Pendragon (Sherbrooke Brides 7)

There was some moon, but it was hidden behind dark bloated clouds.

Tim said, “It will rain before midnight, milord. I’m glad we didn’t get caught in it.”

“I just hope it will clear by tomorrow.”

“Why?” Meggie asked as she stuffed her windblown hair back under her bonnet and retied it.

Thomas said, “Traveling by boat is more difficult in bad weather. Women tend to moan and complain and puke their guts over the side.”

“What a perfectly happy thought,” Meggie said and climbed down without waiting for anyone to assist her. Her skirt snagged on the brake, and she very nearly went crashing to the ground. She said a small prayer of thanksgiving that she didn’t fall. She could just see him standing over her, legs spread, hands on hips, sneering at her, treating her like a nincompoop. She said, “How nice it must be for men not to get seasick. Do you think it is due to a man’s natural superiority? Or to a female’s frailty, her inherent weakness?”

“Dammit, some men get seasick.”

She said slowly, tapping her fingers to her chin, “Why did you admit that to me?”

“Because Tim is one of them and you would find out soon enough and point it out to me in a perfectly snide voice.”

“What a fine example of logic. You saved yourself from my ill manners. Goodness, it’s very cold here,” she said as she shook out her skirts.

“Yes, a bit,” Thomas said, then gave Tim instructions while he handed Pen’s reins to a stable boy who was staring at the big black horse. “He won’t hurt you. Just be firm and gentle with him. Tim, go along with the boy, see that everything is taken care of.”

“Pen is a very big horse,” she said, then sighed. “I will miss Survivor, but Rory and Alec need her.”

For the first time since they’d arrived, Meggie turned to look at the inn that was set behind some oak trees. She didn’t see much, just a flapping wooden sign that said The Hangman’s Noose beneath a lantern that hung over the inn door.

Meggie looked from the inn to Thomas. “This is very strange. We haven’t seen a soul except for the stable lad. This place looks utterly deserted. There is only the lantern over the front door and look, it seems there is just a single candle shining out that one front window.”

“This isn’t right at all,” Thomas said, and she heard the alarm in his voice. “No, usually, Bernard’s inn is very busy. Why didn’t the stable boy say anything? Good Lord, I wonder what has happened. I want you to stay here, Meggie.” She didn’t want to, but she saw him pull a pistol from inside his jacket. An eyebrow went up. There was no one else about in the inn yard.

What was going on here?

The sky was filled with rolling black clouds, obscuring any hint of light. She fastened her eyes on that single lone candle set in the window.

Then she knew something was very wrong when she saw Thomas break into a run to the inn, the pistol gripped firmly in his right hand.

She was just behind him in seconds. “I don’t like this.”

He stopped, turned. “I don’t want you here, Meggie. Go back there where it’s safe.”

“Safe with the stable lad? How do you know he’s safe? Where is he, by the way? You don’t think he’s hurt Tim, do you?”

“Don’t be absurd, but you’re right, surely he must know if there is something wrong. Why didn’t he say anything? Stay here. I will see to this. Obey me.”

“No,” she said and fell into step beside him. “This is a very important item on my wife’s list: Keep your husband from harm.”

A black eyebrow went up, but he didn’t say anything, just tried to get in front of her when they reached the inn door. Later he’d be inordinately pleased about what she’d said, but not now. Slowly he opened the door, shoving it slowly, inexorably inward. It creaked loudly, making Meggie’s hair stand up on the back of her neck, making her suck in her breath.

“I don’t like this at all,” she whispered against his shoulder.

“I don’t either. Dammit, stay behind me at least.”

“I’m scared.”

“I am too. Be quiet.”

Thomas walked into the small beam-ceilinged private parlor where the single candle was flickering in the window. It looked like it was a signal, but to whom?

Other than the candle, the room was empty. Thomas picked up the candle, saw that it was nearly burned all the way down. How long had it been lighted, and set in that particular spot? An hour? More?