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“I canna believe I let ye –”
Her words were cut off as Bedivere reached out, pulling her into his arms and kissing her so passionately that, for a moment, she forgot about all her troubles or that he could easily kill her.
“That’s better,” he said, running a hand over her hair and looking deeply into her eyes. “Now that you’re quiet, may I tell you about my past?”
Her heart beat rapidly and she didn’t know what to do. Her head told her to shout out and call for help, but her heart told her that he would never hurt her. Listening for the answer within her, like Mazelina told her to do, she finally answered. “Go ahead.”
He led her to the bed and they sat next to each other. Then he started to explain. “I wasn’t always an assassin, and it wasn’t by choice.”
“What do ye mean?” she asked, taking a deep breath and releasing it slowly.
“When my father was hung for conspiring to kill the king, my family and I were thrown into the dungeon at Whitmore.”
“Yer faither wanted to kill my cousin, Richard?” Her body tensed in anticipation. She didn’t relax until he rubbed her back gently and continued to explain.
“I don’t believe my father was part of any such thing. However, it was my word against Lord Whitmore’s.”
“Lord Whitmore? The man who came to your chamber with your squire? Or should I say, your brother?”
“Aye. Whitmore is an advisor to the king. And Percival is one of my eight siblings.”
“Ye have that many brothers and sisters?”
“I do. And even the twins, at only seven years of age, were imprisoned as well.”
“Nay, tell me it isna so.” Morag couldn’t even imagine such a horrible situation.
“I had to do something to save my family from being killed. That’s when Lord Whitmore told me that if I agreed to be the king’s assassin, he would make a deal with me. For every man I stopped from trying to kill Richard, one person of my family would be set free.”
“That’s what those notches in the hilt of yer sword were.”
“Aye, I am sad to say, it is true. Those eleven notches were for the eleven men I was ordered to kill. I didn’t want to kill anyone, but I had no choice, Morag. Don’t you see? If I didn’t, I would lose my family and I couldn’t allow that to happen.”
“Oh, Bedivere, I had no idea.” She reached out and took his hands in hers.
“No one did,” he said. “The whole incident with my father and my family was kept quiet.”
“So is yer family safe now?”
“My aunt, uncle, brothers, and sisters have all been set free. They are living in a small shack on Whitmore’s demesne. However, I have one more kill to make before my poor mother is released.”
“How long has she been there, Bedivere?”
“It’s been two years now.”
Morag shuddered at the thought. She’d seen the conditions of the dungeons in several castles and couldn’t even imagine staying in a cell for one night.
“If ye are killin’ off bad men who want to kill King Richard, then it is a guid thing, right?” She smiled slightly and looked into his dark eyes.
“I suppose it is,” he answered. “However, recently, I am starting to have doubts that I should have taken Whitmore’s word that these men were guilty. I’ll never know for sure if they were, and that is something that will haunt me for the rest of my life.”
“Why is Lord Whitmore here?” asked Morag curiously.
“He is here because I refused to make my last kill.”
“Ye did?” asked Morag. She was afraid to ask but, in her normal nature, she had to know. “Who does he want ye to kill?”
Bedivere hesitated before answering. “It’s not just one man, Morag, but three.”
