When the people of Firthgate saw her stagger into the keep—as wet as a drowned rat and shivering, her face still marred by injuries—her pathetic appearance would doubtless move them to mercy.

The English would never suspect she’d been the one to slay their lord.

And when she told them her story—that she’d been snatched from the keep by savage Highlanders who’d crossed the border, that they’d murdered Edward and her midwife Godit, that they’d taken her prisoner—they would readily believe it.

She’d name her abductor.

She’d disclose his location.

And she’d tell the English that the keep where the Highlanders were staying was ill-prepared for war.

No English soldier worth his spurs could resist such a prize. She’d bring them a perfectly good excuse to attack a poorly defended Scottish holding.

In exchange, her rewards would be threefold.

She’d absolve herself of Edward’s murder.

She’d punish Morgan for choosing that bloody wench over her.

And she’d earn admiration and respect from the English for her part in delivering to them a Border castle claimed by the Scots.

Once she was rid of Morgan, she’d find out who stood to inherit Edward’s holding. It would be a simple matter to court a new lover, to seduce her way into the bedchamber of the new lord.

As it turned out, her plan worked even better than she expected.

The new lord was Edward’s hotheaded brother, Roger. Not only was Roger enraged by Edward’s death, but he was eager to avenge it. When Alicia presented him vengeance on a silver platter, he gathered his army at once to launch an assault on Creagor.

By the time they crossed the border into the Scottish woods, the rain had stopped. By the time they reached Creagor, it was dark. They made a hasty camp in the haven of the forest, planning to attack in the morning.

Alicia had insisted Roger take her along, ostensibly to be his guide and to gain him easy entrance to the castle. But as she peered through the trees at the stately keep that would soon fall to ruin, she thought about Morgan and his cold countenance when he’d refused her in favor of that conniving wench.

He wouldn’t be so indifferent to her now. Not when she brought with her the new lord who’d come to seize his castle. Morgan deserved as much. And she couldn’t wait to see his face. In fact, she wouldn’t miss it for the world.

The castle was still slumbering when Jenefer stole from the nursery bed.

It was better to leave now.

Before Miles woke to tempt her with his irresistible grin.

Before she had to explain anything to Bethac. Or argue with Feiyan. Or face Morgan’s despair.

It was bad enough she had to reckon with her own.

Even after all the tears she’d spent last night, her eyes welled as she thought about the mac Giric clan.

To think she’d imagined Highlanders to be wild savages, vicious and brutal, who ate live rodents and bartered away their own children.

Never had she met a man who cared so tenderly for his child. As for Bethac, her gruffness hid the softest heart. And the archers she’d helped to train were patient and hard-working, the best apprentices she could hope for.

She knew if she delayed to bid them farewell, she might never leave.

Tiptoeing to the window, she peered out the shutters. The stars were invisible, obscured by a blanket of cloud that hung all the way to the ground. But the night had turned from coal black to iron gray. Soon the bakers would arise to warm the ovens for bread.

She would be gone before they woke.

Just as she turned away to take her cloak from the hook on the wall, she saw a movement in the mist, between the trees. She froze, staring hard at the spot.

After a moment, when nothing changed, she decided it must have been an owl or another animal on a late night hunt.

She started to close the shutters when she saw the motion again. Withdrawing into the shadows, Jenefer watched with astonishment as a pale figure emerged from the fog.

It couldn’t be.

Alicia had returned.

Jenefer’s heart plummeted.

She’d been so certain the woman was gone forever.

Surely Alicia didn’t believe Morgan would take her back. Surely Morgan wouldn’t consider forgiving her.

Yet, as she watched Alicia creep across the frost-rimed grass toward the gates, Jenefer had her doubts.

Morgan might be big and brave and brawny. A formidable warrior with a heavy targe and a thick cotun.

But Jenefer knew his true fatal flaw. Inside that armor beat a heart full of honor and compassion. Morgan would sooner cut off his own hand than harm his wife and the mother of his child. No matter how much she deserved it. He wasn’t so foolish as to throw caution to the winds. But his soft heart might leave him open to attack.

Someone had to watch his back.

The guards had been warned. They were not to let Alicia through the gates. But they’d surely alert Morgan of her return. And he’d go down to meet her.

Jenefer intended to be there when he did.

Miles began to stir fitfully in his sleep, as if he could sense his cruel mother was near. Before he could wake the others, Jenefer lifted him from his cradle and soothed him back to slumber against her breast.

Then, holding fast to the precious babe and peering through the crack of the nursery door, she watched for a messenger.

She didn’t have to wait long before young Danald knocked on Morgan’s door. But instead of following the lad downstairs, Morgan headed toward the nursery. Jenefer barely had time to retreat from the door before he came through it.

Startled to see her awake, he stopped short.

