CHAPTER THIRTEEN

 

Garrick walked through the inner bailey of Berwick Castle the following afternoon, hoping Sir Gilbert would allow him to speak with Sophia’s attacker. He wasn’t certain what to expect from the governor of Berwick. The man had no reason to allow Garrick to question the prisoner, nor could Garrick give him one. Not without revealing his mission here, and that he was not willing to do. He wasn’t inclined to trust anyone in this city, with the exception of Sophia.

The soldier who led him through the bailey said little. From what Garrick had discerned, few of the men in the garrison were the same ones who’d fled Berwick when King Edward had offered them the chance. Sir Gilbert had formed his own garrison when he’d taken over.

Sophia told him Sir Gilbert had recently returned to the city after being gone for several months. Garrick found it surprising the lord would find the time to meet with him when more pressing things must be vying for his attention. When Garrick had requested the meeting, he’d told the steward he was here to negotiate a significant wool trade agreement. That didn’t seem like it would warrant Sir Gilbert’s agreement to speak with Garrick. But he supposed Sir Gilbert had his own source of information.

A man at the tavern the previous night had told him that Sir Gilbert had obtained his Scottish earldom when he’d married his first wife. That earldom put into question his loyalty to England. Most of his holdings were English, but not all, and not his earldom. Did his allegiances change with the tide?

Garrick had decided against telling Sophia of this meeting. She didn’t seem to care for the man, and Garrick remembered quite well her upset after her recent conversation with Sir Gilbert. How odd the governor hadn’t called upon Sophia to inquire as to her wellbeing after the attempted stabbing.

The thick, sand-colored stonewalls of the three-story keep were in good repair, and the grounds of the bailey were well tended. Men-at-arms clad in blue and white livery walked the walls, keeping guard. A few knights and soldiers trained in the bailey, the clash of their swords ringing in the air. The sound of the blacksmith’s hammer beat a steady rhythm to the men’s movements.

Garrick walked with the soldier up the stairs to the keep’s heavy wooden doors. Inside, steep, curved steps led to the upper floors on the left, but the soldier continued into the great hall on the right. A weaponry display and a tapestry showing a white hawk on a blue background graced the wall above the massive fireplace. But what caught Garrick’s attention was Sir Gilbert.

The older man stood before the fire, hands clasped before him as though he had nothing better to do than await Garrick’s arrival. He was a head taller than Garrick and thicker as well. With a full, peppered beard and low bushy brows, his appearance was formidable. He watched Garrick closely as he entered the hall. Garrick could almost see the impressions being formed as he looked him over from head to toe.

Fair enough, as Garrick was doing the same.

“Greetings,” his host said as he stepped forward. “Always a pleasure to meet a fellow Englishman.”

Garrick smiled. “Indeed, though I find there are quite a few of us in Berwick despite the city being north of the border.”

“True. That wasn’t always the case. I suppose we have King Edward to thank for that.” Gilbert gestured toward the head table where a pitcher of ale and two cups awaited them. “Come. Sit. Quench your thirst.”

Garrick didn’t agree or disagree with his comment about the king. He had to wonder if the man was trying to confirm Garrick’s loyalty to England. If only they could believe each other’s answers rather than search for ulterior motives. Garrick waited for the earl to take a seat before doing the same.

“My steward tells me you’re the one to whom I owe my gratitude for Lady Sophia’s safety.” Gilbert filled the cups and handed one to Garrick.

“I was pleased to be of assistance.”

“How...fortunate you were in the right place at the right time.”

“Fortunate, indeed,” Garrick agreed, choosing to ignore the suggestion that more than luck had been involved. “The city would not be the same without her.” The older man raised his brow but Garrick merely smiled and took a drink. “Fine ale.”

“She would be sorely missed by many, including me.” The emphasis he put on the last phrase made Garrick wonder what his intentions were toward Sophia. Did he hope for another wife? “My thanks for saving her life.”

Garrick kept his easy smile despite the image of Sophia as Gilbert’s wife souring his stomach. “Has the man who attacked her given a reason?”

