She glanced to where Garrick stood a short distance away, his gaze searching the crowd. Not for the first time, she wondered if she’d already be dead if not for him. A shudder rippled through her at the thought.
She still didn’t understand where he’d received his information. Each time she’d questioned him, he’d neatly deflected answering. When this was over, and she prayed that would be soon, she intended to question him further. There had to be something he wasn’t telling her.
With a shake of her head, she drew her thoughts back to the present moment. Now was not the time to be distracted. She needed to keep her focus on this moment so she would be ready when the attack came.
She nearly groaned with dismay as she watched Jacques approach. Garrick’s request that she trust no one rang in her ears. Surely Jacques didn’t intend her harm.
“Good day, Lady Sophia,” he greeted her with his customary smile.
“Does the day find you well?” she asked. There was no way she could be rude to Jacques, but she could nearly feel Garrick’s glare.
“Indeed it does.” He glanced up at the sky. “I fear we are in for more rain.”
“We will hope it holds off for a time. ’Tis difficult to sell goods during a downpour. Have you sold all you brought?”
“For the most part. Now I’m attempting to fill the ship before I return.”
They discussed his purchases for a short time, but Sophia was having a difficult time concentrating. She couldn’t help but continually glance around.
“Is something amiss?” Jacques asked.
“I’m watching for someone.” After all, that was true.
With each week that passed, the market became busier. This day was no exception. Many strangers moved through the square, outnumbering the people she knew. All she could do was glance at each one to determine whether they appeared nervous or overly interested in her. She didn’t know what else to watch for. Garrick had told her to listen to her instincts, but thus far, they hadn’t told her anything.
“May I offer my assistance in your search?” Jacques asked. He moved to stand to one side of her and looked about.
“No need,” she quickly replied. “I don’t think you know him.” She glanced worriedly at Jacques. Yet after a moment, she set aside her concern. He didn’t feel like a threat to her. She only wanted him to go. With him standing so close, she feared the person wouldn’t try to harm her. While she was frightened, she was equally ready for this to be over.
As though he’d read her mind, he turned to her and said, “I’ll let you continue your vigil and wish you a good day.” With a smile and a bow, he took his leave.
She watched him walk away, her attention catching on a man headed directly toward her, brows drawn together, his lips pursed as though determined. Her heart raced as she braced herself, fearing this could be him.
Garrick had told her not to stare at anyone approaching as that might chase him off, but she couldn’t help it.
The stranger continued walking toward her, the weave and cut of his tunic marking him as a sailor from a foreign land. His direction would lead him straight to her. She managed to glance away for a moment but had to turn back. He didn’t look at her but stared at something over her shoulder.
Fear poured through her limbs, making time slow. Everything around became a blur except the approaching man. Her breath hitched as he drew ever closer. She glanced at his hands, her own closing to fists to defend herself, but he held no knife.
He continued past to speak with a man a short distance from her. Sophia’s knees nearly buckled with relief. So much for instincts. She drew a deep breath, as deep as she could with the binding secure on her waist. Had anyone noted her fear?
As she looked around, a destrier with a rider passed a short distance from her. Behind them, a man wearing a black cloak with the hood drawn up, concealing his face, stalked forward. He was upon her before she could manage to scream. The glint of his blade flashed in the light as he raised it, but it was too late to do more than jerk back.
His knife struck one of the pewter plates as Garrick tackled him to the ground. He pinned the attacker’s hands against the ground, but the man continued to struggle.
A ripple of alarm ran through the people in the square as they realized what had happened.
Sophia could only stare at the stranger, shocked at how close he’d come to succeeding in his task. She didn’t even know him, was all she could think. His dark hair, pock-marked face, and narrow nose were completely unfamiliar. A scar crossed his face, running from his upper cheek to the tip of his chin, his dark whiskers making the scar more noticeable. Why did he want to kill her?
Chanse and Braden rushed to her side. Chanse drew her close while Braden aided Garrick in restraining the man. Several men offered their assistance as well.
The expression on Garrick’s face was not one she’d soon forget. The cold rage etching his features sent shivers down her spine.
“Do you know him?” Chanse asked.
She shook her head. Her gaze caught on the knife he still gripped. The tip of it glistened in the light.
Braden squeezed the man’s wrist above where Garrick held him, and the knife clattered to the cobbled street. Braden turned to look at Garrick and silently mouthed one word.
“Poisoned?”
The edges of Sophia’s world darkened, closing in on her. She leaned into Chanse as her limbs weakened. Someone had meant to stab her with a poisoned knife? They obviously wanted her death to be a certainty.
Jacques pressed through the people surrounding them. “What happened?” he asked as he stared at the man and the blade. “He intended to stab Lady Sophia?”
“So it seems,” Garrick said. He held her gaze as though to lend her strength and reassure her it had not come to pass.
“You are well?” Jacques asked. At her nod, he looked relieved. “I’ll find guards from the garrison to take this man,” he told Chanse and hurried away.
“Who are you?” Garrick asked the man.
