The Unwilling Bride by Margaret Moore

Table of Content

• 1. PROLOGUE
• 2. CHAPTER ONE April, 1243 THE BOAR’S HEAD TAVERN boasted the prettiest, cleanest serving wenches for miles around. The young women were all eager to please their customers in a variety of ways, too, especially the boisterous knights and squires currently making merry in the taproom. Carrying pitchers of wine and mugs of ale, the wenches moved deftly between the tables, laughing and joking with the men, and sizing them up as to their worth. They could easily earn a month’s worth of income in a single night from drunken revelers like these. Only one man sitting silently at a table in the corner seemed uninterested in the women, or celebrating. He had his back to the wall and stared down into his goblet, completely oblivious to the merry mayhem around him. Two other knights, equally young and muscular, shared his table. The handsomest of the pair, brown haired and with a smile that held a host of promises, delighted in having the women compete for his attention and hurry to fetch his wine.
• 3. CHAPTER ONE
• 4. CHAPTER TWO MAKING SURE NO PART OF HER came into contact with Merrick as he waited by the door, Constance followed the uncles into the solar, the small chamber Lord William had used for his private business. As in the hall, expensive and colorful tapestries lined the walls to keep out the chill. A massive trestle table, pitted and scared from Lord William’s blows and missiles, stood near the window. A wooden, bossed chest holding all the various parchments detailing the tenants and the tithes rested in the corner. There Merrick would also find a copy of his father’s will, a document that had elicited many a raving tantrum before it had finally been completed to Lord William’s satisfaction. The lord’s chair—a huge, heavy thing of carved oak with a cushioned seat—was behind the table. The only other seats were stools, set against the wall, and rarely used in Lord William’s time. He preferred to have those brought before him standing like humble petitioners, no matter what their rank or w
• 5. CHAPTER TWO
• 6. CHAPTER THREE A FEW DAYS LATER, CONSTANCE and Alan de Vern stood in the buttery adjacent to the kitchen, looking over the wine that had arrived before a storm blew in from the ocean. Straw covered the floor of the chamber to catch any spills, and bits of chaff floated in the air. Over the years, spiders had created a vast array of cobwebs in the seams between the walls and the vaulted ceiling of the chilly chamber. At the moment, raindrops beat against the stone walls as if they were demanding entrance. “Lord Merrick says we must have the best wine for your wedding feast,” Alan said, his accent marking him as a native of Paris. “Wine from Bordeaux for the entire company in the hall, even those below the salt, and plenty of ale for the village.” “That will cost a small fortune!” Constance exclaimed, rubbing her hands together for warmth. It would also make a very fine show of generosity, she added in her thoughts. Just as that kiss had surely been a demonstration of his vain belief that
• 7. CHAPTER THREE
• 8. CHAPTER FOUR ON MAY DAY MORNING, CONSTANCE stood beside Merrick on a raised platform that had been erected at the edge of the village green. In the center of the green was the Maypole, with its bright ribbons and wildflowers and, gathered around it, the villagers and tenants of Tregellas, as well as the garrison soldiers not on duty. Tumblers and other entertainers were at the far end of the green, stretching and preparing as they waited for the lord to select the Queen of the May. The uncles, Henry, Ranulf and Beatrice were on the dais with Merrick and Constance, and it seemed the excitement of the crowd had transferred itself to Beatrice and Henry, at least. Beatrice’s eyes glowed with delight, and Henry had been making jokes the whole way from the castle. The uncles stood with appropriately serious lordly dignity, while Ranulf regarded the celebrations with cynical amusement. “Which one is Annice?” Fanning herself with her hand, for the day was sunny and warm for May, Constance answ
• 9. CHAPTER FOUR
• 10. CHAPTER FIVE FOR ONE BRIEF INSTANT Constance thought of running away. But how would that look to the men, and Beatrice, too? And hadn’t she faced down the infamous Wicked William of Tregellas more than once? Beatrice, however, started to sidle away. “I believe I’ll change my gown before the feast,” she murmured. Then she was gone, leaving Constance feeling like the lone soldier on a bloody battlefield awaiting the enemy’s army. Except that it was no horde of soldiers who walked toward her, but the handsome, young and unabashedly virile man to whom she was betrothed—the same man who had a satisfied grin playing about the corners of his lips. So he was pleased he and his men had won—why didn’t he put his shirt on? Was he trying to make her feel uncomfortable? Was this some sort of attempt to intimidate or embarrass her? If so, he’d drastically underestimated her. She straightened her shoulders and prepared to show him how wrong he was. “So, my lady,” he said when he reached her, “all you
• 11. CHAPTER FIVE
• 12. CHAPTER SIX THREE DAYS LATER, MERRICK strode into the courtyard, followed by Ranulf and Henry. He’d been summoned from the outer ward where the men were training with quintains and swords, despite the drizzling rain, because Sir Jowan, who held the manor of Penderston to the west of Tregellas, and his son, Kiernan, had arrived. Sir Jowan was obviously the stout, apple-cheeked, white-haired man sitting on a very fine gelding. His son, a slender young man, fair-haired, fair skinned and with a pleasant, if not overly handsome face, rode another excellent horse. They were accompanied by a troop of twenty, who were clearly waiting for their lord’s signal before dismounting. “Welcome to Tregellas,” Merrick said, ignoring both the older man’s steadfast, measuring gaze and his son’s haughty glare. He had encountered both reactions often enough before, so he attached no particular significance to either. “I assume I have the honor of addressing Sir Jowan of Penderston and his son?” “Indeed, you
