Wildly Romantic: A Multi-Genre Collection Page 15

  “Damn me.” The man’s voice sounded just outside the stable door at this end.

  As Garrick approached, he heard the sound of footsteps fleeing into the darkness. After glancing about to make certain the other man hadn’t remained behind, he hurried after them. But pursuit was futile. He couldn’t tell what direction the men had fled once the echo of footsteps faded.

  Garrick paused to listen at the cross-street. Nothing. Though he walked farther, no additional noises drifted his way.

  Frustrated, he turned to make his way back to the inn, moving slowly so as to avoid walking into a trap.

  Each day in this city brought more questions than answers. He was gaining no ground with his mission. Doubt followed him with each step he took. Perhaps he should’ve let his brother, Rylan, come after all. While Rylan didn’t have second sight, he was an excellent judge of character and his instincts had never led him astray. At the moment, Garrick didn’t have any of those to aid him.

  ~*~

  Sophia sat on the edge of her pallet the next morn, reluctant to begin her day. She hadn’t felt like this since the weeks following the siege. Fear did terrible things to a person, even after the threat was over. She knew all too well, having lived through it.

  While facing the prospect of a man attempting to stab her with a knife had been bearable, the aftermath was more difficult. Her limbs felt heavy, as though mired in mud. Even breathing took effort this morn. Enduring the entire day while feeling so vulnerable and uncertain seemed impossible.

  The image of Garrick filled her mind, bringing with it an easing of the lingering fear. Anticipation at seeing him trickled through her and had her rising to dress. She hated to think she was becoming dependent on him. But she couldn’t deny how his presence brightened her day.

  How much longer would he remain here? Nay, she wouldn’t allow herself to worry about such things now. The past two days had been wasted in fear. She refused to lose another one with Garrick by worrying more.

  After washing her face and putting on her kirtle and shoes, she took her cloak from the peg and opened the door. The rest of her family still slept though Alec’s pallet was empty. With a deep breath to gather her courage, she stepped over the threshold to find Garrick waiting for her, a cloth sack in hand.

  “Good morn,” she said, both delighted and touched at his presence. She drew her cloak around her, her fingers seeking the slit to worry the hole. The cut was a reminder that life might be over in an instant. Wasn’t that all the more reason she should enjoy days such as this?

  He smiled as he stepped forward only to pause when he noticed her finger in the tear. “Perhaps we should find a new cloak for you.”

  “No need. I appreciate the reminder that each day should be lived to the fullest. I seem to have forgotten that lesson in the past months.”

  Garrick nodded solemnly, his blue eyes holding hers. “Though when you need to make certain you have enough food for the winter, ’tis difficult. You’re forced to plan for future days.”

  “True, but winter has passed. I declare it so.” She lifted her face to the pale sky, closed her eyes and smiled. Though the air still held the chill of spring, winter seemed a distant memory.

  The unexpected feel of Garrick’s lips upon hers sent her stomach into a long, slow roll.

  “How can I resist such a sight?” he whispered.

  “I’m pleased you can’t.” She opened her eyes to find him so close, she could see the pale blue flecks in his eyes.

  He kissed her again, longer this time, his tongue tracing the seam of her lips. She opened them eagerly, drawing even nearer as pleasure tingled in her toes. Her head spun as he cradled a gentle hand along her jaw. Heat spread through her, weakening her limbs until she wanted to cling to him and never let go.

  She could only sigh in disappointment when he drew back. But when she heard his quickened breathing, she had to smile, pleased he’d been as affected as she by their kiss.

  “Your night was uneventful?” he asked, his brow creased with concern.

  “I slept better than I did the previous night.”

  “Why are you up and about so early this morn?”

  Did she dare tell him the truth? “I had hopes of seeing you.” She watched closely and saw only delight in his eyes.

  “Then we are of one mind.” He smiled and took her hand in his, holding it tight.

  The warmth of his palm against hers sent her heart racing and helped wash away the distress of the past two days.

