"Aye. You are," Edda agreed. "What are we going to do about that?"

G.o.dfrey hesitated, his eyes sliding back to Merry, and she thought she saw a brief struggle on his face, but then he said, "Kill her, too."

"Nay. Then I shall surely be left homeless and penniless," Edda said, and then added grimly, "And trust me, nephew, does that happen I will not keep my mouth shut about your gambling here."

"Well, we cannot let her live," G.o.dfrey argued, his brief moment of regret apparently gone. "She will see us both hanged."

"And if she dies without producing an heir, the castle will go to Evelinde and her husband and they shall surely cast me out," Edda snapped. "'Tis why it was done this way if you will recall. She was to get with child, then Alex was to die, and she was to follow once the babe was born and I could remain as his or her guardian and Lady d'Aumesbery for a good twenty years more, or longer if I could manage it. I will remain Lady of d'Aumesbery."

Merry's eyes were wide as she suddenly understood what had seemed so incomprehensible before. "Ye were dosing Alex to make him randy, not appear drunk and cause trouble between us."

Edda waved that away with irritation. "The slurring and staggering were an unfortunate side effect. The tonic was a combination of things to make him bed you often and well and get you with child. I also dumped some emetic in the soldiers' ale in the barracks to ensure they became ill so that Alex had to delay the trip. And I was giving you a tonic as well to strengthen you to accept his seed." She smiled slightly and added, "However, your tonic had no side effects, unpleasant or otherwise."

Merry's eyes narrowed at these words, but she merely said, "That is why ye were askin' about me being with child ere we headed to Scotland."

Edda smiled. "On your wedding night you told me you'd last had your woman's time two weeks earlier. When three weeks pa.s.sed after the wedding and-no doubt-repeated beddings without its return, I knew my tonic had worked and you were with child." She shrugged. "There was no reason to delay killing Alex. An accident on his journey to Scotland seemed the safest bet." She turned angry eyes to her nephew and added in harsh tones, "However, the boy messed that up like he does everything."

While G.o.dfrey stiffened and puffed up with outrage at the angry words, Merry had no interest in them whatsoever and asked, "But why continue on with the tonic on the trip then if ye thought I was carryin'?"

"There was extra left over," Edda said with a shrug. "I had made up an awful lot, expecting to have to dose him for longer than I did, and it did seem beneficial that the side effects made him clumsy and slow thinking. I thought he would be easier for G.o.dfrey to handle did he continue dosing him. Howbeit," she added, turning a glare on the lad, "he messed that up, too, dosing himself by accident."

"I told you, it was not an accident. I slipped into the tent and dosed Lord Alex's wine while they were out checking the cut I gave her mare-"

"The cut was yer doing?" Merry interrupted.

G.o.dfrey nodded. "Just a small one, a nick. I had to point right at it before Allan even noticed it," he added with disgust. "But then you two came out to look as I knew you would and I slipped into the tent to put the tonic in his wine."

"Too much tonic," Edda said grimly and complained to Merry, "He doubled the dosage I told him to use and then was foolish enough to drink it himself."

"You told me two portions," G.o.dfrey argued.

"I told you one."

"Two," the boy insisted, and then added, "And I knew what I was doing when she pressed the tonic on me, but what could I do? Admit there was tonic in the wine and refuse to take it?"

Edda opened her mouth to snap back, but paused and turned a confused and suspicious glance Merry's way as she suddenly began to laugh. "What are you finding so funny, Merewen Stewart?"

"Merry d'Aumesbery," she corrected, sobering only slightly, and then explained, "I am laughing because the two o' ye are ridiculous. Ye're a pair o' jesters, too clumsy and foolish to succeed at anything."

"Is that right?" Edda asked grimly. "And yet your husband is about to die."

"And ye'll still have naught," Merry said with a shrug despite the fact that her heart ached at the thought of Alex dying. It wasn't going to happen could she help it, but she was still searching for a way to save them both and it was not looking good.

