The Apothecary Rose by Candace Robb Read Free Book Online Page B

more to explain. But it only evinced a howl of rage from the obviously mad Lord March.
    Now what? If Owen turned and walked away, the ridiculous man might attack him with a weapon. Lord March did not seem rational enough to care whether he attacked from behind or not. But standing here was no good. And backing all the way to the rose garden seemed unwise.
    Owen need not have concerned himself. Lord March decided the next step by lunging at Owen with a knife. Well aimed, too, for a vulnerable spot. His left shoul der.
    'Damn you!' Owen cried, kicking the knife out of March's hand and punching him below the belt with all the fury that he felt for the lunatic bastard who'd reopened the wound he'd worked so hard to heal. As Lord March doubled over in pain, Owen drove another fist into the man's jaw. Lord March fell back and lay on the path, bleeding from the mouth. Most likely he'd bitten his tongue.
    Owen tossed the knife into the yew hedge and strode angrily away, keeping a tight grip on his wound ed shoulder to stem the bleeding.

Three
    The Rogue and the Lady
    W hen Owen got to the weapons room, he struggled out of his cloak and his leather vest an d was pleased to see that the wound was insignificant, worse in imagination than in fact. It would heal quickly. Gaspare came in while he was there and helped him clean and bandage it, then poured him a cup of brandy wine. 'For your pride.'
    'I gave much worse than I got, to be sure. The man was a fool to pick on me. He's a weakling.'
    'We warned you to stay away from the fair Jocelyn. The man is bedevilled by her. They say that Gaunt had his lady invited into the household to keep Lord March at his work. He was always taking off north to check on her.'
    'To be honest, she is not so delicious as to warrant such jealous devotion.'
    'Glad I am to hear you say that, Captain. I'd thought that the loss of one eye had robbed you of your senses in regard to the ladies.'
    Owen tossed the remainder of his brandywine in Gaspare's face.
    Laughing, he headed for Bertold's chamber, where he got out the salve that kept his scar soft and cool and applied a generous portion, then lay down on the pallet. He must have dozed off, for he came to as his head was being gently lifted onto a silken lap.
    Lady Jocelyn's rosebud mouth puckered in concern, then widened into a smile. The flinty eyes had softened considerably. 'Captain Archer. I am so relieved to see that you are awake. Where did he wound you?'
    Her dress was cut dangerously low, in the new fashion, and he could see her breasts heaving with her breath. She was excited. He suddenly saw it so clearly, the chemistry of the marriage. She set up intrigues, March rescued her, she kissed him and tucked him in bed, and then tiptoed off to the wounded bait. Good God in Heaven. Owen wished he were anywhere else in the world right now than here in Bertold's chamber, with no danger of Bertold returning, alone with this woman who would probably get nasty when she discovered that he did not want her. But it would all have been for naught if he did not ask her about Fitzwilliam.
    'I am not seriously wounded, though I cannot vouch for your husband's mouth.'
    'He will have discomfort eating for a few days, but it will heal.'
    'I do not know why he took such offence, though it did not help that I could not tell him why I wished an audience with you.'
    'Yes. The old friend -'
    'Sir Oswald Fitzwilliam.'
    'Ozzie?' She put a hand to her white chest. 'You have heard from him?'
    'More like I have heard of him, my lady. Fitzwilliam is dead.' Her eyes widened. Owen sat up and took her hands. 'Forgive me for the shock my news must inflict, but I could think of no gradual way to tell you.'
    'Ozzie.' She shook her head. 'But I saw him - Who killed him?'
    Again, the assumption that Fitzwilliam was mur dered, that one of his innumerable enemies had caught up with him. Owen began to despair of ever unravelling the mess of the man's life to discover the murderer. 'You began