Kingslayer's Daughter (The House of Pendray Book 2)

by Anna Markland

“I’m wise to your ploy, Munro Pendray. Later, and I’ll fetch more onion tea. Meanwhile, eat this.”

  He grimaced when he saw the object in her hand. “A clove of garlic?”

  “No discussion,” she admonished.

  They needed to have a discussion, about Giles, and about the future. But this wasn’t the right moment. “Aye, doctor.”

  Bossy

  Thanks to Giles’ efforts to rekindle the fires and boil water as soon as he’d arrived home, they managed to open the shop on time.

  The thought struck her after the first customer left that the boy had in fact quickly made himself at home on Edgbaston Street. In a way, he’d adopted her and assumed several responsibilities that normally fell to the man of the household. The notion was at once gratifying and upsetting. It would be heart-wrenching to leave him behind. Unless…

  She’d have to speak to Munro before suggesting he accompany them to Scotland. It was probably presumptuous to even suggest it, especially since she was incapable of giving him the gift of his own children. She was nervous enough about facing his parents without the extra baggage of a young boy. It was possible Giles truly wanted to return to the school and get a complete education. She had an obligation to tell him of Munro’s offer. “Mr. Pendray will gladly pay your fees at King Edward’s. Perhaps, that will make a difference in your decision.”

  “Too right,” he replied. “Didn’t want to be beholden to old Battersby.”

  He was polite to customers, as always, and methodically efficient in the things she asked him to do, but his perpetual frown betrayed his concerns about the future.

  Since Wednesday was half-day closing, they worked through lunch before locking up. They’d prepared more onion tea for Munro and the other things she needed were still in the basket. “Are you coming with me to visit Mr. Pendray?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “No, I’ll stay here if it’s all the same to you. I didn’t sleep well last night.”

  While that might be true, she suspected he preferred to leave her and Munro alone. Their obvious delight in each other’s company clearly reminded him of his parents. “Enjoy a nap, then,” she replied. “But not until you’ve had something to eat. Go up and see what’s left over in the larder.”

  He put a foot on the bottom step as she turned the key. “Mrs. North.”

  “Yes?”

  “If I decide to go back to the school, it’s not because…well…I don’t have much choice do I?”

  His little face was awash with misery. Guilt swept over her. “You could always stay with whomever takes over the shop.”

  The thoughtless words only served to deepen his frown. It wasn’t what she’d meant to say. There was scant chance she’d be able to sell the shop. However, she daren’t give him hope about Scotland until she’d spoken to Munro. “We’ll talk when I get back,” she reassured him.

  Munro blinked open his eyes, smiling weakly when he saw Sarah standing over him. “Did ye forget something?” he asked.

  She smoothed his hair off his forehead. “No. I’ve been gone five hours.”

  He yawned and scratched his head, not fully comprehending what she’d said. “I must have slept.”

  “Good. You look better. We brought beef broth.”

  It was only then he noticed Luke dithering in the open doorway, a tray in his hands. “That lad works every hour God sends,” he whispered, pushing himself into a sitting position after Sarah had plumped the pillows. “Fetch it here, Luke.”

  The boy obliged and gave the tray to Sarah.

  She balanced it on Munro’s thighs.

  He inhaled the aroma of the broth. “Smells good,” he said, relieved his throat wasn’t as raspy and his nose had unplugged completely.

  “I helped with the vegetables,” Luke replied before dashing away.

  “Seriously,” he continued, lifting a spoonful of broth. “He probably spent hours peeling and chopping carrots, and whatever else is in this.”

  “Careful,” she warned. “It might be hot.”

  He took a sip. “Tasty.”

  She sat on the edge of the bed and picked up the other spoon. “Fine dining,” she quipped with a grin.

  “Just having ye here makes it taste wonderful.”

  She sampled the broth. “You may have noticed I’m not a good cook.”

  “Dinna fash,” he replied. “My mother supervises in the kitchen, but Gavina and her scullery maids do all the cooking.”

  “We’ll be living with your parents in Scotland?”

