Page 63 of Forgotten Secrets (Secrets of the Heart 4)

“Look. Everyone is goin’ into the great hall now for the meal,” interrupted Fia. “Da, Uncle Rook is callin’ ye over. We’d better hurry if we want to get a seat.”

The crowd piled into the courtyard and headed toward the great hall. Lady Ernestine had invited all the men competing for her husband’s holdings and their squires and families who were present, to join in a celebration feast. The castle was large and elaborate since the late earl had a lot of money. There was no shortage of food, wine, or ale. The lady of the castle wanted to make her last gathering one to remember.

“Reed, get your arse over here. I’m hungry,” shouted Rook to his brother.

“Let’s go, Reed.” Maggie took her husband’s arm. “We can talk about all this later in private. There will be plenty of time.”

“This is far from over, Daughter,” said Reed, throwing her a menacing glance and heading away with Maggie to the great hall.

As soon as they left, Morag took her sister’s arm. “Thank ye for helpin’ me ward off the wrath of Da, Fia.”

“Morag, ye already slept with Bedivere, didna ye?” asked her sister in concern.

“How did ye ken?”

“I could tell by yer body language.” Fia shifted her baby to the other side. “And I can also tell that somethin’ more than just marryin’ Bedivere is troublin’ ye. Did ye want to tell me what it is?”

Morag bit her lip, wanting more than anything to tell her sister about Bedivere’s troubles as well as to tell her about Mazelina and every thought that had been going through her head since she got here. But she was sworn to secrecy. To keep quiet was the hardest thing she had ever had to do in her life. Besides, she had already broken her silence when she had told Willow, so she didn’t want to tempt fate any more than that.

“I wish I could, Fia, but I canna break a promise I made no’ to gossip.”

“If ye’re involved, it’s no’ gossip,” Fia pointed out.

“But if I say anythin’ right now . . . somethin’ bad might happen.”

“Then all the more reason to say somethin’. If ye willna tell me, then at least tell Da. Mayhap, he can help ye.”

“Nay, Fia, no’ Da! He’s the last person I can tell my secret to right now.”

* * *

Bedivere slowly pushed openthe solar door, holding his dagger under his cloak. The assassin dressed like the healer finished pouring a potion from a bottle into the cup that Rowen held in front of him. It was poison. Bedivere was sure of it. He had to stop Rook before he drank it.

“Sir Rowen, how are you feeling?” Bedivere held his dagger under the folds of his robe as he approached the table.

Rowen was about to take a drink and stopped, putting the goblet on the table and looking up to answer.

The assassin’s head jerked around and he silently glared at Bedivere.

“I’m about to find out,” said Rowen. “The healer has made a potion that he says is guaranteed to stop my stomach from aching.”

“I’m sure he has.” Bedivere strolled closer to the table, keeping his eye on the assassin at all times. “I came to tell you that Reed and his family have just arrived.

“Reed is here? I’d like to see him,” said Rowen.

“The crowd is filling up the great hall and Reed said if you don’t come right away, he’ll give away your spot at the table.”

“That sounds like my two-faced brother,” Rowen answered with a chuckle. “He’ll probably do it anyway just so there’s more food for him. I’d better get down there right away.”

He stepped away from the table but the healer stopped him. “Sir Rowen, you had better drink your healing potion before you even think of eating a thing.”

“Aye, I almost forgot.” Rowen reached out for it, but Bedivere couldn’t let him drink the poison. He reached out for the cup at the same time.

“I’ll get it for you,” Bedivere told him, purposely knocking over the cup. The potion spilled out and spread across the table, dribbling down to the floor.

“You bastard, you did that on purpose,” growled the healer under his breath.

“What did you call him?” asked Rowen, looking at the healer in a not-so-friendly manner, not liking the word bastard used in his presence.

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