“Nothing believable. His story seems to change, depending on what he thinks we want to hear.” Gilbert scowled as though disgusted with the prisoner. “Did he say anything when you stopped him?”

“Only that the city would be better off without her.” Repeating the words left a terrible taste in his mouth.

The older man shook his head. “It makes no sense. But without her brother’s protection, she is vulnerable in many ways.”

“I would welcome the opportunity to speak with the man. Perhaps I can obtain an answer.” Garrick did his best to hide his eagerness to do so. Hearing information secondhand from Gilbert was less than satisfactory. Garrick wanted the truth, not Gilbert’s version of events.

Gilbert waved his hand in dismissal. “No need for you to go to such trouble. We take care of our own in Berwick.”

“Have you been able to determine who he is or if he was acting alone?”

“Only that he hails from a village north of here. He claims to have done it of his own accord.”

“With a poisoned blade no less.” Garrick shook his head.

“Poison?”

“I don’t know for certain, but the blade was coated in a wet, sticky substance. Poison is the only explanation that came to mind.” The close call still chilled his blood.

“Humph. I had not heard that.” The man appeared truly surprised by Garrick’s news.

“I must say, I’m surprised to learn someone wants her dead. While I have noted a few of the residents of the city hold Sophia to blame for their losses during the siege, most seem to admire her.”

“She’s done much to help many of them despite her own reduced circumstances.”

Garrick decided to press further. “If her attacker holds ill will from the events of two years ago, why did he wait so long before taking action?”

Gilbert held his gaze, revealing nothing. “Why indeed?”

“Do you believe the attack unrelated to the siege?”

“Nearly every event that occurs in this city can be tied back to the siege. Nothing is unrelated.”

Garrick waited, holding his silence to see if Gilbert would share his thoughts on the matter. When he said nothing more, Garrick continued, “Perhaps the man sought vengeance. Maybe he had family that was killed in the attack.”

“Impossible to say. We will have another conversation with him soon. He may have changed his mind about wanting to keep his silence after a few more nights in the dungeon. ’Tis far from a pleasant place.”

Unease crept down Garrick’s spine. Gilbert’s words, along with his cold stare, felt like a thinly veiled threat. Had he discovered why Garrick was truly here? Far worse, could Gilbert be behind Iagan’s death? Though Garrick didn’t expect to gain any sort of confession, he also thought the man wouldn’t be above hinting.

But Garrick could make hints of his own. “Berwick seems to be a violent place. I’m certain you heard of the body that was pulled from the river yesterday.”

“Aye, though to my knowledge, no one has yet identified him. As Berwick is a central marketplace, many strangers pass through its gates.”

“Terrible the way his throat was slit.” Garrick watched for a reaction.

“How do you know this?”

“I was nearby when he was found.”

“Odd how you were near when both events occurred.”

Gilbert’s glare was meant to intimidate, but Garrick refused to be. Not when he had suspicions of his own.

“And odd that they occurred directly after your return to the city.” Garrick kept his tone conversational rather than accusatory. While he knew it might be a foolhardy move, he wanted to gain a reaction from Gilbert.

The older man rose from his chair, hands clenched, forcing Garrick to stand as well. “You sit in my keep, drinking my ale, and say such things?”

“I am merely stating facts. I’m certain I’m not the only one who noted the timing of the trouble.”

“The same could easily be said of your presence,” Gilbert said.

“True, though it would be difficult to find any motivation for me to cause either occurrence.”

Gilbert sat abruptly as though suddenly tired. He rubbed a hand over his face. “Hell’s bones. This city is nothing but trouble.”

Garrick released his grip on the hilt of his sword, sat and picked up his cup to drink, his mouth dry at the quick change of Gilbert’s mood. “Its position on the border alone creates turmoil.”

“That is not the only challenge. The people of this city—” He shook his head as he halted his words. “But it is not only them. Those in power on both sides of the border have created a situation where no one can win.”

Surprised the lord would say so much, Garrick decided empathy would be the best response. “As governor of Berwick, you are in a difficult position. It seems you’d need to please both sides when possible.”

