Page 6 of Forgotten Secrets (Secrets of the Heart 4)

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Sir Bedivere Hamiltonof Gaunt rode through the gates of Castle Rothbury feeling extremely unsettled. The last time he was here was about a year ago and, at the time, his cover had almost been blown wide open. Being here wasn’t a good feeling at all.

Lady Willow had discovered his secret profession and it hadn’t sat well with him. She had said she’d keep his secret, but what if she hadn’t? The missive he received from Lady Rothbury asking him to apply for the late earl’s holdings came at the same time as his orders for his next job. He was to wait here until further notice. Being suspicious of everyone, he couldn’t help thinking this all might very well be naught but a ploy to expose him as an assassin.

“Why the hell did Whitmore choose this place to give me my next assignment?” he grumbled to himself, thinking about the king’s advisor, a man he hated more than anyone he had ever met in his life. He scanned his surroundings, always aware of what went on around him at all times. He had to be this way. It was the nature of the job. Usually, a contact met with him, giving him the missive that would tell him the name of his next kill.

However, his orders were usually given in private. This place was much too busy for anyone to be discreet. The contact would meet him here soon, but it wasn’t to his liking. Still, he had no other choice. And now that he was here, he would have to pretend he was interested in acquiring the late earl’s holdings. If he didn’t, it would be too conspicuous that he had come for a different purpose altogether.

It had been a long two years, but one more assignment is all he had left. After that, he would be finished with this ungodly job forever.

Being an assassin of the king had turned Bedivere into a very ruthless, bitter, cold-blooded man who no longer had emotions. He had accepted the job in trade to save his life, bringing him out of the dungeon of Whitmore Castle where he had been imprisoned. Bedivere’s life had been spared that day, but in return he had promised to take out a dozen men who were conspiring against the king. Only when he had killed twelve men who were plotting the king’s demise would he and the other captives be set free.

“Lord Bedivere, hello,” called out a female from behind him.

He twisted in the saddle, surprised to see one of the daughters of the Legendary Bastards of the Crown standing there. It was the gossipy one. He couldn’t remember her name, nor did he care. All that mattered to him was that her cousin, Willow, hadn’t told her about his occupation.

“Hello . . . Fia,” he said, hoping that was the right name.

“It’s Morag,” she scowled, her eyebrows dipping down in frustration. “Fia is my sister.”

“I’m sorry that I forgot your name, Morag.”

“It figures,” she mumbled under her breath, raising her chin as if she felt insulted. “Everyone forgets me.”

“Are your cousins here as well?” Looking over her head, he scanned the courtyard.

“Nay. They are all married now and at their new homes with their husbands.”

“Aye. So, does your cousin, Lady Willow, ever . . . talk about me?” He slid off the horse and stood across from her now.

“If ye are wonderin’ if she wishes she married ye, she doesna.” The girl had the audacity to roll her eyes as if the suggestion were absurd. “She never says a word about ye, and neither does she care.”

“Good,” he said, releasing a breath he’d been holding. It seemed Willow hadn’t revealed his secret after all.

“Guid?” asked the girl, cocking her head curiously. Her eyes bored into him and he felt as if she could see clear through to his very soul. That is, if he had a soul anymore, which he sincerely doubted. He was sure all assassins went straight to hell. Either way, he had better watch his step around this one before she spun a tale about him and spread it throughout the castle.

“What I mean is . . . that’s good that she is happy with her new husband,” he corrected himself. “I’m surprised to see you here, Maira.”

“Morag,” she said with a sniff. “How many times do I have to tell ye?”

“Morag. Sorry. I thought you would have gone back to Scotland to be with your sister.”

“I was back in Scotland but now I’m here. And I ken why ye are here, Sir Bedivere, and I must say it disgusts me.”

“You do?” Bedivere’s heart sped up. Mayhap he had been mistaken and Willow had talked after all. The last thing he needed was this one to know the truth. All of Christendom would know what he did for a living if she got wind of it.

“Aye. Ye want the late earl’s castle and lands for yerself, but ye dinna need them. I hear ye are one of the richest knights in all of England.” She had a smug look on her face as if she felt proud of herself for knowing this. It didn’t impress him since it was a rumor he had started himself.

“Aye,” he said, building on what she thought she knew about him. “I am here to compete for the late earl’s castle and lands. Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because, ye are rich and dinna need it. Leave it for someone like my da who doesna have half of what men like ye have.”

“Men like me?” He perused her from the sides of his eyes. “Now, now, Morag,” he said, stressing her name so as not to roil her again by mistaking her for her sister or her cousin. “I am not as rich as you think.”

When he had started the rumors about himself, he hoped by saying he was wealthy that it would form people’s opinions about him. No one would ever question his actions if they respected him for being rich. If only they knew he hadn’t more than a bag of coins, his armor and weapons, a horse, and a change of clothes to his name. He didn’t work for money. He worked for trade. Thankfully, he’d been supplied with the tools he needed for his profession, but that was as far as it went. He didn’t even have a place to lay his head. Nay, Bedivere didn’t have a castle. He didn’t even have a home. Traveling from job to job, he bided his time at functions such as this one, not having anywhere else to go. Everything Bedivere once had was gone now, including his pride and self-respect.

“Well, how rich are ye?” she asked in her meddlesome way. She took a step closer. “What did ye say was the name of yer castle, Sir Bedivere? And where exactly is it?”

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