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“My wife says I’m stubborn,” Tadhg explained softly.
He snorted. “You know they are hunting for you? Frenchmen, Englishmen, God knows who else. You’re a popular man.”
“That is why I am here.”
“You came to wrong place, then. They are all here.”
“Yes, but so were you. And I thought you looked like a man who does not like following orders that strike him as disloyal.”
He grunted. “I do not, but I do like my head being affixed to my shoulders, so I don’t want any funny business.”
“I am in deadly earnest. The question is, do you not like the following orders of a French lieutenant on English soil because of your pride, or because you are still loyal to your king?”
The man’s eyes fixed on his. “You are saying he is not dead?”
“He is not dead.”
“And you would know?”
“I know it personally. He stood as far from me as you are. He lives.”
The dockmaster looked at him. “What do you need?”
Relief weakened his limbs for a second, then Tadhg reached out and clapped him on the shoulder. “How extensive is your network of messengers?” For dockmasters always had a network of messengers, smugglers, and any number of other informants.
At least the competent ones did.
This dockmaster gave a low laugh. “I have messengers coming out my ass, Irishman. What do you need?”
“I need to track down the Earl of Huntingdon, get him a message. Has there been any word of him? I was told he was shipwrecked.”
The dockmaster smiled slowly. “Among other things. But he’s just returned. Going to dedicate a church in thanks for not dying in his many adventures coming home from crusade. Guess you know how he feels,” he said with a shrewd look.
/> “I know just how he feels,” Tadhg said with feeling.
“And I know just where to find him.”
Chapter Forty-Four
MAGDALENA DREAMED OF SHERWOOD.
The nightmare was so vivid, so close to what had happened in the past, that she could see him stepping into her bedchamber, feel the scrape of his boot on the floor, hear his low, cunning voice saying her name.
“Magdalena.”
In her sleep, she shivered.
“Magdalena.”
The reality of it yanked her awake. She jerked and sat up straight, staring wide-eyed and sightless. With a heavy hand she pushed hair back from her sweaty brow, trying to break the awful spell of the dream.
“Magdalena.”
Coldness broke and ran down her spine like ice.
God in Heaven, no.
Sherwood stood in the doorway. Her nightmare had come true.
