Catherine Coulter - Pendragon

THAT NIGHT MEGGIE'S shoulder hurt, to be expected Dr. Pritchart had assured her, but still Thomas was worried. But he didn't say anything, simply poured a tincture of laudanum in some barley water and handed it to her. He didn't move until she'd emptied the glass.

He held her until she eased into sleep.

It was very late, dark clouds obscuring the quarter moon that cast a watery light through the window when the cloth slammed down over his mouth. It took him only an instant to realize that it wasn't a dream. He lurched up, ready to fight, but something struck him hard on the head and he slumped back. The cloth was back, covering his nose and mouth. He was aware, on some level, that he was breathing in a sickeningly sweet odor that seemed to fill his lungs, that snaked to his belly, and that odor, even more than the blow, sent him deeper and deeper until he knew no more.

Meggie felt heavy, as if her body weighed more than one of the boulders on the Pendragon beach and someone was sitting on top of it. She didn't think she could move. She wanted to move. She managed to lift a hand, moan, and then her eyes flew open.

She felt light-headed and dizzy, a bitter taste in her mouth. At first she thought she was simply waking up in her own bed. She quickly realized she was wrong.

She didn't want to open her eyes, but she did, finally, and looked up into a man's face. At first she didn't recognize him. Then she said slowly, "The last time I saw you, you were lying on your kitchen floor, blood on your head and flour all over your apron."

"Ye're right smart, yer ladyship. Aye, the Grakers got me, now didn't they?"

"You're Bernard Leach of the Hangman's Noose at St. Agnes."

"Good memory in yer smart head. I remember thinking how purty ye were, and all fresh and innocent since ye'd been married jest the day before."

"We were going to stay at your inn. But it was deserted, just one lit candle in a front room. Thomas and I discovered your wife murdered, hanged. There was no one else there, just you, lying unconscious on the kitchen floor. It was the Grakers who did it, you said, then and you said it again. Then the next day you disappeared and so did the stable lad. Thomas and I remained with Squire Billings, but we couldn't find out anything more. Why are you here? Where are we?"

"Aye, it was the Grakers what brought ye here," Bernard said, and laughed, deep in his throat, and that laugh led quickly to a cough, a nasty watery cough that made Maggie's insides crawl.

"Them Grakers-bothersome little pixies, the lot of them. Don't they travel a lot, eh?" And he laughed some more. He started to cough again, stopped his laughter fast.

He looked even skinnier than he had before, his gray hair even more tufted and grizzled, so dirty and lank with oil it was matted to his head. He wasn't wearing a huge white apron now, but rough homespun that bagged on him. He wiped his hand over his mouth, trying to catch his breath, and Meggie saw a streak of blood on his palm. She said, "You're sick, Mr. Leach."

"Aye, that's as may be, but at least I'm not dead, not like ye will be, my little lady. It shouldn't o' been high tide, but it was. Then ye should o' broke yer back when ye hit the water. Bloody hell, that bullet should have laid ye out, but it didn't, now did it? Yer too lucky by far, ye are. Funny how I never considered high tide. A mistake, sure enough. Aye, I should have shot ye right through yer heart, but I didn't manage it. Nothing went right. Nothing seems to be going right for me these days. It's a right puzzle."

"My husband has known you all his life. Why would you wish to harm him by killing me?"

"Well, ye see, it's like this-"

"Do be quiet, Bernard."

Meggie looked beyond Bernard Leach's right shoulder to see Lord Kipper standing just inside the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest, wearing riding clothes, holding a single lit candle in one hand.

"Eh, she woke up, milord."

"Yes, I see that she did. You may go keep watch, Bernard. Oh, by the way, did you kill Thomas?"

Bernard Leach grunted, not looking at Lord Kipper.

"Did you, Bernard? While he was sleeping? While it was so easy since he was helpless, at your mercy?"

Bernard Leach darted a look at Lord Kipper, then his eyes slid away again. He was shaking his head, back and forth. "Oh no, my lord, I jest couldn't do that. Known him all his life, little Thomas. A fine boy, an excellent man. Only her, my lord, only her, and here she is. Not Thomas, I'll never kill Thomas. I'll jest not do it."

Lord Kipper sighed deeply. "We will speak of this later, Bernard. Go keep guard."

Thomas was alive. Meggie was so relieved, so very grateful to Bernard Leach that she would have given him everything she owned. Because he'd refused to kill Thomas even though Lord Kipper had ordered him to.

Bernard Leach nodded and took himself out of the room. It was a single room, rude, bare boards forming the walls and ceiling. A cottage of some sort, likely abandoned given the filth she now saw. It was dawn and gray light was seeping through the dirty windows. Years upon years of dirt.

"Where is this place?"

"Actually, you are in a storeroom just behind my stables. No, don't think you'll be rescued. No one ever comes here, particularly the men searching for Jenny MacGraff. Why would they? I am Lord Kipper, you know."

"Why do you want both Thomas and me dead?"

Lord Kipper shrugged. "I realized yesterday when Thomas and your father went around to ask each of us why we believed someone was trying to kill you that everything was collapsing about me. Someone, sooner now rather than later, would realize it had to be me."

"Someone?"

"Yes, Libby, of course. Even though I have her in my bed again, I knew I couldn't completely trust her to keep quiet if she did realize what I was doing. She's got an odd streak of honor. It only shows itself on rare occasion, but I really couldn't take the chance."

"I don't understand. Why did you think Libby in particular would realize the truth?"

He only smiled at her. "It's been a very long night, a night that has kept me quite on edge. I'm really not used to that. But the night is over and soon all this will be as well."

Meggie heard a noise. It was a soft moan, just a soft whisper really, the sound of someone barely conscious, moving around just a bit. Meggie tried to sit up, but her shoulder hurt very badly and she fell back. The dizziness hit her again, hard, made her feel as if she were floating for a moment. When the dizziness finally eased, when she saw him clearly again, Lord Kipper no longer looked remotely beautiful. His eyes looked dark and flat, he looked a bit mad. Lord Kipper, the person responsible for all this misery. At least it wasn't either of the mothers, thank God.

She licked her dry lips. "Who was that?"

"That was Jenny MacGraff."

Thank God was all she could think, Thank God . Jenny was still alive. "Why did you take her? Why is she here?

Did Jenny discover what you were doing and you were afraid she would tell everyone?"

Lord Kipper laughed. He pinched out the candle because the room was filled with the dirty light filtered through the filthy windows. "Jenny MacGraff is incapable of finding out anything, as you mean it. No, she is merely a simple merchant's daughter. She knows nothing, she is nothing. Nothing at all. Well, she is reasonably pretty and clean, her brain not too dulled by her breeding, and that does surprise me. No, she didn't discover anything. I merely wished to kill both of you together, when all the damned searching was finally over. I even plan to bury you together. I think that is quite fitting."

No, she wouldn't let his words freeze her, terrify her into madness, she wouldn't, but the paralyzing fear was there, deep inside her, taking hold, growing, getting stronger. Thomas knew she was missing. He would figure it out. She just had to stay alive. She had to use her wits. What were wits anyway? She had to try. Meggie drew a deep breath, said, "I don't understand, Lord Kipper. Why the two of us? Was William right? For some reason, you don't want either of the men of the house to be married?"