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Chapter Eight

F uck, fuck, fuck !

James rarely swore in his head, much less out loud, but if ever an occasion warranted it, this was it. He planted his axe in the birch in front of him, unleashing his fury on the hapless tree. Margaret was with child. His child.

A child who might die, like all the others.

Another swing of the axe separated a small branch from the tree trunk. As awful as it was, the fact that she was with child wasn’t even the worst of it. He might have been able to push aside his fears long enough to calm down and remember that not all children died. But Margaret was carrying a child he didn’t even remember conceiving. As far as he knew, the two of them had never slept together. So how was this possible? All day yesterday after leaving her in the bailey and all night he’d asked himself the same question, all morning he’d tried to find an answer as he hacked at the trees, without managing to come up with a single one.

Abandoning the axe, he slammed a fist into the oak to his left and howled when his skin split on the bark and pain reverberated all along his arm. Damn it all, he was too old to be so rash! Breaking his arm wouldn’t help in any way.

“Fuck!” he exploded again, cradling his fist against his stomach. This was a disaster.

Because the biggest problem of all was not his fear of the baby dying, or the worrying memory lapse concerning its conception, it was the consequences Margaret’s revelation would have on his life. If she was really carrying his child, then he would have to marry her. Which meant nothing could ever happen between him and Carys.

Fuck. This time the word didn’t pass his lips. It only split his skull.

He couldn’t be without her now, and he wasn’t sure how he was going to survive this last, awful loss.

“Is there a problem?” a tentative voice, coming from behind him.

Yes. You could say that.

He turned to face Carys, who was looking at him with wide blue eyes. She had gone into the forest as she did most days, to forage for Avice. With her basket full of leaves and her green dress, she looked like a spring nymph, whereas with his dark clothes and bleeding hand he most likely resembled a demon from the underworld. In other words, they were two creatures that could never be reunited.

Damnation! Only the day before he had resolved to go to her and open up about his intentions regarding a possible future together. A moment later he had been told it would never happen, all because of a woman he did not want but might well have to marry and a babe he did not remember fathering, a child who had reawakened the fears he’d worked so hard to suppress.

Oh, the irony of it. Richard had once told him his story, how he’d been prevented from being with the woman he loved because he’d done his duty by the mother of his son instead, a woman he had bedded in a moment of boredom one summer, without really feeling anything for her.

Well, what was happening to him was even worse. He was not paying a hard price for having wanted to indulge his senses, and thought nothing of the consequences, he had done nothing he could claim to regret, because he did not even remember bedding Margaret.

The conception of this baby had to have happened when he was not aware of what he was doing, he had at least established that during his long, sleepless night. It was the only way to explain the fact that he didn’t remember sleeping with his sister-in-law—and the only way to account for it. Had he been of sound mind, he would never have touched Joanne’s younger sister. But if they had slept together while he was delirious with fever, he would have been unable to see the encounter for the mistake it was.

It was not difficult to imagine the scene. Margaret had come to tend to him during the night and he, startled by the appearance of a woman so near to him, fueled by a desire he’d suppressed for too long, unable to think with his head, had drawn her into his arms. Instead of trying to make him see reason, she had surrendered to his caresses, clumsy as they must have been. Hadn’t he noticed that she seemed eager to woo him during his previous visit? She would have thought she’d won at last, maybe hoped he would agree to start a relationship with her.

It would have been a blow to realize in the morning that he had no recollection of what had happened, and no intention of staying with her. But it was hard to sympathize, for what else could she have expected? It would have been obvious he had no idea what he was doing while he bedded her.

No, she would have known deep down that it had meant nothing, save the slaking of an uncontrollable lust. Still, considering she’d been after his favors before their wild romp, he was surprised she had not tried to stop him when he’d left and only come back when she’d discovered she was with child.

Damn it all, to think he had stopped himself from taking Carys that day at the beach and every day since then because he was worried about losing control and getting her with child! And now, as a reward for his efforts, he was told he had fathered a child in a semi-conscious state, on a woman he didn’t feel anything toward, and he had to live with the consequences, this on the day he’d decided to finally push his fears aside.