"We shall have you, and the child you carry," Edda pointed out, and when Merry opened her mouth, quickly went on, "You are about to say that you will surely turn us in the first chance you get. Howbeit, you will not get the chance. The tonic I gave Alex is not the only one I know. My mother was a master of herbs and tonics, and all things healing as well as not so healing in nature. I shall simply keep you full of one of the many that will leave you silent and your mind scrambled until the babe is born, and then you shall die giving birth...even if I have to smother you with a folded fur to do it."

Merry nodded slowly at these words, but then said, "Actually, I wasna goin' to say I would tell. I was goin' to say I'm no' carryin' a child."

Edda blinked several times, her mind apparently having difficulty accepting this, and then disbelief filled her face and she shook her head, "Nay. Your woman's time-"

"-has always been undependable; sometimes late, sometimes no' coming at all," Merry said with a shrug. "It used to worry me, but me mither told me she was the same way and I should ha'e no problem conceiving. Howbeit, I havena yet," she added pointedly.

"But-"

"Alex didna even bed me until the night ere the journey to Scotland," she announced triumphantly.

"But the blood," Edda protested with alarm.

"I told ye I cut me leg."

"But you said-"

"I told ye what ye wanted to hear, Edda," she said dryly. "The truth is, though, that after ye'd all departed that night, Alex got out o' bed to close the door properly, stumbled over some clothes on the way back, and knocked himself out. He wasna conscious and couldna consummate." Merry smiled her satisfaction and then said, "So, ye can do what ye like, but there'll be no heir to keep ye here as Lady d'Aumesbery. Ye will be homeless and penniless, for Evelinde will inherit, and she kens ye too well to be fooled by yer sweet smiles and kind words. She'll put ye out ere Alex and I are even placed in the family crypt."

Fury crossed Edda's face, but 'twas like lightning, there and gone quickly. A look of determination followed that was somehow more frightening than the fury could ever be. "That little b.i.t.c.h will never put me out. There will be an heir," she announced grimly. "I shall just keep you dosed as planned and have G.o.dfrey at you every night until you begin to grow with one. And then-"

"The h.e.l.l you will!"

Merry glanced sharply toward her husband to see that he had regained consciousness. In fact, judging by his expression and the speed with which he regained his feet now, she suspected he'd regained consciousness shortly after she'd arrived and had heard most of the explanations. He looked more than angry, he was enraged, and it was enough to make G.o.dfrey back away, wide-eyed.

"Stop him, you fool, else we are both done for," Edda snapped, even as she grabbed Merry by the arm and jerked her against her. The knife was at her throat ere Merry had fully come to rest with her back against the woman's chest, and she winced at the pressure of the cold steel on her throat. Her eyes automatically sought out her husband. When she saw that Alex had paused, his sword only half drawn as he saw her peril, Merry knew she would have to do something. She would not have him give up his weapon to save her. That would only see them both dead.

Movement from G.o.dfrey drew her eyes then and she saw that the lad was taking advantage of Alex's distraction and rushing him with his own sword drawn. Ignoring the knife at her throat, Merry shouted a warning and then grabbed for Edda's arm and slammed her slippered foot down on one of Edda's even as she forced the hand away. Merry's actions were instinctive, things she'd been helping to train the Stewart men in since she was sixteen. She didn't think, but simply followed the training, pushing against Edda's wrist, and whirling out from between her and the knife. Edda, of course, was pulling at the weapon, trying to stab at her with it and prevent her escape. The moment Merry was out from between the knife and Edda, she reversed the pressure, adding her own impetus to Edda's so that the woman actually stabbed herself.

Both of them froze as the knife slammed into the base of her throat, and Merry found herself staring into Edda's startled, angry eyes, and then the life slipped from them and Merry released her as she began to sink to the floor of the tower roof.

She turned immediately to her husband then to find him in battle with his squire. His attention had obviously been only half on the fight as he'd kept an eye on what was happening with her. She saw the relief on his face as he noted that she was no longer in danger, and then Alex turned his attention wholly to G.o.dfrey.

"You cannot win, boy, you know that. Give it up and live."

"Live how?" G.o.dfrey asked bitterly. "In one of the cells in d'Aumesbery's dungeon? I think not, my lord. You shall have to kill me."

