Page 26 of Forgotten Secrets (Secrets of the Heart 4)

Chapter 9

As much as Morag enjoyed the time she’d been spending with Sir Bedivere, it had been three days now since she’d been to the secret garden.

Everywhere she went, Sir Bedivere had accompanied her. She never realized how much the man liked to talk. He asked her about her father and her family and even about her uncles. He was very interested in her, more so than anyone had ever been before. She liked that. Most men only talked about themselves. Bedivere made her feel more important than anything in his own life. The more time she spent with him, the more she felt like he was the man she wanted to marry, even though he told her she deserved someone better than him.

Getting up before the sun rose, she hurried to the stable, and once again snuck out the postern gate and headed for the secret garden. Each day, the grounds in front of the castle were getting more and more crowded with tents, horses, knights, and squires that were waiting for the start of the festivities. Villagers filled the area trying to sell their wares. Tumblers and jugglers entertained the visitors. There was even a bonfire lit outside the castle every night with men drinking and dancing to the music of the strolling musicians. Every man on the list wanted to get his time with Lady Ernestine, trying to convince her that he deserved to be awarded the earl’s castle and lands.

She highly expected her uncles to arrive any day now. Lady Ernestine had sent special messengers to Whitehaven and Naward to tell Rowen and Rook that they were now on the list and being considered as possible recipients of the late earl’s holdings. She figured she could talk her way out of being reprimanded by them since they both truly would be perfect choices for the prize.

However, what really concerned her was how her father was going to react. After the last missive sent to Scotland, she wasn’t sure he wouldn’t kill the messenger this time. Thankfully, she had talked Branton into going along with the messenger to help keep her father’s anger at bay. Hopefully, Branton could convince him to come to Rothbury after all. Morag told him to do whatever it took to convince her father to join her here.

She headed away from the castle, feeling the cool morning air against her skin. Never had she felt so alive. Her time with Bedivere was exciting and intriguing. Instead of feeling lonely and worthless, she felt completed and beautiful when she was with him. Morag really liked the man and hoped that he would try to kiss her again soon because all she could think about was being in his strong, protective arms.

Anxious to tell Mazelina about Bedivere, Morag rode like the wind, not even aware that she was being watched from the battlements.

* * *

“Where does she go?”Bedivere asked Percival, leaning on the battlements, straining his eyes to see Morag in the dark.

“Who are you talking about?” Percival yawned and leaned back against the wall with his eyes closed. “And why did you drag me up here so early in the morning? I wasn’t done sleeping yet.”

“I’m talking about Morag,” said Bedivere, watching as the girl rode unescorted straight into the dark woods. “What the hell is she thinking? It’s not safe out there. She doesn’t even have that squirrely squire with her for protection. I don’t like it at all.”

“Branton’s been sent to Scotland to collect Morag’s father and bring him back here.” Percival pushed his long, blond hair back and tied it in a queue. “Face it, Brother, Morag might not be safe in the woods all alone, but she’s not safe with you either.”

“Not true.” Bedivere stood up straight, his hands balling to fists as he tried to ignore the anger pulsing through his veins. “I would never hurt her. You need to know that. Morag is a special girl. She is an angel to me.”

“An angel?” Percival chuckled. “It sounds to me like all the time you’ve been spending with her has addled your brain. You are smitten with the wench, aren’t you?”

“Mayhap. What does it matter?”

“It matters because you have played her like a lute to pump information out of her so you can kill her father and uncles.”

“Quiet,” snapped Bedivere. “How many times do I have to tell you to keep your mouth shut about the mission?” His eyes flicked back and forth making sure the guards at the end of the wall walk hadn’t heard them.

“You’ve got yourself into a very awkward predicament,” said Percival, his eyes closing as he spoke. “You say you care for her and want to protect her and that you would never hurt her.”

“Aye. That’s true.”

“Then don’t let her find out who you really are or what you’re about to do or she’s going to be more than hurt. She’ll want to kill you!”

Bedivere realized what Percival said was true. He had let his walls of protection down whenever he was around Morag and that was something he hadn’t done in a very long time now. Ever since he’d turned into an assassin, he’d learned to hide his feelings, burying them deep within himself to the point that he had started to think they didn’t exist anymore. After killing eleven men, he felt numb, and thought caring about anyone besides his family would never happen again. But now, he was no longer sure because he truly cared what happened to Morag.

“Percival, these past few days, I’ve been able to collect information from Morag about her father and uncles.”

“Good. So now you know how you’ll . . . do it?” Percival fell asleep against the wall and let out a loud snore.

“Wake up, you fool.” Bedivere slapped his brother on the shoulder, causing Percival to almost fall over, but catching himself before he hit the ground.

“What? What is it?” Percival’s eyes opened wide in confusion and he grabbed for his dagger, acting like he thought they were being attacked.

“Wake up! And God’s eyes, put away the blade. We’re not being attacked, but I’ve got an important job for you to do. That is why I called you up here.”

“Job? What job?” Percival looked at the dagger and shrugged, then shoved it back into his waist belt.

“Since you’re my contact this time, I need you to go straight back to Whitmore and tell him I’ve changed my mind.”

“Changed your mind? About what?”

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