The man said nothing, only glared. Then his gaze shifted to Sophia. “You should’ve died this day.”
“Why?” The words were little more than a whisper, but her attacker heard them.
“This city would be better off without you.” His disdain was clear in the curl of his lip.
Chanse drew her away. The crowd parted as whispers of alarm swelled through it. She felt the weight of stares as they made their way toward the church. “My family?”
“I’ll see to them shortly and make certain all is well,” Chanse reassured her as he saw her safely inside.
“Will you go check on them now? Please?” she asked. “If anything happened to Ilisa or Alec, I couldn’t bear it.”
“As soon as Garrick arrives.” He’d barely completed the sentence when the door opened and Garrick entered.
“Once I know all is well, I’ll return,” Chanse said and hurried out the door.
Garrick had her wrapped in his embrace, holding her tight before the door had fully closed behind Chanse. “Are you well?”
She nodded, realizing she could hear his heart thundering against her ear. She knew she should step away and stand on her own two feet. Relying on this knight would only make the days to come all the harder once he’d returned to England.
But in this moment, she couldn’t do it. She needed him. “I would be dead in the market square right now if it weren’t for you.”
“Christ. Don’t say such a thing.” He eased back, his gaze taking in all of her as though to make certain she was unharmed. “That was far too close.”
“I am well. Truly.”
He ran his hands along her body to make sure for himself, his fingers catching in a slit in her cloak. He eased open the garment to find a matching slit on the binding that held the plates in place. “God’s bones. That was far too close.”
She stared at the cut then looked up at him in wonder. “’Tis exactly where you thought it would be. When you first warned me
about the attack, that is where you pointed.”
Garrick continued to stare at the spot, his brows low. “One of the knight’s from Sir Gilbert’s garrison along with the baliff took the man away before we gained any answers from him. We’ll request the opportunity to speak with him again and see if he will tell us why he did this.”
Sophia hardly heard him. All she could think of was how closely the events matched Garrick’s prediction. Her blood chilled as she stared at him. Had she been fooling herself that she knew anything about him? That she should trust him? “Tell me how you knew.”
Garrick could only stare at Sophia in dismay. He cursed his second sight, yet it was the very thing that had saved her. Once again, he realized he was nothing without it. He never would’ve known what was going to happen if he hadn’t had the vision. Even the prioress’s warning would not have been enough to aid him in preparing for this attack.
Yet what could he tell her now?
A shadow filled her eyes, telling him of her suspicions. Did she truly think he was capable of developing an elaborate plot to murder her only to rescue her at the last moment? His chest tightened in response. He knew it shouldn’t matter what she thought of him for he’d soon be gone.
But it did. It mattered more than he cared to admit.
As he opened his lips to confess his second sight, fear halted the words. He couldn’t do it. Despite the fact that he was only here for a short time, he had no desire for her to look at him in fear, or worse, loathing. He’d encountered such reactions his entire life.
Yet he hated to lie to her. She deserved more than that. With a shake of his head, he reminded himself that he had no choice.
“I merely anticipated what someone might do based on what I would do.” He could only hold her gaze for a few moments before he had to look away. “Chanse, Braden, and I discussed the most likely method. We made a guess based on what we know.”
She looked down at the slit once again. “I still find it unbelievable that you guessed so accurately.”
He grasped her arms, hoping to distract her. Hoping he hadn’t lost her trust. “The important thing is that you are well, and we caught the man.”
“I don’t even know him. Why would he want to kill me?”
“He must’ve acted on someone else’s orders.” Once again, the first person who came to Garrick’s mind was Sir Gilbert.
“Who would order my death?” Sophia asked. “What purpose could it serve?”
He wasn’t ready to cast blame on anyone. Not until he gathered more information. The sooner he spoke with Iagan to discuss this matter, the better he would feel. Until then, he had no answers for Sophia.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Lord James stared at the messenger, certain he’d misheard. “What did you say?”
The man swallowed hard, his gaze holding fast to the rushes on the floor of the great hall. “He was caught, my lord.”
“Before or after he killed the Douglas woman?”
“Before.”
“Good Christ. How difficult can it be to stab a defenseless woman?” At the messenger’s hesitant look, James waved his hand. “I do not require an answer from you.”
He didn’t know the messenger before him or the man hired to kill Lady Sophia. This holding was only a short distance from Berwick, but he rarely stayed here and never for long. Especially not since the death of his son three years past. Most here were strangers. Being this far south, so close to England, made his blood heat, and he didn’t care for it.
However, with his new plan underway, this keep provided a good location from which to keep watch on the situation. Not that it had done him any good in this case.
“When I give orders, I expect results.” His voice was quiet. He wasn’t given to yelling. His energy was better spent doing other things. Like plotting revenge. Apparently doing so wasn’t as simple as he’d anticipated. Now he’d need to find someone else to carry out the task.
“Aye, my lord. ’Twas unfortunate that Ewan was seen prior to his attempt.” He opened his mouth as though to say more but hesitated.
“What is it?”