"So be it," Alex said quietly, and Merry turned away, not wishing to watch him have to kill the lad. Her gaze dropped to the woman lying at her feet, and she felt her mouth tighten. This was all her fault. Edda had brought about her own death as well as her nephew's, and Merry had no idea how they would tell Lady and Lord Duquet what had come to pa.s.s.

In the next moment the clang of swords ended with a grunt of pain. It was followed by a silence that made her bite her lip and then glance around just to be sure the end she'd thought had come and that G.o.dfrey had not somehow got in a lucky blow. She found Alex kneeling beside the lad, smoothing the hair from his face and listening to something the boy was whispering to him. Merry stayed where she was, not wishing to intrude, but knew the moment when the boy drew his last breath by the way her husband's shoulders slumped and he bowed his head.

She moved to him then and rested one hand on his shoulder. Alex didn't respond for a moment and then he lifted a hand to clasp hers, and they remained like that a moment. It was how Gerhard found them when he rushed onto the tower roof moments later. Merry glanced around at the clank of metal that announced his arrival and raised one surprised eyebrow as the man came to an abrupt halt, his gaze sliding from Edda's p.r.o.ne body to G.o.dfrey's.

"Una told me what you found in the letter and I came to see that all was well," he answered the silent question, and then added, "I take it, it was Edda and G.o.dfrey behind it after all."

Merry nodded silently and then glanced to her husband with surprise when he rose beside her and said, "The lad died saving us from his aunt."

Gerhard gave a slight start at these words, his eyes sliding from Alex to her, and Merry realized that her own expression would give away the lie, but had trouble controlling it just then.

Alex must have realized it, too, for he slid his sword back into his sheath and scooped her up into his arms, meeting her gaze briefly before telling Gerhard, "Edda had blackmailed him into helping her, but at the last moment he chose the side of right and died for his lord, and that is what we shall be telling his parents."

Gerhard nodded abruptly, accepting what was really an order. "So it shall be."

Nodding, Alex then moved past him, carrying Merry toward the door as he said, "Have both bodies prepared and carried to Duquet. They will no doubt wish to bury their son with honors and can decide for themselves what to do with Edda. She will no longer cast a shadow on d'Aumesbery, not even with her gravestone."

Merry caught a glimpse of Gerhard nodding, and then Alex stepped into the tower and began to descend the stairs. She slid her arms around his neck and peered at his silent, stern face as he negotiated the steps, waiting until he'd stepped out and started up the hall to their room before saying, "That was kind o' ye."

"Fear is an awful thing, and he feared more than anything losing the love and support of his parents."

"Still," Merry began, only to fall silent as he continued.

"'Twas his last request as he lay dying: 'Pray, my lord, do not tell my parents what I have done,'" he quoted, and then added, "He was but a boy, Merry, led astray by his vile, corrupt aunt. He made his choice. 'Twas the wrong one, but I do not hold him responsible as much as Edda and will not have his parents carry his shame as well as their sorrow."

She nodded silently and leaned her head against his chest, thinking that she had a good man to husband.

Epilogue.

W hat has my wife looking so grim and unhappy?"

Merry tore herself from her thoughts and glanced up at Alex as he settled on the bed beside her. It had been eight months since the night on the tower, and she managed to avoid thinking much on it, but found herself pondering Edda and her machinations this day for some reason. She did not tell Alex that, however, but said dryly, "Oh, I do not ken, husband. Me legs are swollen, I am as big as a wagon, and yer bairn has a liking fer kicking me in the stomach that is most distressing. Why would I look grim and unhappy?"

Alex chuckled and bent to press a kiss to her round stomach through the linen covering it and then pressed a kiss to her lips as well, before asking, "Shall I give the boy a good lecture for kicking you?"

"Ye may lecture her diya wish, but I doubt she listens any better than ye," Merry said dryly, and then asked, "And why is it ye kissed the bairn first and me second?"

Alex hesitated and then smiled and offered, "Babe before beauty?"

Merry chuckled despite herself and shook her head, "Oh, ye're a charmer, you are, Alex d'Aumesbery. Let us hope yer son is, too."

