Ruth Langan Highlanders Bundle

by Ruth Langan

  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 missiv
e 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.”

  Chapter Twenty-three

  The serving wench directed Morgan up the stairs, then watched as he took them three at a time. How she wished she could see the faces of the two lovers when this one burst upon them. His features were distorted with rage. His hand was already on the hilt of his sword.

  Morgan had been unable to think, to reason, on his journey from Greystone Abbey. The only thought that drummed in his mind was that this could not be happening again.

  Even now Morgan could not believe that he would find Brenna with Windham. Despite the message, despite the horse at the railing that he knew to be from his stables, he harbored the glimmer of hope that it was all some horrible mistake. The woman who had shared his bed, the woman he loved more than life itself, was incapable of the deed Windham had described. But in some small corner of his mind remained the knowledge that it had happened to him before. And it was happening to him again.

  He did not bother with the formality of knocking. With a booted foot against the door he sent it crashing inward. He strode inside, his sword drawn, then stopped in midstride.

  Windham stood across the room, holding Brenna captive in his arms. With one hand he held her arms behind her back. His other hand held a dagger to her throat. Morgan’s own dagger.

  “You came so quickly, Grey.” Windham’s voice was strangely high-pitched with excitement. “I hardly had time to prepare.” He laughed, high and shrill. “I’d hoped to have the lady lying in bed with me, just to add to your discomfort. But alas the lady would not cooperate.”

  Morgan’s eyes narrowed as he studied the scene before him. From Brenna’s disheveled appearance, he knew that she had put up a brave battle. But she would be no match against the cruel Windham. Still, it was enough to know that she was not a willing party to this.

  “Why are you here, Brenna?” Morgan’s voice was calm. Too calm.

  Brenna recognized the terrible control he was exerting on his temper.

  “I persuaded the lady to pay Cordell’s gambling debt.”

  Morgan ignored Windham. “You have no money, Brenna.”

  “Aye.” Her voice was unnaturally subdued. “But Lord Windham said that unless the debt was paid by midnight, he would send Cordell to debtor’s prison. I knew that would bring shame to his sisters. And so I agreed to allow Lord Windham to hold the jewels until Cordell could arrange to pay his debt.” Her voice began to break, and she knew that the tears were starting. She quickly swallowed them back. “Today, when Richard told me about your first marriage, I knew that I had to retrieve the jewels before you discovered what I had done. And so I came here to plead my case. Alas, it was what Lord Windham had expected.”

  “Let the lady go, Windham. This is between the two of us.”

  “If I let her go, you will run me through with your sword.” Windham gave an evil smile. “But unless you lay down your sword, I intend to run the lady through with this knife.” He paused, seeing the fury in Morgan’s eyes. “Which shall it be?”

  Without a word Morgan let his sword drop to the floor with a clatter.

  “That is very wise, Grey. We would not want the lady to end up like the last one.”

  Morgan went very still. His eyes blazed. “How would you know how Catherine died unless…” His tone hardened. “It was you. God in heaven. All those years ago, it was you.”

  At the stunned expression on Morgan’s face, Windham said, “She did not fight as well as the Lady Brenna. Perhaps it was the baby that slowed her down. Or perhaps she had already lost her will to live. At any rate, I realized she would be of no further use
to me. And I feared you would persuade her to reveal my name.”

  Morgan’s voice was barely more than a whisper. “She took her secret to the grave. Why would you risk the truth now?”

  “Because I have nothing to lose. You will never leave this room. My secret dies with you.”

  “There were so many beautiful women, Windham. Why did you choose Catherine?”

  “Why did you? We were both young and eager to taste the nectar of all the flowers in the realm.” His eyes narrowed. “But you always seemed to have everything I wanted. The finest estate. The most precious jewels. And then, the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. I could not let you win again. I vowed to have the woman, and to make you suffer.”

  “But you are a wealthy man. You did not need my gold or jewels. Why did you force her to steal?”

  “She was a proud woman. The queen’s own cousin. It pleased me to see her humbled like a beggar. And I knew how much it would shame you. Aye. You are a sore that has festered upon my soul since we were lads.”

  Brenna saw the pain etched on Morgan’s face, and heard it in his tone.

  “Then the fight is between us.” Morgan forced his tone to remain even. If it took every ounce of his willpower, he would keep Windham from exploding and perhaps harming Brenna. “Let the woman go. And I will face your wrath without a weapon.”

  “I intend to keep the woman.” Windham’s tone grew sharper. “And as for you, you are no longer a threat to me. You are doomed.”

  “Why this elaborate plot, Windham? Why now?” Morgan studied the distance between them. Somehow he had to get to Windham and wrestle the knife from him before he could use it on Brenna. For now, he would keep him talking. “If you wanted me dead, why have you gone to such trouble to bring me here? The deed could have just as easily been done at Greystone Abbey.”

  “I tried that. And came upon the lady in your bed. Besides, I needed you away from your home today.”

  Morgan tensed. “Why?”

  Windham gave another shrill laugh. “I need you as far away from the queen as possible.”