“I have been doing so my entire life, as did my father before me. The passing of time has only made it more complicated. Though a clear heir to the Scottish throne would have made the situation easier in some respects, King Edward is overly ambitious in his desire to control Scotland.”

“True. And he tends to solve disagreements in one way.”

Gilbert held Garrick’s gaze for a long moment before nodding. “Where does that leave men like us who are simply trying to do the best for ourselves and our people?”

“Times are difficult but the future appears to be even more so.”

“I fear ’tis not a problem we can solve. We can only fix what is within our reach.” Gilbert raised his cup. “As such, is there anything I can do to aid your wool trade negotiations?”

Well aware of the deliberate change of subject, Garrick knew he’d gain nothing more from the earl. “Edgar, the merchant, has offered favorable terms for a long-term contract. Based on what he told me, he’s expanding his wool business by building a water wheel. He’s even brought weavers here from Flanders.”

“Ambitious endeavor. The wealthiest merchants are expanding into wool or becoming bankers. Some do both. There’s money to be had in either for the right man.”

Gilbert’s brown eyes gave away little as they conversed. He obviously kept abreast of news from London as he knew about the taxes the king had imposed on goods there.

“I owe much to Lady Sophia as she introduced me to Edgar. Her knowledge of the city and its people is quite impressive.” Garrick tried to prod his host into revealing his intentions by raising the topic of Sophia again. If Garrick hadn’t been watching closely, he might’ve missed the narrowing of the man’s eyes at the mention of the lady. Garrick pushed a little harder. “I was surprised to learn she remains unmarried.”

Gilbert stared into his cup for a long moment, his mouth twisting into a scowl. “Perhaps her stubborn nature is the reason.”

“Oh?” Garrick made certain his tone held surprise. “I haven’t noticed that about her.” He allowed a small smile with the lie when Gilbert glared at him. Obviously the man had witnessed Sophia’s stubborn side as well.

Though Garrick didn’t learn anything significant about Gilbert during their meeting, he still found it helpful. The conversation was one more piece of information Garrick could add to the small amount he’d gathered since his arrival.

Yet who would he provide this information to now that Iagan was gone? More importantly, would he be the next one to end up with his throat slit?

Sir Gilbert emptied his cup and rose from his chair, the movements declaring the meeting over. “I would caution you from spending too much time with Lady Sophia.”

“Oh?”

“The presence of an English knight at her side will do her no favors.”

How many times had Garrick already worried over that? Yet did Gilbert say it as a warning because of his personal interest in Sophia or because of what he knew of this city? He supposed Gilbert felt he was more Scottish than English in this particular circumstance.

As he bid Sir Gilbert good day, he couldn’t help but wonder if he’d already done all he could in Berwick. With no contact, what good was the information he gathered? He’d had no additional visions to point him in the right direction. Nor had his instincts told him how to move forward.

In truth, he had no skills that gave him insight here. He had his cousins’ safety to consider, as well. And if his very presence put Sophia in danger... The idea gave him pause.

Perhaps the time had come to leave this place and return to England where he could speak with the lord who’d given him this mission. Surely he’d prefer someone better qualified or more experienced to continue. Garrick certainly had nothing more to give. He was not the best man for this mission.

The only reason he hesitated was Sophia. But now, thanks to Sir Gilbert’s words, he feared his presence here put her in more danger than his absence would.

 

~*~

 

“What do you think you’re about?” Eleanor’s voice greeted Sophia before she shut the cottage door behind her.

Sophia had spent the morn with Jacques, as well as several new merchants in the market square. The introductions she’d made had produced enough coins to see them through the next fortnight, and she’d been quite pleased with her day thus far.

Until she’d arrived home.

Sophia didn’t bother to hang her cloak on the peg by the door as she was no longer certain she’d remain. Not if Eleanor was in a foul mood.

“To what are you referring?”

Eleanor rose from her chair by the window where she’d been doing needlework. The cottage was empty. Not even Coira was in sight, a sure sign that Eleanor was in one of her impossible moods.