Alex arched an eyebrow. "I thought ye were sure 'tis going to be a she?"

"I changed me mind," Merry said with amus.e.m.e.nt. "And diya give me a moment I shall change it again."

Alex chuckled and shifted up to sit beside her on the bed so that he could slip his arm around her. He then presented a scroll he'd kept hidden until then. "Guess what this is?"

"A note from Evelinde and Cullen sayin' they're comin' to visit?" she asked hopefully, and then pointed out, "'Tis their turn."

"Aye, it is their turn," he agreed, and then added, "And they did indeed send a note saying they shall come, but that is not what this missive is."

Merry smiled happily at the news that the other couple was coming to visit, but asked, "So what news is it ye thought was more important than that?"

Alex opened his mouth to answer and then paused and threw one leg over both of hers before admitting, "A note from your father announcing that Kade has finally arrived back at Stewart."

Merry sucked in a long draught of air, instinctively trying to push Alex's leg off so that she could leap off the bed and start preparing. "Get off me legs, Alex. I needs must pack. We must head to Stewart at once, and-"

"Merry," Alex interrupted, his expression stern as he turned her face to his. "I know you have waited forever for Kade to return, and I know you want to go see him, but you are due to deliver our babe any day now. You cannot travel."

"But Alex, 'tis Kade," she moaned miserably.

"I know, but he will still be there after you have had the babe. Or perhaps he will be here before that. There is no reason he could not visit us."

"Aye," Merry agreed at once, her expression brightening. "We could have him visit while Evelinde and Cullen are here. That would be nice."

"Aye, it would," Alex agreed, and they fell silent for a bit as Merry concentrated on what they would do and what she should have Cook make, and- "Now," Alex interrupted her thoughts and drew her to rest against his chest as he asked, "why do you not tell me the truth about what you were thinking about when I entered?"

Merry hesitated, but then admitted, "I was thinking about Edda."

"I suspected as much," Alex said quietly. When she glanced at him with surprise, he shrugged. "You have done it very rarely since that night, but I think I have been aware each time you have thought of her. You get this look of regret as if you felt sorry for your part in her death."

"Aye." Merry sighed. As glad as she was that it was Edda and not they, and as much as she would do everything the exact same again if necessary, it was hard to know she'd had a hand in ending a life. It was a large responsibility to bear, and she found herself occasionally fretting over there possibly being another way she might have handled it that might have prevented anyone dying. Merry shook these grim thoughts aside and added, "But that was not what I was thinking about this time."

"Nay?"

Merry smiled at his surprise. "Nay. Though ye're usually right when guessin' what I am thinkin', husband, sometimes ye're actually wrong, and this is one o' them."

Alex smiled and gave her a gentle squeeze. "Then tell me."

"I was thinkin' on how I grew up sure that men were usually evil sinners and women the saints."

Alex nodded solemnly. "'Tis how it was in your family."

"Aye," she agreed, and then said, "But nay."

When he pulled back to peer at her with confusion, she laughed and explained, "My father and brothers may be drunkards and fools, but they are no' truly evil like Edda was."

"Nay," he agreed solemnly.

Merry nodded and then added, "And I was realizing that me prejudice in thinking that men are evil and women saints blinded me to Edda's true nature."

"You could not know-"

"I was told repeatedly," she reminded him. "And yet even that last evening, after hearing what you thought and what Evelinde had to say, I still couldna believe Edda wasna a good woman until I read the letter and realized that G.o.dfrey was her nephew. That prejudice nearly got us both killed."

"No, it did not," Alex said firmly. "Even had you suspected her, you could not have foreseen what would happen on that tower unless you had known who G.o.dfrey's parents were and you did not know because I never told you."

Merry considered his words silently and felt herself relax a little inside. But she nodded slowly and said, "I see. Then 'tis really yer fault fer no' tellin' me things."

"Aye," Alex said. He then frowned as he realized what had been said, but caught the twinkle in her eyes and started to chuckle. "You are an evil woman, wife."

"And ye're a saint fer puttin' up with me," she said, smiling.

"Then we are a perfect match," he murmured, and kissed her again.

About the Author.