“What are you saying, Bertram?” she demanded, moving out of his reach. “Do you think you will be separating the babe from his mother?”
“They will be separated whether I do it or not.”
She had to kill him. “Where are they?”
“They are here in West Wickham,” he told her. “My cousin’s men will be here to collect him.”
“To collect who? Little Eddie?” She had no idea what he was talking about. Why would his cousin—she assumed he was speaking of his cousin the bishop—want little Eddie?
A memory flashed across her thoughts. The bishop’s name. Edmundson. The truth dawned on her when she remembered Clare telling her that the babe’s father was an important man in England. Oh no, Clare. Lily’s belly hit the ground. “Little Eddie is Bishop Edmundson’s son.”
When Bertram didn’t deny it, she covered her face in her hands. “What does this mean? What does he intend to do?”
“He intends to finally put an end to all of this.”
Her heart sank along with her belly. “He’s going to have Clare killed? And the babe?”
“Hell, I have already told ye too much.”
She looked around. Where was Elias? She had to do something. When the bishop’s men arrived, it would be too late. She couldn’t let them kill Clare and her son. “Which house are they in?”
“Do ye not want to know why I left them and went all the way to Beckenham to find ye?” he asked, ignoring her question.
She didn’t want to know. She didn’t care. “Why?” she asked just to appease him until she could get to Clare.
“Because I want ye back.” He reached out and ran his fingers down her arm. “Now that Richard is dead, ye are free again. In time, ye will forget yer Highlander.”
His touch repulsed her. “Where are Clare and her son?” She put her hand on his waist to push him away and slipped one of her knives that he had tucked into his belt into her palm and up her sleeve.
“First, Lily, pledge yer life to me.”
She almost laughed right in his face. She wanted to shout that he was too late once again. She was already married to Elias. But she couldn’t tell him. Not yet.
“What could you possibly want with me?” she asked him.
“I want to make yer life hell—just as ye have made mine.”
“You are mad, Bertram. Mad and evil.”
He laughed. “But I will have my way.”
“Very well, Bertram, you have your wish. Now take me to them.”
His lips curled into a thin, triumphant smile. “Follow me.”
They passed the inn where she and Elias had made love. Where she’d spent the most magical night of her life. She followed Bertram past a cluster of houses north of the village, to the last small cottage near a wooded area.
The charcoal sky boded rain. She thought she heard a child crying. She ran toward the small cottage and pushed open the door.
There were a few small tables with various things atop them. A small alcove housed cold coals and a pot with nothing in it.
Against the western wall, Clare lay on a bed made of straw. Huddled on the floor at the foot of the bed was little Eddie. He was crying. He looked like he’d been crying for days. His eyes were puffy and red just like his little nose. His chin was wrinkled and his lower lip was sagging.
When he saw Lily, he scrambled to his feet and ran to her.
She bent and caught him in her arms with a smile. She had him. He was safe. Thank you, God.
Her elation soon faded and she lifted her face to the bed. Her heart felt as if it would fall out of her mouth if she opened it. She straightened and tucked little Eddie behind her.