"Show him in."
Morgan waited until both messenger and housekeeper had gone, then unsealed the scroll. Something fell from the scroll and dropped to the desk. An earring, Morgan realized as he picked it up. His eyes narrowed. An earring made of dazzling diamonds and amethysts.
He read the words with a growing sense of revulsion. For long minutes he stared into the flames of the fire, reliving all the shame and pain and horror of his past. With a savage oath he tore the message into small pieces and dropped them one by one into the flames. Then he strode across the room and picked up his sword.
This time they were not dealing with some pink-cheeked lad whose head was filled with noble thoughts. This time he would dispose of the lady himself. And her lover.
As he raced from the room the words of the message rang in his mind.
"I have once again seduced the woman you love. And this time she has brought me your treasure even before the wedding. I have enclosed proof of her loyalty."
Through a haze of pain Brenna watched as Windham calmly continued eating his meal. Her head still swam from his blows. She struggled to clear her mind. Somehow she had fallen into a trap. He had said he was expecting her. But why? And what had the jewels to do with all of this?
So many pieces to a puzzle. But until they were all in place, she was left with only questions. She must bide her time. And watch for a chance to escape.
"So you came for the jewels?" He broke off a joint of fowl and began to eat.
Brenna was instantly alert.
"Aye."
"Has Morgan missed them?" He washed down his food with a swallow of ale.
Nay. "" So He grinned.
"Your conscience has gotten the best of you."
"Aye. I had no right to give away what was not mine."
"And what about that which is yours to give?"
His gaze roamed the bodice of her gown, making her feel soiled. She thought about the serving wench's description of Windham. His eyes were undressing her.
She gauged the distance to the door. She would never make it. But if she were to find some way to distract him, she might be able to run to safety.
"I am not loose with my favors." She struggled to hide the revulsion she felt at the thought of this man's touch.
"And your own queen has decreed that I am to be betrothed to Morgan Grey."
"You are not yet betrothed. Besides" -he smiled and dropped the linen napkin on his plate "--if Grey were dead, you would be free to wed another."
Dead? Morgan? Was this what it was all about?
Lord Windham scraped back his chair and strolled to the window. He watched as a horse and rider moved up the lane in a cloud of dust.
There could be but one man who would whip his mount into such a frenzy.
He felt a curl of excitement begin deep inside him.
He heard the slight swishing of skirts and turned just in time to see Brenna racing toward the door.
As her hand closed over the door pull, Windham caught her by the hair, yanking her head back with such force that tears stung her eyes. He slammed her against a wall, then pinned her there with both hands firmly against her shoulders. When her eyes could focus, she realized he was holding her knife, the knife Morgan had given her, to her throat.
His face was inches from hers. His eyes blazed with fury.
"Little fool. Did you think I would get this close to my goal and let it slip through my fingers?"
"It is Morgan, isn't it?" Brenna felt herself very close to hysteria.
"That is what you scheme. To somehow lure Morgan here and kill him."
His shrill laugh sent a new wave of fear coursing along her spine.
"Your lover is already here. Any minute now he will step up to meet his death. But Grey is only half of the plot. The other half is even better."
Brenna felt the cold steel of the blade as it was pressed to her flesh.
She was certain that nothing could cause her more pain than the thought of Morgan's death. But Windham's next words caused her to freeze in absolute terror.
"When Grey is eliminated," he muttered, "the queen will be without her protector. And the future of England will be in my hands."
Chapter Twenty-three
1 he serving wench directed Morgan up the stairs, then watched as he took them three at a time. How she wished she could see the faces of the two lovers when this one burst upon them. His features were distorted with rage. His hand was already on the hilt of his sword.
Morgan had been unable to think, to reason, on his journey from Greystone Abbey. The only thought that drummed in his mind was that this could not be happening again.
Even now Morgan could not believe that he would find Brenna with Windham. Despite the message, despite the horse at the railing that he knew to be from his stables, he harbored the glimmer of hope that it was all some horrible mistake. The woman who had shared his bed, the woman he loved more than life itself, was incapable of the deed Windham had described. But in some small corner of his mind remained the knowledge that it had happened to him before. And it was happening to him again.
He did not bother with the formality of knocking. With a booted foot against the door he sent it crashing inward. He strode inside, his sword drawn, then stopped in midstride.
Windham stood across the room, holding Brenna captive in his arms.
With one hand he held her arms behind her back. His other hand held a dagger to her throat. Morgan's own dagger.
"You came so quickly. Grey." Windham's voice was strangely high-pitched with excitement.
"I hardly had time to prepare." He laughed, high and shrill.
"I'd hoped to have the lady lying in bed with me, just to add to your discomfort. But alas the lady would not cooperate."
Morgan's eyes narrowed as he studied the scene before him. From Brenna's disheveled appearance, he knew that she had put up a brave battle. But she would be no match against the cruel Windham. Still, it was enough to know that she was not a willing party to this.
"Why are you here, Brenna?" Morgan's voice was calm. Too calm.
Brenna recognized the terrible control he was exerting on his temper.
"I persuaded the lady to pay Cordell's gambling debt."
Morgan ignored Windham.