It was plain cruelty.

“Margaret, my sister-in-law is here,” he said eventually, running his good hand through his hair.

“Yes. I heard she arrived yesterday.” The look Carys threw him made it clear she was wondering why the news should send him into such a state.

“She is.” Dear Lord, how was he to tell her the news? If, as he had cause to think, she had feelings for him and hopes for a future together, his declaration would be a blow. In the end he decided it was best to be blunt. She would be used to it by now. “She claims to be carrying my child.”

Cary’s face fell at the same time as his chest caved in. Having said the words out loud had made the situation he was facing all too real.

“I see.” Her gaze flickered to his mangled hand. “And the prospect frightens you.”

Frightened, horrified and angered him all at once. He didn’t want to end his life as Margaret’s husband. He didn’t love her, or even feel any particular affection toward her. A few weeks ago he’d thought they would never set eyes on each other again and the prospect had suited him just fine. And more to the point, he’d had other plans, plans involving another woman.

A woman who looked as crestfallen as he felt. Fuck, he’d been right, she had feelings and hopes, and she was struggling not express them, so as not to add to his burden.

Carys was struggling to absorb the news she’d just heard. James was going to be a father? She didn’t know whether to be devastated on behalf of her poor heart, which had difficulty beating normally, or filled with pity for what he must be suffering right now. His bleeding hand and scowling face were enough to tell her he felt nothing like Matthew felt at the prospect of the imminent birth.

Then she stilled.

He’d said the woman “claimed” to be carrying his child. Which meant he had his doubts.

“You don’t believe her claim?” She had to cling to the hope that this was a mistake that could be resolved somehow, because otherwise, it would be a disaster.

James hesitated, as if unsure whether to voice his concerns or not. In the end, to her relief, he seemed to conclude he could tell the truth because she wouldn’t judge him.

“Honestly? I don’t know what to think. She looks no different to her usual self, which doesn’t help. It’s only been four months since I left her cottage, of course, so it’s possible she wouldn’t be showing yet but … ” Black eyes skewered her while he delivered the blow. “Here is what troubles me. I can’t even remember bedding her. All I know is that whatever happened between us happened without my real consent and full knowledge. I was feverish for days on end while in her care and don’t remember anything. I have no choice but to trust her word, and I’m not sure I want to, or can.”

As declarations went, this one was rather shocking but Carys did her best not to react. James was having enough difficulty handling the news. He didn’t need her to make him feel even worse.

He ran a hand through his hair again. There was stubble on his jaw, betraying the fact he had not shaved that morning. Carys had rarely seen him so unkempt or agitated, would not even have believed he could get so agitated.

“Something feels odd. I know I would never have slept with her had I been in my right mind and find it hard to believe I would have wanted to, even when feverish … I’ve never felt any desire for her, or even really liked her, God forgive me. But considering the state I was in, there is no telling what I did. It’s possible I did something so unlikely.” He kicked the tree in front of him. “This is a nightmare, like being told you broke a bone slipping on a frozen lake when you can’t recall having gone there in the first place and your arm is intact.”

Yes. She could imagine it would be hard to accept. It was not an insignificant thing either. This lapse in judgment, if one could call it that, could have lifelong, potentially disastrous consequences. They had better make sure everything was as Margaret claimed. James was scared to death; she had to do what she could to help. She could not let him face this alone.

“Would you like me to go talk to her, see if I can find out a bit more?” she offered. “She doesn’t know me, and has no idea that I know you. If I pretended I’m no one of importance and care not one way or another about what happens between you, she might allow me into her confidence.”

James’ eyes lit up for the first time since she had come to him that morning. The hope shining in them was enough to convince her she should speak to Margaret. If there was any way she could get him out of this nightmare, she had to try.

“You would do that?”

“Of course.”

She would do so much more for him. As if he’d understood what she hadn’t dared say, he took her hands in his and drew her close. “Thank you, Carys.”