“Your association with that English knight is the talk of the city.”

Sophia felt her face heat as Eleanor’s barb struck true. Hadn’t she feared the same thing? That others would notice the time she spent with the handsome knight?

“Have you lain with him?” Eleanor’s accusatory tone turned Sophia’s concern to outrage.

“Nay, not that ’tis any of your business.”

“The Douglas family’s reputation is already in tatters, thanks to William. The last thing we need is you spreading your legs for whoever catches your fancy and whispers sweet things in your ear.”

A bitter response was on the tip of Sophia’s tongue, but she paused, trying to understand why Eleanor was saying such things. “With whom did you speak?”

“Why does it matter?”

“Because none of those things are true. I have not acted in any manner that would embarrass our family, nor do I intend to. All that I do is so we can place food on the table and have a home in which to live. I have done all in my power to help restore our honor so when William does return, he will have a place here.”

“Ha. This hovel can hardly be called a home.”

“You are welcome to leave at any time. Perhaps you’d prefer to join Sir Gilbert at the keep.”

“If you would do as I suggested and accept his offer of marriage—”

“My brother would have my head if I did so as you well know. But if you throw yourself on Sir Gilbert’s mercy, perhaps he could find a place for you in his household.” Sophia turned and opened the door, anxious to leave Eleanor’s unpleasant company before she said something she’d regret. She paused to look back. “What has you so unhappy that you must try to make everyone around you feel the same?”

Eleanor’s lips tightened into a thin white line.

“We have our lives. I, for one, am grateful for that. And we have each other as well as the hope of a future. When William returns—”

“You mean if he returns.”

“When he returns,” Sophia continued as though Eleanor hadn’t interrupted her, “I want the people of this city to welcome him, whether we continue to live here or not.”

“You intend to leave us, don’t you?” Eleanor glared at her. “You will go with that knight when he leaves.”

“I hadn’t considered such, but it is an excellent suggestion. Perhaps I should ask if Sir Garrick will take Ilisa and Alec and me with him.” She was tired of Eleanor not helping, of her having nothing good to say about any of them.

“Don’t allow me to hold you back. If you choose to give yourself to some English pig who—” She gasped, her gaze holding over Sophia’s shoulder.

Sophia looked behind her to find Garrick standing there.

His blue eyes glittered with anger, his jaw clenched tight. “I would hate to assume you were referring to me, Lady Eleanor, for I don’t believe you know me.”

Sophia held her breath, hoping her brother’s wife would pay heed to the warning in Garrick’s quiet tone.

“Nay, of course not. This is a private conversation. Surely you weren’t eavesdropping.”

“I’d suggest you watch your tongue when the door is open. I would’ve taken offense to being called a pig. And it would displease me to think you were referring to Lady Sophia in anything but a favorable light.”

“As I said, this is a private matter.”

“Then next time, be certain your words are said privately.” He waited a moment until at last Eleanor nodded. “Lady Sophia, may I have a word with you?”

The seriousness of his tone made her wonder if something other than Eleanor’s unpleasant behavior had upset him.

She sincerely hoped not. Enough bad news had already happened this sennight, and she wasn’t certain how much more she could bear.

 

~*~

 

Garrick attempted to rein in his temper but the memory of Lady Eleanor’s biting words made it difficult as he and Sophia walked away from the cottage.

“Please forgive my brother’s wife,” Sophia requested. “She is unhappy and takes her discontent out on everyone else.”

“I don’t care what she thinks of me, but I do care what she thinks and says to you.”

“I appreciate that very much.” Sophia looked up at him, gratitude shining in her dark eyes. “’Tis been a long time since someone has defended me like that.”

“I hope my presence here has not caused you any harm.” He paused and glanced around. He now felt as if his every move was being watched after his conversation with Sir Gilbert. “Is there somewhere nearby where we could speak without anyone watching?”

Sophia searched the area. “There’s a small shop that has remained vacant. That should allow us some privacy.” She led the way to an unmarked door a short distance down an alleyway.

