William raised hopeful eyes at the sound of his half-brother's jovial voice. 'Yes, I am fine now, Thomas.'
'You will be more than fine very shortly. Actually, very shortly you will be a married man. You will wed Jenny MacGraff right here next Sunday. You and Jenny will live here, of course. I will provide Jenny a dowry.'
With surprising agility, Libby jumped to her feet, nearly knocking her chair over she came up so quickly. 'You cannot mean this, Thomas. It is absurd. The idiot girl's pregnant, who cares? It happens all the time. Give Teddy MacGraff a couple of pounds, he'll go away happy.'
Madeleine said, 'Thomas, Libby's right. This can't be the best way to solve this problem. The MacGraffs are nothings-nobodies! Goodness, Teddy MacGraff is a merchant! Oh, wait a moment-goodness me, can you believe it? Libby, you will be a grandmother! Ah, what a terrible thing, just terrible.'
'No, I will not be a bloody grandmother! I do not recognize this child as William's. Indeed, I imagine he isn't the father at all. She drew him in, seduced him. He is a boy, incapable of producing a child.'
Thomas laughed, he just couldn't help himself. He looked over at William, who was pale as the tablecloth, his fingers clutched around his wineglass, his eyes glazed.
Thomas said, 'Yes, you will indeed be a grandmother, Aunt Libby. And yes, Thomas is the father. The wedding will take place next Sunday right here at Pendragon or-please listen to me, William. Are you?'
William jerked his eyes up from the wine that was such a lovely red. 'I am listening, Thomas.'
'You will marry Jenny MacGraff. You will be a good husband to her and a good father-at least better than our own father, which isn't saying much at all-or you will never again be welcome here at Pendragon. I will also cut you off without a sou. That is your choice. William, it is your decision. What say you?'
William looked from his mother back down to his wineglass. He picked up his fork and played with it, then slumped down in his chair. He raised pitiful eyes to Thomas. 'Perhaps it isn't my child, Thomas. Perhaps Jenny has bedded many men and-'
'Don't be a fool, William. She was a virgin. Or will you try to tell me that she wasn't?'
'Perhaps a girl can have many virginities, perhaps she can develop a new one to lure in young men-'
'Which will it be, William?' Thomas asked with great patience, his voice implacable. Thomas had said earlier to Meggie that he couldn't imagine why any girl would want William, but the girl did. As for her father, Teddy had rubbed his hands together and smiled. It hadn't been a nice smile. 'I'll see to it the lad behaves himself,' Teddy had said, and Thomas believed him. He then gave Thomas a ferocious smile and shook his hand to seal the bargain.
'Marriage,' William said into his lower lip. 'I choose marriage.'
'And you swear you will do your best to be a good husband and a good father?'
'I swear.'
'Good. Niles, will you attend William's wedding?'
Lord Kipper raised a sleek brow, smiled, and raised his wineglass. 'It will be a very nice wedding,' he said. 'To William and-what's-her-name?'
'Jenny MacGraff.'
'To William and Jenny.'
Everyone drank except Libby and William, who both moaned into their glasses.
'It's done,' Thomas said when he and Meggie were finally alone some two hours later in the White Room, the door closed and locked. 'It's been a very long day. Now, at last, I can concentrate on you. I've been thinking about this since this morning.'
'Yes, it's done. Let me tell you, Thomas, Mrs. Black is thrilled about it. Your mother is chortling because Libby will have a low-born daughter-in-law and be a grandmother before she will. Really? Since this morning?'
'Remember when you were dancing down the corridor and I ran into you? Yes, since that moment when I saw exactly what you were thinking. Your eyes tell me everything, Meggie. Everything. Come here.'
Meggie went, nearly skipping to him since she was so very eager. It was much a repeat of the previous night, but better, Meggie thought, grinning down at her husband, who looked nearly dead. She felt so good she wanted to sing, perhaps write a ditty for Mrs. Mullins about Mary Rose's stewed fish stew.
She whispered against her husband's ear, 'Perhaps we could hold a cat race to celebrate the wedding.'
Life, Thomas thought, would never be boring with Meggie in it. He kissed her temple and wondered what the future would bring. More lovemaking, that was what he wanted, much more.
'Should you like to go to Italy, Meggie?'
'I should love it above all things.'
'Soon,' he said. 'Soon.' He pressed his forehead against hers, breathed in her scent, unique to Meggie. 'I was just wondering what life would bring us.'
'Lots of good things, I hope,' she said, and kissed his chin. 'You know, Thomas, when I take you into my mouth like that and you-'
He jerked. He was hard that instant, something he'd sworn was beyond him for the next twelve hours. When she was moaning into his mouth, he was the one who wanted to sing with the pleasure of it.
Chapter 31
MEGGIE WAS WALKING along the trail that led to the Pendragon cliffs, whistling, occasionally flinging a stick for Brutus to retrieve, which he did with great enthusiasm. 'Too bad,' she said, scrubbing behind his ears, 'that there can't be dog racing, but it just isn't possible. Can you imagine racing, Brutus? No, you'd just sit there wagging your tail, wouldn't you, or rush to bring back sticks. Your brain just isn't fashioned for racing.' And she'd throw the stick again. Brutus was one of Thomas's dogs, an exuberant terrier who looked more like a Clara, in truth, than a Brutus. One stick flew too close to the edge of the cliff. Brutus skidded at the edge and slunk down onto his haunches, whining softly. He would go no farther.
'What's the matter? Oh, I see, you're afraid the ground isn't steady and you'll go right over. You're right. I'm too strong in my throwing. Let me get this stick, Brutus, and I'll hurl it in the other direction.' She leaned down to get the stick when she heard a snicker of sound right beside her. She turned, then there was another snicker of sound and this one landed in her shoulder, hurling her backward off the cliff.
She screamed, loud, wailing, and hit the water below. She struck the water flat on her back and sank like a stone. She was sure she'd broken her back. She hit the bottom, but thankfully not hard. Waves washed over her head, rocks and sand tore her clothes and scraped her skin. She swallowed water, gagged.
It was the gagging that brought her right back up. The water was just over her head, and even though her clothes were heavy, she managed to struggle to shore. She was wheezing, choking, gagging on the harsh salt water, trying to get her breath and ignore her back, which felt like a large sofa was sitting atop her from striking the water so hard.
She vomited up all the seawater. She was shaking so badly that she could barely catch her breath. Then she realized that blood was dripping onto the wet sand.
She stared at the blood, at first not understanding. Blood, it was her blood. She hadn't seen her own blood since she'd gotten scratched by Tiny Tom. It was faded, all that blood, since is was mixed with water. It had turned the bodice of her blue muslin gown into a faint pink color, and now, it was oozing out of her, snaking downward. She swallowed, realizing now that the strange snicking sound-it had been a bullet and it had gone into her body, hurled her backward over the cliff and into the sea below.
Thank God it had been high tide, otherwise she would be dead now.
She didn't want to think about that.
She tried to straighten, to push herself back onto her knees, so she could stand up, but ferocious pain suddenly ripped through her shoulder, and she groaned with the shock of it, the unexpected clout of pain, and fell back onto her face.