Oh, his name in his mouth! She willed her heartbeat down.

“Wait. It might not work, she might not be willing to confide in me,” she cautioned, not wanting him to think his problem was solved. “Or I might find out that she is telling the truth.”

That prospect was terrifying. Because then there would be no coming back. If the woman was indeed carrying his child, he would marry her, whatever his misgivings. A man of honor, he would not abandon her and the babe.

“No, I know. But it means a lot to me that you would even want to try to help.” He leaned in toward her, all masculine intent. “You’re the only one at Sheridan Manor I have told why Margaret is here. Matthew and Branwen have made her feel welcome, of course, but they do not know why she’s here. They think she’s only come for a visit. I didn’t want to say anything until I was absolutely sure I knew where things stood.”

It made sense. She nodded, overwhelmed by his proximity. “All right. Let me see what I can do.”

The sooner they knew where they stood, the better.

“Carys, I?—”

“No. Please.” She stopped the declaration poised over James’ lips and picked up the basket she had deposited at her feet, steeling her resolve. “We’ll talk afterward.”

If you’re free to express your feelings then.

It didn’t take Carys long to locate Margaret. Guessing the woman would be more at ease with the servants than with the lord and lady of the manor, she went straight to the kitchen and found her sitting by the fire, a cup in hand. She was laughing at John, the spit boy, who was doing his best to ignore her taunts.

James had described a small woman, with thin chestnut hair, a pointy face and a sallow complexion. He’d forgotten to mention however, that the result was somehow reminiscent of a mouse. The discovery only spurred Carys onward. A man like James Mortimer, who was a mighty eagle, if she’d ever seen one, could not end up married to a mouse.

As soon as she saw her enter, Avice took her to one side.

“Oh, my lady,” she said, wringing her hands together. Carys let the undeserved greeting pass. No matter how many times she had told her friend she was not a lady, she was the master’s wife’s mother, and that was as good as anything for the cook. “Please help. I don’t know what to do with the woman. She’s getting herself in quite a state with the mead I foolishly offered her earlier. I dare not provoke Master James’ anger by throwing his sister-in-law out of my kitchen, but really, she is disturbing everybody’s work … Poor John is at his wits’ end.”

Carys allowed a grim smile to float on her lips. Margaret was in her cups? Even better, this could only serve her purpose. The woman might be more disposed to talk and not get suspicious so easily if she could not think straight. She did not let her conscience bother her. Every weapon at her disposal she would shamelessly use in her bid to establish the truth—and hopefully free James from a fate he dreaded.

“Leave it to me. I’ll take her away from here.”

“Would you?” Avice looked relieved. “Thank you, my lady.”

“It’s Carys to you,” she reminded her, knowing it was in vain.

Then she turned to Margaret, who was reaching for the pitcher of mead, and plucked the cup from her hand before the woman could fill it up again.

“Come,” she said firmly. “We’ll leave these good people to work while we enjoy the sunshine outside. I was about to go for a stroll round the lists and I could do with some company. It’s always good to meet new people, don’t you think?”

To her relief, Margaret followed her without comment. She really was quite small, barely reaching to her chin, Carys observed, and rather scrawny. Next to James, who was at least a head taller than herself, she would look ridiculous. Not that it signified anything, of course, but still …

Wondering how best to broach the topic, Carys led her to the far end of the lists, toward the west tower. At first she commented on the various features of Sheridan Manor and the fine weather they’d been having of late. Then, once she was certain no one could hear them, she took a gamble.

“I understand you’re James Mortimer’s sister?”

Let’s see how the woman would rectify the mistake. The wrong assumption might pique her ego and make her want to boast about her future with the castle steward. Margaret didn’t disappoint. She giggled and took her arm as if they were the best of friends.

“You are mistaken, I’m afraid. I am his sister-in-law, and soon to be wife.”

Well, that was clear enough. The woman did not doubt what would happen. But was she basing this on anything other than hope? That was the question.