  “Aye, Kilmer is easily big enough. We’ll still have our privacy.”

  “When you say big enough, what do you mean?”

  He scooped out the last of the beef, hoping her thoughts were going in the same direction as his. Their relationship was new and he didn’t want her rethinking the decision to marry him. “I accept that ye canna have bairns, Sarah, and I dinna love ye any less, but there are several empty chambers at Kilmer and plenty o’ bairns in need of love.”

  He braced himself for an angry rebuttal, chewing his lower lip as she stared at him.

  “Like Giles,” she said.

  Relief swept over him. “Aye. He’s a bright lad. I’m confident he’d do well at my alma mater.”

  “Not to mention we care about him too much to leave him behind. But what will your parents say?”

  “They willna mind at all. I love ye, Sarah North.”

  “And I love you, gentle man. Now, if you’ll take two more drops of oregano oil and drink the onion tea I brought, I’ll rub your chest again.”

  “Bossy,” he complained for the sake of it. He’d walk on hot coals to feel Sarah’s hands on his body.

  Sarah had made a point of keeping her eyes tight shut in her first marriage bed. The contours and planes of Munro’s muscles came as a delightful surprise as she applied the wintergreen for the first time in daylight. He was hard and soft, smooth and rough, chiseled and rounded. His male nipples weren’t like hers, except that he sucked in a breath every time she brushed her thumbs over them. Her own tingled in response. “You like the aroma,” she said.

  “Aye, ’tis definitely the aroma I like,” he replied with a sly grin.

  “Tell me about your journey.”

  He recounted his experiences, making light of things she was sure were deeply hurtful. That was his way. Always looking on the bright side.

  “So, it was a good idea to fulfill your quest,” she said.

  “Aye. My thanks to ye for insisting on it. I expect ye spent all yer time pining for me in my absence.”

  As a punishment for his teasing, she deliberately let her hand wander lower on his belly, enjoying the lustful gleam in his eyes. “Actually, I never gave you a thought.”

  “Liar,” he retorted.

  “You know me too well. I missed you, especially when I had to go to the courthouse to testify for Addison and Hogg.”

  He grasped her wrist. “What?”

  “Well, I didn’t have to go, but I couldn’t let two children hang without speaking on their behalf. They’re not murderers, just silly schoolboys.”

  He lowered her hand to the hard flesh at his groin and held it there. “That took courage. What was the outcome?”

  The linen sheet between her hand and his warm maleness only served to heighten her arousal. Her thoughts filled with memories of the first time they’d shared intimacies. Sarah North, a woman who loathed sexual congress, wanted more. “Of what?” she asked, distracted by intensely pleasurable sensations.

  He chuckled. “The trial.”

  She dragged her attention back from wanton cravings. “I haven’t heard, but Addison’s father was grateful and said if I ever needed anything, I was to ask him.”

  “Interesting,” he replied.

  Another Good Idea

  Munro and Sarah discussed the possible reasons for his sudden illness and came to the conclusion he’d likely inhaled some noxious gas in his cousin’s coal mine.

  “Getting drenched with rain
several times wouldn’t help,” she said, but he’d been soaked to the skin on many occasions and never fallen ill. A yawn interrupted his intention to tell her so.

  “You need to rest,” she remarked.

  He was sorely tempted to suggest she remove her frock and climb between the sheets, but that would be asking for trouble in his current state of arousal. “I canna believe I’m saying this, but I think I’ll convalesce more quickly if ye nap atop the bedding.”

  “I agree,” she replied, yanking the linens up to his neck.

  It didn’t take her long to doze off. The sound of her steady breathing was music to his ears. It was a measure of her complete trust in him that she slept in his arms. He longed for the day he could make her his, but was content to simply wile away the afternoon in her company. She probably thought he was sleeping too, but his head had cleared enough to plan for the future.

  They’d solved the problem of Giles, but there remained the issue of what to do with the shop. From previous remarks, he knew she would be hesitant to simply close down and leave the community without an apothecary shop.