  “Would you care to join me for a walk this morn?” he asked.

  “That would be a lovely way to begin the day.”

  “I took the liberty of bringing along something to break our fast.” He raised the cloth sack he held. “Shall we begin our adventure?” He offered his arm, which she gladly took.

  “Is there some place in particular you’d like to explore this morn?” She looked up at him, noting the way he continually glanced about as though on watch. Perhaps he wasn’t here simply to enjoy her company. Her heart sunk at the thought.

  “If you don’t mind, I would like to go to the river again. ’Tis peaceful there and offers some privacy. This city has too many eyes and ears.”

  “Has something else happened?” She felt rather than saw his hesitation. Did that mean he wasn’t being completely honest with her?

  “After the last two days, I thought we could both use some time alone.”

  “Excellent notion.” She decided to be patient and wait for him to tell her what else had happened. “I was surprised by the number of people who inquired about my wellbeing after you stopped that man.”

  “Did anyone appear overly interested?” he asked as they passed through the city gate, nodding at the guard there.

  She frowned as she considered the various conversations she’d had. “None that come to mind.”

  “You’re certain you’ve never before seen that man?”

  “Nay. I’ve thought on it and am certain I don’t know him.”

  “I’ll request a meeting with Sir Gilbert and ask to speak with the man again. Perhaps he’ll be willing to talk after a night or two spent in the dungeon.” He frowned as he stared down toward the river.

  She turned to see what he looked at. Several people had gathered at the riverbank, including a few fishermen she recognized. “I wonder what that’s about.”

  “Chanse and Alec are down there. Perhaps we should see what the problem is,” he suggested.

  Sophia walked with Garrick down the hill, surprised that Alec was again with Chanse. That made her worry even more. The threat to her and her family must not have ended with the capture of her attacker if Chanse was guarding her brother again. She couldn’t believe they were merely planning on some early morning fishing.

  The two greeted them, but Sophia knew from the look on their faces that something was terribly wrong.

  “What’s happened?” Garrick asked his cousin.

  “You’d best come and see for yourself.”

  Sophia braced herself for more bad news.

  ~*~

  Garrick’s unease grew as they neared the group gathered on the riverbank. He could see someone lying on the ground. From the stillness of the body, he assumed he was dead.

  “Why don’t you wait here?” he asked Sophia.

  “I’ve seen more injured or dead than most,” she said. “I would like to know who it is.”

  She had a valid point, but he’d prefer not to have her upset. She’d been through enough of late.

  “Good morn to you, Warren,” she greeted one of the men standing in the group.

  “And to ye, Lady Sophia.” He glanced at Garrick and Chanse warily.

  “What’s happened?” she asked.

  “A man washed up on the bank. Lawrence found him when he untied his boat this morn.”

  Garrick moved around one of the men to gain a better look. His stomach lurched as he recognized the man.

  Iagan.

  Though he’d only seen
him in full light the first night they’d met in the tavern, there was no mistaking his identity. Oblivious to those gathered around, he knelt beside him. His throat had been slit nearly ear-to-ear. His brown eyes stared unseeingly up at the sky, his mouth slightly ajar. Nasty rope burns marked his wrists.

  Chanse squatted down beside him. “What the hell could’ve happened?”

  Garrick shook his head, suddenly aware of the people surrounding them. Now was not the time or the place for conjecture. He had to think of his and his cousins’ safety. They were strangers here and drawing suspicion wouldn’t benefit them nor would it help Iagan. They dared not risk revealing their association with the dead man. “Does anyone know this man?”

  Chanse frowned for a moment before he seemed to realize what Garrick intended.

  “Not I,” Warren said.

  “I’ve seen him afore,” Lawrence said as he frowned at Iagan. “He’s passed through Berwick several times. Uses a boat to move up and down the river. I don’t think he lives here though.”

  “Warren, can you alert the baliff?” Sophia requested. “He’ll want to know about this, especially since the man was murdered.”