She hugged Miles close, wary of Morgan’s intentions. “What are you going to do?”

“Give me my son,” he replied.

“Nay.”

His brows rose in surprise, then lowered. “Give him to me.”

“Don’t do this, Morgan.”

Cicilia and Bethac, disturbed by the noise, began to stir.

“What is it ye think I’m doin’?” he asked.

“Don’t give him to her,” Jenefer said, clinging to the babe. “Don’t give Miles to that madwoman.”

From her pallet, Cicilia gasped. “Ye wouldn’t give the bairn to Alicia?”

“What? Alicia?” Bethac shook the cobwebs from her head. “He’s not that foolish. Ye’re not that foolish, m’laird. Right?”

Morgan frowned, no doubt irritated that he had to explain himself. “Nay. I’m not completely witless. I’m not givin’ him away. But Alicia is at the gates. And she’s his mother. She deserves to say one last farewell.”

The three women exchanged meaningful glances, probably thinking the same thing.

Bethac said it aloud. “I don’t trust her, m’laird. Neither should ye.”

“I don’t,” he said, “which is why I won’t let her within the walls.” He straightened with pride. “And I’ll be the one holdin’ Miles. No one will protect him like I will.”

Jenefer was somewhat placated by his answer. And she couldn’t help but notice he’d called his son Miles. He might think Alicia deserved to say goodbye, but he no longer considered the babe hers.

“Take your claymore,” Jenefer blurted.

Morgan arched a mocking brow, doubtless considering it a ridiculous notion to arm himself against a wisp of a wench like Alicia. He reached out and spoke with gentle insistence. “Give me my son.”

Plagued by misgiving, Jenefer could nonetheless think of no reasonable argument to prevent him. She reluctantly handed Miles to his father.

As soon as the door closed behind him, the worried chatter began.

Cicilia clasped a hand to her bosom. “Do ye think he’ll keep Miles safe?”

Bethac patted her arm. “I know he’ll try.”

“But will he succeed?” Jenefer said, biting her nail.

“What are we to do?” Cicilia said, sniffling.

“There’s naught we can do. Morgan is the bairn’s father,” Bethac said, struggling to her feet. “But I’ve got a bad feelin’ about this. I don’t trust Alicia.”

“Alicia?” Jenefer scoffed. “I don’t trust Morgan.”

Cicilia began wringing her hands.

Bethac shook her head. “That devil woman has ways o’ steerin’ Morgan,” she said, “makin’ him feel he’s done somethin’ wrong.”

Jenefer nodded. “And if she does that…if she makes him think Miles needs to be with his mother…”

“Do ye think he might give him o’er to her?” Bethac clapped a hand to her bosom.

A wail of woe escaped from behind Cicilia’s hands.

Jenefer scowled at the lump in the bed that was Feiyan. How her cousin could manage to sleep through the commotion, she didn’t know. But Jenefer had heard enough.

“I’m not going to let that happen,” she promised.

She shouldered her quiver and plucked up her bow.

“What will ye do?” Bethac asked.

“Whatever I need to.”

“Wait!” Bethac interjected, seizing Jenefer’s arm. “Whate’er ye do, lass, don’t harm her. Morgan will ne’er forgive ye.”

Jenefer nodded. She realized that. But Miles’ safety was more important than Morgan’s forgiveness.

She climbed to the top of the castle wall walk where she could keep an eye—and an arrow—trained on the treacherous woman.

True to his word, Morgan didn’t let Alicia into the keep. He motioned his approval to the guard at the palisade gates and met her just outside the wall.

At first, they appeared to be having a civil discussion. Morgan held Miles securely in his arms. Alicia’s head was bowed in a semblance of remorse.

Then she dramatically burst into tears, burying her face in her hands.

Morgan took a step forward, extending one hand to her.

She suddenly clutched his hand in both of her own and sank to her knees, like an urchin begging for bread.

“Shite!” Jenefer spat, knowing Morgan was about to be sucked into the whirlpool of pity Alicia had created.

When Alicia stretched her hand toward Miles, Jenefer tightened her grip on the bow.

“Oh nay, you don’t,” she muttered.

Before Morgan could surrender the babe for whatever it was Alicia had pleaded for—a last embrace, a final kiss, a fond farewell—Jenefer sent a shaft spiraling into the ground between them.

To her satisfaction, they both visibly started.

“Back away, wench!” she called down. “Or my next arrow will find your deceiving heart!”

Alicia came to her feet then. But she didn’t recoil in fear or enlist Morgan’s sympathy or make a desperate grab for her babe. Instead, she gave Jenefer an icy glare and then turned toward the palisade gates.

Jenefer followed the woman’s gaze through the swirling gray haze. And her eyes widened in horror.

Alicia hadn’t come alone. Dozens of soldiers began pouring through the gates, like ants boiling out of a nest.