Page 21 of Forgotten Secrets (Secrets of the Heart 4)

Chapter 7

Sir Bedivere stuck so close to Morag the next day that she didn’t have a chance to get back to see Mazelina in the secret garden. Neither did she mind, because she loved the attention the man had been giving her all morning. He’d walked her to the chapel and even accompanied her to the ladies solar and waited outside as she talked with the women and stitched. Then he took her for a stroll in the orchard and they stopped to visit the mews where Percival had been spending a lot of time with the birds. It seemed he had a real talent with the hawks and falcons and had offered to help out the falconer in any way he could.

“Allow me,” said Bedivere as he pulled out Morag’s chair at the dais, helping her to sit.

“Thank ye,” said Morag, feeling like a queen as he seated himself next to her between her and Lady Ernestine. “I must admit, I have never had a man pull out a chair for me before now. I’m no’ used to it.”

“Well, you’ll see a lot of that from now on, Lady Morag,” answered Bedivere with a smile. “I told you I will be your personal guard and escort during your visit here at the castle.”

“See Morag? I told you Sir Bedivere was chivalric,” Lady Ernestine remarked, taking a sip of wine from her goblet.

“How kind of you to say that,” answered Bedivere with a nod of gratitude. He took the platter of meat from the kitchen wench and served Lady Ernestine and then Morag. “Cupbearer, bring more wine for the lady of the castle and Lady Morag please,” he said waving down the boy.

“Aye, my lord,” said the cupbearer, filling their goblets. When the boy went to fill Bedivere’s cup, he stopped him.

“Nay. I’m drinking ale,” he told the boy.

“I was pleased to see you arrive to compete for the earl’s lands and castle,” said Lady Ernestine, leaning over to talk to him. “I have already seen you compete in the sword fight and joust from when you were here vying for Lady Willow’s hand in marriage. Therefore, there is no need for you to show me your skills again.”

“Aye, and thank you, my lady. If you remember, I won the sword competition,” he pointed out as he scooped root vegetables onto their plates and then added a thick brown gravy over their venison.

“You are my guest and a favored one at that,” said Ernestine, sounding enamored with him. “You really don’t have to serve us, my lord.”

“Nonsense. It’s my pleasure and the least I can do for the late earl’s wife. I want to make sure both his ladies are well taken care of.”

“I was only his ward,” Morag reminded him, taking a bite of food.

“Sir Bedivere, Morag asked me a question that I wasn’t able to answer,” Lady Ernestine told him.

“And what would that be?” he asked, taking a swig of ale, his preferred beverage.

“She questioned where your castle was and I couldn’t answer because I don’t believe I know.”

Bedivere almost chokedon his ale when he heard Lady Ernestine’s words. That was one question he wasn’t prepared to answer.

“Aye, what is the name of yer castle?” asked Morag, looking up shyly from her goblet. “It must be a big one, since I hear ye are rich.”

He was in a bind now and had to say something to suffice them. But if he lied, there were so many knights showing up every day that one of them would smell a rat. As it was, he wasn’t sure that word hadn’t gotten out about his father’s execution and the imprisonment of his family. But this was a chance he had to take. In another week or so, he’d be out of here and headed to safety and a new life with his family in Scotland.

“I currently don’t have a castle,” he told them, which wasn’t a lie. “I tend to travel a lot, and wouldn’t have time to tend to matters.”

“Oh, so ye have one of those huge manor houses then?” Morag popped a piece of cheese into her mouth.

“Well aye . . . I have . . . a house,” he repeated, feeling very hot all of a sudden. He didn’t like to be cornered and felt like he was trapped between two women who were going to needle him with questions until he could no longer hold back the truth. “Excuse me, but I believe my squire needs me.”

“Yer squire? I dinna even see him,” said Morag looking out at the crowd in the great hall. “Where is he?”

“I’ll be back,” said Bedivere making a beeline for the door. He saw his brother standing in the doorway to the kitchen flirting with a servant. “Percival, come here.” He grabbed his brother’s arm and hauled him out to the courtyard with him.

“Where are we going?” asked Percival, sounding very grouchy to have been disturbed. “I was just getting to know that buxom kitchen wench.”

“You’ll have to get to know her at a later date because, right now, we need to come up with a plan of how we’re going to save Mother.”

“A plan?” Percival licked his lips, savoring the last thing he ate. “You got the girl to sign the bastards up for the competition, so there is nothing we need to do until they arrive.”

“Wrong,” snapped Bedivere. “And don’t talk so loud, someone might hear you. I need you to help me pull off this last job.”

“How so? Don’t think I’m going to touch a one of the bastards because I won’t. I’m not crazy.” Percival held out his palms and shook his head. “Personally, I don’t see how you’re going to take down all three of them by yourself.”

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