  However, solving that quandary might take weeks or even months. The inn and the shop were on the same street, but the prospect of living apart for so long didn’t sit well. It would be a strain on them both.

  She stirred when he stroked her hair. “Are ye awake?”

  “Aye,” she quipped.

  “Ye tease me now, but I guarantee after week living in Scotland ye’ll be saying aye all the time.”

  “Probably,” she yawned.

  “I have another good idea,” he ventured.

  “What?”

  “Let’s get married right away.”

  She sat up. “But you want to marry in Scotland, with your family present. They’ll be angry.”

  It was true his father would be disappointed. Jewel would sulk. His mother would be furious—but she’d get over it. He doubted Grainger would care one way or the other.

  “We can always renew our vows in Kilmer, but we canna carry on as we are. I want our union to be blessed and well thought of, nay the topic of neighborhood gossip.”

  “But where would we live? The apartment is small.”

  He shrugged. “’Twould be for a short time, just until ye decide what to do with the shop.”

  He recognized the danger. She might never want to leave.

  “What about the banns?”

  “We should be able to procure a license so we dinna have to wait. I can ask Reverend Grove.”

  She fidgeted with the lace cuffs of her frock. “Giles would like it if we all lived together.”

  He took her hand. “So would I.”

  She smiled. “It seems fitting Reverend Grove be the person to marry us.”

  “’Tis settled then.” He pursed his lips for a kiss, frowning when someone tapped at the door.

  “I’ve just come for thy guzunda,” Luke shouted.

  They both burst out laughing.

  “I’m not sure if that’s a good omen or not,” Sarah said.

  “Now, he’s emptying chamberpots,” Munro exclaimed. “Another case of a bairn in need of a good home.”

  Sarah waited until Luke had left with his burden before donning her shawl and bonnet and gathering her belongings. “Time to go,” she said, wishing she could curl up in bed with Munro and explore his body. “I must go to the Bull Ring and buy food if I’m going to have two men to cook for.”

  “Aye. I’ve an enormous appetite.”

  The wiggling eyebrows gave away the deeper meaning of his words. She wagged a finger at him. “Incorrigible is right.”

  “But ye love me just the same.”

  “I do,” she conceded, still astonished at the alchemy that had flared so quickly between them. “I can’t imagine life without you. You’ve become essential to my happiness.”

  They gazed into each other’s eyes, both reluctant to part for even a short time. “I could come back,” she offered. “Bring you something to eat.”

  “Nay,” he replied. “Ye’ve spent enough time taking care of your invalid. When Luke returns, I’ll get him to bring me more broth. Go tell Giles the good news.”

  She pecked a kiss on his nose and let herself out of the room, passing Luke on the stairs.

  She bought two small pork pies and a twist of India Pickle from Mrs. Richards before setting off along Edgbaston Street. Head down against the brisk wind, she pondered Munro’s remark about Luke.

  Giles was full of questions about Munro’s health when she reached the shop. “Come up and I’ll give you a full report,” she replied. “I bought pies.”

  He took the basket from her. “Cor! India Pickle too. My favorite.”

  She chivvied him up the stairs. “You’ll be glad to hear Mr. Pendray is much better.”

  “Good,” he replied. “I don’t think he should go to Wales again.”

  She chuckled, serving up the pies and a dollop of the relish for both of them.

  After he said grace, she embarked on her plan to surprise him. “The other good news is we have decided to get married as soon as possible. Mr. Pendray will ask Reverend Grove to procure a special license.”

  He broke off a bit of his pie crust, frowning like a wise old man. “I think it’s a good idea. People around here gossip.”

  “True,” she replied, getting up from the able to fill the kettle from the ewer. “Goodness knows what they’ll say when they hear the rest of our news.”

  He licked the relish off his crust. “What’s that?”

  “We’d like to take you with us when we move to Scotland.”

  He stared at her as if she’d spoken Greek, the pie suspended halfway to his mouth. His lip began to quiver. The stool toppled over when he shot to his feet and launched himself at her, clamping his arms around her waist.