“Congratulations.” It was hard to infuse much warmth in the word when her mouth felt as if it had been filled with ash but Margaret didn’t seem to notice anything. “Have you known each other long?”

Another giggle. Or rather another squeak. The woman really was just like a mouse. “I’ve known him for almost thirty years if you’ll believe it. And I’ve been in love with him all this time. My sister met him thanks to me, and yet she was the one who got him in the end. How is that fair, you might ask? We looked very much alike, and our eyes were the exact same shade of blue. There was no reason for him to choose Joanne over me. If he wanted a blue-eyed wife, he could have had me.”

What a stupid thing to say. As if the way one looked was all that mattered. What about the way one smiled, the way one talked? The warmth in their eyes, or lack thereof, when they looked at you, the sensuality in their gestures, the timbre of their voice? And that was even before you considered what was in their minds. Choosing a life partner was a decision based on much more important considerations than the color of their eyes. Margaret had to have drunk more mead than Carys had supposed if she could think things like that, much less utter them out loud.

Or perhaps she was just as unlikeable as James had hinted.

“I can understand why you might have fallen in love with him,” was all she said.

This at least was no lie. Carys could well imagine falling for a man like James. Perhaps she had done more than imagine it. Perhaps she had already fallen for him. What else could explain her reaction when she’d been told she could never have him because he was going to marry another woman, a woman who was carrying his child?

Nothing.

Dear God, what a time to realize that you had fallen in love with someone, while she was talking to the woman who would be married to him before the week was out if she were indeed carrying his child.

“Do you know James then?” Margaret sounded delighted by the notion, as if this would only make her revelations more satisfying.

Know him … Carys bit her bottom lip. Yes, one could say that.

A memory of James ordering her to beg to be licked flashed through her mind. She ruthlessly forced it out.

“We have crossed paths on occasion.”

Her whispered answer was brushed to the side as if unimportant. “He’s everything a woman could wish for in a man, is he not? Tall, strong, with eyes that burn a path all the way from your breasts to your … ” Instead of finishing the sentence, Margaret closed her eyes and gave a little moan. But Carys knew exactly where the heat of James’ gaze could reach. The description was surprisingly accurate, even if she hated to admit it. “Dear, oh, dear. You don’t meet men like him every day. The only way I could bear my husband’s touch all these years was by imagining James’ hands on me when he bedded me.”

The conversation was making Carys increasingly uncomfortable but she pushed on. This was not about her, but about finding out what had happened while James had been ill and, the more she heard, the more suspicious she became. He was right. Something was odd.

Margaret leaned in to her, as if about to confide something. Carys forced herself not to recoil when the sickly smell of mead hit her nostrils. She couldn’t betray her discomfort, not yet. “We slept together once more than twenty years ago, you know, the evening of my cousin’s wedding. He thought I was Joanne and he fucked me so thoroughly I almost passed out with the pleasure of it.”

Every single muscle in Carys’ body seized up. The woman had tricked her sister’s husband into sleeping with her? How? Did she even want to know? It could only be a sickening story, one that had nothing to do with what she was trying to find out, so she stayed silent. If she opened her mouth, her contempt would become too obvious to miss, even for a drunken woman, and Margaret would not utter another word.

How could she steer the conversation away from the woman’s unsavory dealings and back to what had happened while James had been in her cottage? In the end, she didn’t have to worry about it. Margaret was only too happy to gloat.

“I never forgot the pleasure he gave me that night so when he came to see me back in the summer, I thought I would die with happiness.” She sighed. “But he didn’t seem interested in what I had to offer. Fortunately, he fell ill before he could leave for good. I could not believe my luck. Having him naked and all to myself in a bed night and day was the best thing that could have happened to me.”

The best thing? James had gone to her because two of her children had died in tragic circumstances. Then he had been so ill he’d fought for his life. And all Margaret could think was that she’d had him all to herself in bed. Carys thought she might be sick. What had the woman done while he lay at her mercy? It was little wonder James didn’t remember sleeping with his sister-in-law if Margaret had stroked him while he was unconscious and taken her pleasure without his knowledge or consent.