  “Of course, my lady.” He gave her a nod and strode toward the city gate.

  Garrick watched Sophia closely, amazed at how calm she seemed. But upon closer inspection, he noted the way her lips were pursed, how she looked everywhere except at Iagan. She looped her arm through her brother’s and turned him away from the body.

  With a glance at Chanse who nodded at his silent request, Garrick rose and went to her and Alec. Chanse would await the baliff and see what the man had to say.

  Alec’s eyes looked a bit wild and his face was pale. Garrick could only assume the sight of a dead man had brought back far too many memories. In all honesty, Sophia didn’t look much better.

  “What were you and Sir Chanse doing so early this morn?” Sophia asked Alec.

  “He asked to come with me to fish again. We’d only arrived at the river when we heard Lawrence calling for help.” The boy spun away, bent over, and retched.

  Sophia said nothing, only patted her brother on the back. He rested his hands on his knees for a long moment then wiped off his mouth before at last turning back to face them.

  “Gruesome sight so early in the day, is it not?” Garrick asked.

  Alec nodded but looked away, obviously embarrassed by his body’s reaction.

  “No need to be shy over it,” Garrick reassured him as he watched Warren speak with the guard at the city gate. “That isn’t a sight any of us should grow used to.”

  The boy appeared to take comfort from his words, and Sophia sent him a grateful look.

  Garrick did his best to hide his own disquiet. The knowledge that his contact had had his throat slit and been tossed in the river made Garrick more than uneasy.

  His entire mission was now in jeopardy. With Iagan gone, so was Garrick’s tie to the world outside Berwick. Where did that leave him?

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Garrick walked through the inner bailey of Berwick Castle the following afternoon, hoping Sir Gilbert would allow him to speak with Sophia’s attacker. He wasn’t certain what to expect from the governor of Berwick. The man had no reason to allow Garrick to question the prisoner, nor could Garrick give him one. Not without revealing his mission here, and that he was not willing to do. He wasn’t inclined to trust anyone in this city, with the exception of Sophia.

  The soldier who led him through the bailey said little. From what Garrick had discerned, few of the men in the garrison were the same ones who’d fled Berwick when King Edward had offered them the chance. Sir Gilbert had formed his own garrison when he’d taken over.

  Sophia told him Sir Gilbert had recently returned to the city after being gone for several months. Garrick found it surprising the lord would find the time to meet with him when more pressing things must be vying for his attention. When Garrick had requested the meeting, he’d told the steward he was here to negotiate a significant wool trade agreement. That didn’t seem like it would warrant Sir Gilbert’s agreement to speak with Garrick. But he supposed Sir Gilbert had his own source of information.

  A man at the tavern the previous night had told him that Sir Gilbert had obtained his Scottish earldom when he’d married his first wife. That earldom put into question his loyalty to England. Most of his holdings were English, but not all, and not his earldom. Did his allegiances change with the tide?

  Garrick had decided against telling Sophia of this meeting. She didn’t seem to care for the man, and Garrick remembered quite well her upset after her recent conversation with Sir Gilbert. How odd the governor hadn’t called upon Sophia to inquire as to her wellbeing after the attempted stabbing.

  The thick, sand-colored stonewalls of the three-story keep were in good repair, and the grounds of the bailey were well tended. Men-at-arms clad in blue and white livery walked the walls, keeping guard. A few knights and soldiers trained in the bailey, the clash of their swords ringing in the air. The sound of the blacksmith’s hammer beat a steady rhythm to the men’s movements.

  Garrick walked with the soldier up the stairs to the keep’s heavy wooden doors. Inside, steep, curved steps led to the upper floors on the left, but the soldier continued into the great hall on the right. A weaponry display and a tapestry showing a white hawk on a blue background graced the wall above the massive fireplace. But what caught Garrick’s attention was Sir Gilbert.

