Page 57 of Forgotten Secrets (Secrets of the Heart 4)

Chapter 18

“Hold still,” commanded Morag, pulling the thread and closing up Bedivere’s wound.

“Ahhh!” He let out a low growl and took another swig of whiskey. “You’ve never done this before, have you?” he complained.

“Nay, I havena,” Morag admitted. “But I am efficient at stitchin’ in the ladies solar, so I dinna see how it is any different,” answered Morag.

“It’s not the same, and my flesh can attest to it. Now hurry up before Rook returns to the solar.”

“I still dinna ken why ye dinna let me call the healer.”

“Because I can’t draw attention to myself,” Bedivere explained. “If Whitmore finds his assassin missing and I’m bleeding, he’ll know what I did.”

“Oh.” Morag tied a knot, leaned over and broke the thread with her teeth. She didn’t want to know the answer to her next question but, still, she had to ask. “So how did ye . . . do it,” she said with a gulp. Envisioning Bedivere slitting a man’s throat wasn’t the vision in her head she wanted about the man she was about to marry.

“It’s better if you don’t know.”

“What did ye do with the body?”

“It’s in a ditch, but I need to go back and bury it before the birds start pecking at his flesh, alerting someone he’s there.”

“Ye canna go back there and do that! Ye can barely lift yer arm.” Morag put the needle and thread back into the basket and closed the lid. “I’ll take care of the task for ye.”

“Nay. I would never let you do such a thing and I don’t want to hear you say something so foolish again.”

“I mean it. I told ye I want to help and I’ll do whatever it takes.” She didn’t honestly want to bury a dead body let alone see or touch it, but she was trying to be supportive. Thankfully, he objected.

The door to the room burst open and Percival entered, followed by a large man, a mature woman, and a whole procession of people, most of them children.

“Percival, what the hell are you doing?” asked Bedivere with a grunt.

“Bedivere,” cried one of the young women, running to him and throwing her arms around him. He cried out when she touched his wound.

“Careful, Sister, I am wounded,” he explained.

“Sister? So this is yer family?” asked Morag, smiling, taking in the sight of so many siblings.

“I’m Elizabeth. Who are you?” asked the eldest of the girls, standing in front of her brother with her arms spread out protectively.

“I’m Lady Morag Douglas. Nice to meet ye.”

Then the big, older man stepped forward, squinting as if he couldn’t see her well. “I am Bedivere’s uncle, Theobald. And this is my wife, Joan.” He nodded to the woman hanging on to his arm. They both bowed to her and the children followed suit.

“There’s no need to bow,” said Morag with a smile. She never felt so important in all her life.

Bedivere introduced the rest of his family. “Morag, these are my sisters, Elizabeth, Avelina, Sarah, Claire, and Rhoslyn.”

“Don’t forget about us,” said one of the young boys pushing the girls to the side and coming forward. The second one who looked like the first one’s twin, followed.

“And these are my outspoken little brothers, Luther and Averey,” added Bedivere, ruffling the hair of one of them. The boy pushed Bedivere’s hand away and made a face. “Percival, why did you bring them here?” asked Bedivere. “I thought I told you to keep them put for now.”

“I didn’t do it. They came on their own,” said Percival. “I found them on the road outside the castle.”

“We wanted to be by you,” said the girl he’d introduced as Sarah.

“We missed you,” added Elizabeth.

“And we also miss Mother,” said one of the twin boys, Morag wasn’t sure which.

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