Was it even possible to make love to a man in such a state? To get him aroused physically while his mind could not fight the physical sensations, enough to allow intercourse to happen? She had no idea and, in truth, the less she thought about it, the better.

Bile in her throat, she waited for the rest of the distasteful story.

“I hoped when Joanne died that he might find comfort in my arms. I was freshly widowed myself then, and all available. But he never even came to see me. I suppose he took advantage of his new freedom to sleep with all the women in the county.”

Carys knew he had done no such thing. He would have been grieving a wife he had loved deeply and too scared of fathering children to even think of going to a woman but she kept her comments to herself. She was finally getting to the heart of the matter, now was not the time to scare Margaret away.

“So I could not believe my luck when he actually visited me after being told about my children’s death. I had feared never to see him again. I tried to entice him into staying for good while he helped my son Henry build the barn, but he didn’t seem to notice my interest, or if he did, he pretended he did not.” A snort, betraying her displeasure. “Then finally, fate decided I deserved more than being ignored and made sure I got the opportunity to spend more time with him.”

“You mean, by striking him down with a fever that nearly killed him?”

The sarcasm was utterly lost on Margaret, who smiled a beatific smile. “Yes. It was the perfect opportunity to ensure I had unlimited access to his body.” Her eyes became dreamy and Carys could not repress a shudder. What had the depraved woman done? She disentangled her arm from Margaret’s, finding it unbearable to touch someone who thought nothing of preying on vulnerable men. “After I nursed him back to health, I thought he would see that I could make him happy but he left as soon as he was able to, with barely a thank you. So, in the end, I had no choice but to come up with a plan. I refuse to wait another thirty years for him, do you hear? I don’t see why I should have to.”

Carys wanted to flee before she heard sordid details that might push her over the edge but she could not give up now, not when she was too close to finding out the truth.

“What plan did you come up with?” she forced herself to ask. “It must have been a clever one.”

The flattery worked. Margaret simpered and took her arm again. “It was. James will marry me if he thinks I am carrying his child. He’s too honorable to refuse me and the babe his protection. He’s not to know he was unable to actually reach his release while ill with the fever, only hard enough to allow me to reach mine.”

Carys’ heart skipped a beat when hope surged through her. Had she heard right? Pushing the image of a naked Margaret riding an unsuspecting James to the back of her mind, she asked, desperate to make sure she had not misunderstood. “You mean you’re not really with child?”

There was another of Margaret’s awful squeaky giggles. Why the woman thought the situation was funny in any way was beyond her.

“Not at the moment, no. But once we are married, I suspect it won’t be long before I give him a son. I’m still young enough and I will make sure he fills me up with his seed time and time again. With a man so virile in my bed, it shouldn’t take long for my womb to quicken.”

“No, it should not.” Carys had no idea how she had not retched yet. “But how are you going to explain to him that your body is not changing in the next few weeks? Won’t he get suspicious?”

It had already been more than four months since James had left her house. Next month she would be halfway through her supposed pregnancy. It would not be long before he started asking questions. As he already had doubts, he might decide to wait until he could see with his own eyes he was going to be a father.

Margaret shrugged, as if that were of no importance whatsoever rather than the crux of the matter. “I will just tell him once we are married that I lost the babe. It happens. It won’t matter anyway, as by then I will be his wife. It will be too late for him to change his mind.”

Carys was now not simply disgusted, she was horrified. The deception was awful to play on any man. On James, who was mortally afraid of losing another child, it was just plain cruel. Forget the lies, the trick played on him and Joanne that night all those years ago, the taking advantage of him in a vulnerable state, the anguish she had cost him with her lie.

This was what he would never forgive Margaret. With reason.

Having heard all she wanted to hear, Carys led Margaret to a bench and forced her to sit down before she hurried back toward the gate. She had to see James now, and put an end to his agony, tell him that he didn’t have anything to fear. He was not going to be a father.

And he would never have to marry Margaret.