  She stroked his hair as he sobbed against her, and she knew in that moment they’d made the right decision. God had blessed her with a child after all.

  Fair Game

  Munro slept soundly and awoke at dawn the next morning feeling better. His fever seemed to have broken.

  He and Sarah had made some difficult decisions together, which boded well for the future. His heart was at peace with the prospect of fostering Giles. He’d taken to the lad from their first meeting. God had seen fit to make Sarah barren, which he deemed a cruel fate. She would have been a wonderful mother.

  Like most men, Munro had assumed he’d one day sire sons. The orphaned Giles was the answer to a prayer.

  He’d made a flippant remark about Luke, but mayhap his destiny was to provide a secure home for boys like him. It was a way to fulfill his resolve to make a brighter future possible for bairns with no hope.

  Gathering the linens around his hips, he swung his legs out of bed and planted his feet on the planked floor. Encouraged when the room didn’t spin around him, he fashioned a toga from the sheet and stood.

  He wasn’t sure how Luke knew he had risen, but the boy was suddenly peering around the open door after tapping. “I’ve brought thee a tub.”

  Munro’s mind filled with images of the deep bathtub at Kilmer. He’d have a difficult time fitting his large frame in the galvanized washtub Luke dragged in. Nevertheless, it was better than nothing, and he desperately wanted to be clean. “Will the kitchen bring up hot water?” he asked.

  “I’ll fetch it for thee,” the urchin replied before disappearing.

  His impatience growing, Munro watched the boy lug one pail after another and empty it into the washtub. At this rate, the first bucketful would be cold before he dipped a toe. He blamed the innkeeper for expecting a bairn to fulfill such an arduous task. After five pails, he called a halt. “’Tis sufficient.”

  Luke wiped a sleeve across his brow and reached into his pocket for a tiny cake of soap. “Best Castile,” he said breathlessly.

  Munro doubted the veracity of the statement, but kept his thoughts to himself. “I thank ye.”

  The boy nodded. “I’ll bri
ng thee breakfast in a while.”

  “Take yer time,” he replied, dropping the toga to the floor before stepping into the washtub.

  The color drained from Luke’s red face. “I forgot yer towel,” he gasped before rushing off again.

  Munro sat down, relieved the water was still warm, though he had to tuck his knees to his chest to get the soles of his feet wet.

  It was far from luxurious, but he soaped and rinsed his body, inhaling the faint traces of wintergreen—remembering Sarah’s touch. He was grateful for the boy’s efforts on his behalf. It dawned on him the landlord likely didn’t even know.

  The water cooled quickly. Resigned to using the sheet as a drying cloth, he stood, sluicing the water off his body.

  Luke hurried in with a towel and gave it to Munro. “Sorry, sir. I had to serve customers in the dining room.”

  “Is there aught ye dinna have responsibility for in this inn?” he asked, drying off his legs.

  Luke furrowed his brow, evidently searching for the answer. “I don’t brew the ale,” he finally replied. “Mrs. Richards does that. I hope my legs grow long like thine. The stairs won’t seem as steep then.”

  And with that he was gone.

  Munro dressed slowly. He felt refreshed now he was clean, but bathing had taken more energy than he anticipated. Sarah would likely scold him for getting out of bed. However, there were many important tasks to accomplish and he’d have to pace himself. It was a day for new beginnings, but he couldn’t rid himself of the appalling reality of a bright lad resigned to a lifetime of menial servitude. How many years of drudgery would it take to turn an innocent bairn into a sullen, resentful youth?

  He finally managed to pull on his boots. Clad in cloak and hat, he made his way downstairs, mentioning to the landlord he’d take care of his own breakfast. There was no need to trouble Luke.

  “It’s no trouble for him,” Richards replied. “The boy’s taken a shine to thee.”

  Munro itched to reply that Luke was a friendly soul who would respond to anyone who treated him well, but there was no point antagonizing the jovial landlord. “I’m off to St. Martin’s,” he said instead. “To make arrangements for a wedding.”