Page 107 of Bound to a Warrior
Bailey nodded. “You’re right. I can’t just hand you over to them and trust them to return Kate.”
“There is something else I wish you to do,” she said.
“What is it?”
“I want you to give Duncan a message from me.”
“I will take it directly to him,” Bailey said.
“No, you can’t do that,” Mercy said. “Duncan would surely follow with a troop of warriors and now is not time for the true king’s troops to battle, especially over me. You will wait until evening. That will give me the time I need.”
“Time for what?”
“To escape.”
“You will return then?” Bailey asked.
Mercy shook her head. “I cannot return. Not now.”
Bailey nodded as if he understood. “Tell me the message. I will repeat it to him exactly as you tell me.”
“It is brief. You will have no trouble recalling it,” Mercy said.
He nodded and Mercy gave him the message.
“There is no more?” Bailey asked.
“Duncan will know,” she said confidently. “But it is better no one else does.”
They parted then, their plan firm for dawn tomorrow.
Mercy made her way back through the pouring rain thinking that tonight would be the last time that she and Duncan made love for awhile. She refused to think that they would never love again. After all, she had taken charge of her destiny and Duncan was her destiny. They would be together someday; she refused to believe otherwise.
She intended to make love with him tonight like never before and then sneak away in the morning and do what she must. Do it for Duncan, for Bailey and Kate, and oddly enough for her mother.
Mercy wanted her father to know that he may have succeeded in killing her mother, but that the woman he had once claimed to love beyond belief had raised her daughter to be strong—and to survive.
She hurried out of the rain into the keep and almost collided with Mara.
“What were you doing out in such horrid weather?”
For a moment Mercy didn’t know what to say. The only word she thought to murmur was, “Duncan.”
“You looked for Duncan?” Mara shook her head, snatched her wet cloak off her and ushered her to the hearth. “He’s busy with his brothers at the moment. You need to sit and get warm, or God forbid you catch a chill.”
The woman fussed over her like a mother hen and Mercy had to admit that she enjoyed it. Her mother had rarely fussed. She had expected certain things from Mercy from when she was young and like a dutiful child she had obeyed. But every now and then her mother would be different. She would picnic with her at the river’s edge or tell her a story and tuck her into bed. Of course that was when she was very young. As Mercy matured those special moments she had cherished with her mother had dwindled until they completely disappeared.
“I’ll fetch us each a tankard of mulled cider and we’ll chat,” Mara said after she finished pulling a chair near the hearth and gently pushing Mercy into it, then tucking a soft wool blanket around her.
Mara returned in no time and pulled a chair up alongside hers after handing Mercy two tankards to hold.
Once she sat, Mercy returned one of the tankards to her. “Thank you for this.”
“Nonsense,” Mara said. “I’m pleased beyond belief that one of my sons has finally brought home a woman he loves, especially when I can see that love shining brightly in both their eyes.”
“It’s that obvious?” Mercy asked, not a bit sorry that she and Duncan wore their love so openly and so proudly.
“From the first,” Mara said. “I don’t believe you could have hidden it if you wanted to.”