  The older man stood before the fire, hands clasped before him as though he had nothing better to do than await Garrick’s arrival. He was a head taller than Garrick and thicker as well. With a full, peppered beard and low bushy brows, his appearance was formidable. He watched Garrick closely as he entered the hall. Garrick could almost see the impressions being formed as he looked him over from head to toe.

  Fair enough, as Garrick was doing the same.

  “Greetings,” his host said as he stepped forward. “Always a pleasure to meet a fellow Englishman.”

  Garrick smiled. “Indeed, though I find there are quite a few of us in Berwick despite the city being north of the border.”

  “True. That wasn’t always the case. I suppose we have King Edward to thank for that.” Gilbert gestured toward the head table where a pitcher of ale and two cups awaited them. “Come. Sit. Quench your thirst.”

  Garrick didn’t agree or disagree with his comment about the king. He had to wonder if the man was trying to confirm Garrick’s loyalty to England. If only they could believe each other’s answers rather than search for ulterior motives. Garrick waited for the earl to take a seat before doing the same.

  “My steward tells me you’re the one to whom I owe my gratitude for Lady Sophia’s safety.” Gilbert filled the cups and handed one to Garrick.

  “I was pleased to be of assistance.”

  “How...fortunate you were in the right place at the right time.”

  “Fortunate, indeed,” Garrick agreed, choosing to ignore the suggestion that more than luck had been involved. “The city would not be the same without her.” The older man raised his brow but Garrick merely smiled and took a drink. “Fine ale.”

  “She would be sorely missed by many, including me.” The emphasis he put on the last phrase made Garrick wonder what his intentions were toward Sophia. Did he hope for another wife? “My thanks for saving her life.”

  Garrick kept his easy smile despite the image of Sophia as Gilbert’s wife souring his stomach. “Has the man who attacked her given a reason?”

  “Nothing believable. His story seems to change, depending on what he thinks we want to hear.” Gilbert scowled as though disgusted with the prisoner. “Did he say anything when you stopped him?”

  “Only that the city would be better off without her.” Repeating the words left a terrible taste in his mouth.

  The older man shook his head. “It makes no sense. But without her brother’s protection, she is vulnerable in many ways.”

  “I w
ould welcome the opportunity to speak with the man. Perhaps I can obtain an answer.” Garrick did his best to hide his eagerness to do so. Hearing information secondhand from Gilbert was less than satisfactory. Garrick wanted the truth, not Gilbert’s version of events.

  Gilbert waved his hand in dismissal. “No need for you to go to such trouble. We take care of our own in Berwick.”

  “Have you been able to determine who he is or if he was acting alone?”

  “Only that he hails from a village north of here. He claims to have done it of his own accord.”

  “With a poisoned blade no less.” Garrick shook his head.

  “Poison?”

  “I don’t know for certain, but the blade was coated in a wet, sticky substance. Poison is the only explanation that came to mind.” The close call still chilled his blood.

  “Humph. I had not heard that.” The man appeared truly surprised by Garrick’s news.

  “I must say, I’m surprised to learn someone wants her dead. While I have noted a few of the residents of the city hold Sophia to blame for their losses during the siege, most seem to admire her.”

  “She’s done much to help many of them despite her own reduced circumstances.”

  Garrick decided to press further. “If her attacker holds ill will from the events of two years ago, why did he wait so long before taking action?”

  Gilbert held his gaze, revealing nothing. “Why indeed?”

  “Do you believe the attack unrelated to the siege?”

  “Nearly every event that occurs in this city can be tied back to the siege. Nothing is unrelated.”

  Garrick waited, holding his silence to see if Gilbert would share his thoughts on the matter. When he said nothing more, Garrick continued, “Perhaps the man sought vengeance. Maybe he had family that was killed in the attack.”

  “Impossible to say. We will have another conversation with him soon. He may have changed his mind about wanting to keep his silence after a few more nights in the dungeon. ’Tis far from a pleasant place.”