Garrick opened it and found the space empty. He gestured for Sophia to enter and he followed, closing the door behind him.

The interior was dim, slivers of light coming from around the storefront that was firmly closed. While the building offered the privacy he’d wanted, he’d forgotten the temptation of having Sophia alone. Already his senses filled with her, soaking her in as though parched. Her sweet, lavender scent permeated the space.

He braced himself against the lure of her, wishing he had a true reason to stay. Yet it seemed for better or worse, his business here was complete. No reason was left for him to remain. Especially not if his presence here put her in danger.

He took her hands, his eyes adjusting to the dimness. “I’ve come to tell you that my cousins and I will be leaving at first light.”

She stilled then bowed her head. “I see.”

“With luck, I’ll return in a few months’ time to be certain the wool is transported properly.” That was the only reason telling her was bearable—the hope that he’d see her again.

She nodded but still didn’t meet his gaze.

“Sophia?”

She looked up then, the moisture in her eyes hurting him more than anything she could’ve said. “I’ll miss you.”

He drew her into his arms, feeling as though he was letting her down. “I worry for your safety, but I fear that my presence here causes you even more danger.” Hadn’t Eleanor’s words confirmed that?

“I understand. I knew you’d be leaving, but I hoped it wouldn’t be quite so soon.”

The warm feel of her against him had him reconsidering but for all the wrong reasons. Or were his instincts trying to tell him something? He didn’t know. In all honesty, he’d never felt more uncertain in his life.

“Will you be all right?” he whispered. Then realized how stupid it was to ask. He knew what her answer would be.

“Of course.” She eased back to smile at him, unshed tears shining in her dark eyes.

He knew her well enough to understand all she was hiding with that rare smile. Yet what choice did he have but to accept what she said? None, unless he was willing to stay.

He nearly groaned with frustration.

“Sophia, these last few days have been very special to me.” He wasn’t certain how much to say. Their time together had been far too brief to warrant the feelings he had for her. But nor could they be denied. He cared deeply for her. Of that he had no doubt.

She swallowed. “To me as well. I won’t forget you.”

“I hope to see you again in a few months.”

“I look forward to it.” She stepped back, but he didn’t release her.

“I have no right to ask this, but may I kiss you again?” He trailed a finger along the side of her face, appreciating her soft skin all the more.

The look of longing that crossed her face, the way she bit her lip, pierced through him, telling him how much she wanted to say yes. Still she hesitated as her gaze held his, her dark eyes full of regret. At last she reached up to lay her hand along his cheek. “I don’t think that would be wise.”

Something deep inside his chest shifted, squeezing. He nodded. “I understand, but I can’t say I like it.”

“I wish you a safe journey.” She dropped her hands to her sides and drew back. He could almost see her rebuilding her defenses as she lifted her chin.

“Many thanks for all you’ve done for me.” He’d given payment to Chanse who’d promised to pass the small purse of coins to Alec as he’d feared Sophia wouldn’t accept it from him.

“I am the one who is grateful. You saved my life. But I hope I never have to repay the favor.”

Suddenly Garrick’s vision grew hazy, narrowing. Now was a hell of a time to have a vision, he thought, even as the scene took over, filling his senses.

He struggled desperately but couldn’t free himself. Someone held his arms. His mind was sluggish, his thoughts slow. Pain throbbed in his head, his side. He was shoved into cold, dark water.

Panic filled him as it closed over his head, cutting off light. Cutting off air. Only the blurry images of the men holding him under were visible above. His lungs burned for air. Fear choked him as he thrashed, trying to gain his freedom.

Images of his mother and father passed through him. His brother and sister. Sophia. Oh Christ, would they hurt her too?

“Garrick? What is it?” Sophia’s voice came to him as though from a far distance. She held his arm tight, her touch anchoring him.

Yet the vision continued. The light in the water dimmed as he began to lose consciousness, the pain easing as all thought faded.

“Garrick?” The worry in her voice penetrated the images racing through him.

Then the vision was gone.

He drew a deep, gasping breath as his head spun.

Christ. Had he just foreseen his own death?