“It almost appeared as though the knight who stopped him was waiting for him.”
“Impossible.” James scowled. “Unless Ewan spoke of our plan to someone.”
“He denies doing so.”
“Who halted him?” Something about this didn’t feel right. The plan had been set with great secrecy. If someone else knew, he had a much larger problem on his hands.
“Sir Garrick de Bremont. Here from England to trade wool.”
Another damned Englishman in his way. That made James even more determined to rid Scotland of them no matter how long it took. “Discover what you can about him.”
“As you wish, my lord.”
“Mayhap there is a way to take two or more of the family members at one time.” James mulled over his options then smiled as a solution came to mind. “Send Coilean in on your way out.”
He wasn’t about to let some English knight stand in the way of his plans. Rumor told of William Douglas’s possible release in the coming weeks. When he returned to Berwick, he’d find his entire family dead. Mayhap then Douglas would finally feel remorse for what he’d done.
~*~
Garrick waited near the stables for Iagan late that evening. Only the occasional movement from inside the wooden structure reminded Garrick that horses were inside. The city had settled down for the night as well. Most residents had sought their beds. His thoughts shifted to Sophia tucked safely in her cottage with her family. His relief that she was well knew no bounds.
But the threat to her life was not yet over.
Though one man had been stopped, another could easily take his place, especially if someone else gave the orders. The man they’d caught had a sizeable purse on his person. Garrick could only surmise that had been his payment for the deed.
Surely Sophia wasn’t the only target in this plot. The chances of her having done something to warrant such an attack seemed slim. That meant the entire Douglas family was in danger.
Who would want them dead? And why?
Sir William was far removed from the city and being held in a place of King Edward’s choosing. The rest of the family consisted of three younger siblings, two of whom were women. What harm could they cause?
Not for the first time, Garrick wondered if the motivation behind the threat was revenge. That path seemed more logical to him. And the most likely reason for vengeance was for some wrongdoing during the siege. Yet why wait two years to seek revenge?
Did the threat have something to do with his own mission? Perhaps the rumors of unrest and possible rebellion were tied to the danger to Sophia. He shook his head, unable to see the common thread between the two events. Yet he knew his feelings for Sophia influenced his thoughts, making it difficult to see clearly.
Could the Guardians the prioress had mentioned be behind this? Their intent was to see Scotland under Scottish rule, therefore lessening the hold those with English ties had in this country. From what he’d learned, while Sophia’s brother might have holdings in England, that was more a matter of simple geography than true loyalty to England. So why target the Douglas family?
He’d been relieved to receive the message from Iagan this morn, requesting they meet. His contact might be able to shed some light on recent events.
But the time for meeting had passed. Where was Iagan? Garrick decided to wait a little longer before returning to the inn. The night was cool, the moon nothing but a sliver. After what happened the last time after speaking with Iagan, Garrick was determined to be extra cautious though he’d insisted his cousins remain behind. ’Twas much easier to move unseen through the night when there was one rather than three.
Iagan had sent a second message, changing the location of the meeting, leaving Garrick to wonder why. It might’ve simply been because the stables were more convenient, or perhaps Iagan had encountered trouble. As more time passed and there was
still no sign of his contact, Garrick had to believe it was the latter.
A horse’s nicker from inside the stables alerted him to someone’s presence. He shifted back, farther into the shadows, listening closely. While it might be Iagan, it might also be a foe. A slight rustling noise sounded, followed by the scuff of a boot on the cobbles a short distance away.
Garrick remained still, his senses on high alert. He didn’t think the sounds came from Iagan. If someone else was out and about this time of night, they were most likely up to no good.
As the sounds became louder, he slowly drew his knife from his belt, not wanting to give away his presence. The noises stopped. In the silence that followed, he decided to investigate. Knife at the ready, he eased forward, the darkness both his friend and his enemy.
“Bloody hell.” The whispered oath from the opposite end of the stable barely reached Garrick’s ears. “Where is he?”
“I can’t see a thing.”
A horse neighed softly.
“Are ye certain this is the night?”
“Aye. No doubt. Keep yer eyes open. He should already be here. Quiet now, else he’ll hear us.”
Two voices. Which meant Garrick was outnumbered yet again. He didn’t care for the odds, but he wasn’t about to walk away. Confronting these two could provide much needed information. Obviously someone knew he was here and why. Or they knew of Iagan. Either way, Garrick wanted answers.
The horses stomped and snorted, not liking the invasion into their territory. The sound of their movements covered Garrick’s as he continued toward where he’d last heard the men. The door to the stable stood ajar but entering the dark building seemed foolish.
Instead Garrick waited just outside, listening, but heard nothing. Where were they? His tension mounted until he could hear the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.
A scuffling noise sounded at the other end of the stable. Then nothing but silence again. Worried that Iagan may have come across the men, Garrick moved forward as quickly as he dared. The horses shifted as he eased past, and he could only hope it didn’t alert the other human occupants of the stable.
Wildly Romantic: A Multi-Genre Collection Page 14