• 13. CHAPTER SIX
• 14. CHAPTER SEVEN CONSTANCE GLANCED UP FROM HER embroidery at Beatrice seated across from her, working on an altar cloth in a most desultory manner. At the rate she was going, it wouldn’t be finished before the Second Coming, even though she’d been silent since sitting down. “I know you’re disappointed that we couldn’t join the hunt, Beatrice,” Constance said, trying to sound sympathetic although she was, in truth, relived. It had been very difficult avoiding Kiernan since that disastrous encounter in the chapel, but avoid him she must. Did he think Merrick was blind or stupid? Did he truly not appreciate the trouble he could cause her if Merrick suspected his aim, or did he simply, selfishly, not care? “It really is far too muddy for us to ride out. You’ll have other opportunities, I’m sure. We’ll need plenty of game for the wedding feast.” Which would be in a se’nnight. A se’ennight, and she would have to choose if she would marry the lord of Tregellas or refuse him. To think that decisi
• 15. CHAPTER SEVEN
• 16. CHAPTER EIGHT “HERE I AM, MERRICK, in answer to your summons,” Ranulf said when he entered the solar. His friend stood at the window, his back to the door and his wounded arm cradled in the uninjured one. “I couldn’t find Henry.” The lord of Tregellas turned away from the window and faced him. “Did Talek say I wanted to speak to Henry?” “No,” Ranulf admitted, his brow furrowing at his friend’s brusque tone. “So what did you decide to do with the garrison commander? When he spoke to me he didn’t look happy, but he wasn’t surrounded by armed guards, either.” “Talek is leaving Tregellas and won’t be returning.” Ranulf sat without waiting for an invitation to do so. “You’re letting him go free?” Merrick took his seat opposite Ranulf, with the wide table between them, and explained as he had to Constance. “I have no proof that he was trying to kill me, but I won’t run the risk that he wasn’t.” “I understand, of course,” Ranulf replied. “Unfortunately, it seems your bride doesn’t appreciate
• 17. CHAPTER EIGHT
• 18. CHAPTER NINE THE BEDCHAMBER OF THE LORD of Tregellas was dark, save for the flickering light of a single candle on the table beside the large bed, its heavy dark blue curtains drawn. How or why Constance had come there, she didn’t know…but she knew she shouldn’t linger. She had no business here. She should go…except that her feet wouldn’t—couldn’t—move. The curtains were slowly parted by a strong male hand. Merrick’s hand. He was there, in the bed, covered to his waist by a sheet, the rest of him naked and exposed, his long hair unbound. He sat up and smiled slowly, seductively. “Come to me, Constance,” he whispered as she stood rooted to the spot. “You know it’s what you want.” She didn’t dare move. If she went to him, if she let him enfold her in his arms and take her to his bed, she would never be free of him. But did she want to be free of Merrick? If she were his wife, he would protect her. He would treat her kindly and with respect, as his father and her uncle never had. She woul
• 19. CHAPTER NINE
• 20. CHAPTER TEN SHE COULD EXAMINE THE CUT ON his arm as long as he stayed asleep, Constance reasoned as she crept into Merrick’s bedchamber, averting her eyes from the water and what lay beneath. When she reached the tub, she picked up the lump of soap from the stool beside it and inhaled its scent. She recognized the spicy smell from when he’d held her and kissed her. Her gaze wandered to the bed, and the memory of her dream and Merrick’s invitation. Her heartbeat quickened, and so did her breathing as warmth suffused her body. If they wed, she would share that bed. With him. And do more than sleep. She looked back at Merrick—whose eyes snapped open. She dropped the soap. Trying to collect her scattered wits, she bent to retrieve it. “You’ll fall ill if you stay in that water,” she said, her embarrassment making her peevish. “Then I won’t,” he agreed, starting to rise. God help her, he was as naked as a newborn babe—but very much a man. She quickly turned away. “I came to examine your arm
• 21. CHAPTER TEN
• 22. CHAPTER ELEVEN THE DAY OF LADY CONSTANCE’S wedding to the lord of Tregellas dawned misty and cool for May, but that did nothing to dampen Beatrice’s enthusiasm or stem the bride’s barely contained excitement. If someone had told Constance a month ago she would welcome this day so eagerly, and be looking forward to the night to come, she would have said they were mad. Or drunk. Yet as she dressed in a new gown of brilliant royal blue edged with gold, and with a wedding gift from Merrick of a lovely circlet of gold on her head, she felt like a queen. Better than a queen. Happier than any queen had ever been. During the ceremony in front of their families and assembled guests, Merrick stood beside her looking seductively, incredibly handsome, even though his black wool tunic lacked any embroidery or other embellishment. The unrelieved simplicity suited him, and indeed, seemed to accent his powerful body more than any finery could. Her heartbeat quickened at the sight of him as it always d
• 23. CHAPTER ELEVEN
• 24. CHAPTER TWELVE MERRICK NEEDED NO FURTHER urging. He eagerly began to strip off his wedding clothes as Constance blew out the candles set on the table and in the candlestand, all save one beside the bed. Standing beside it, she gave her husband a brazenly seductive smile. “Before I extinguish the last candle, I want to admire my husband as he wishes to admire me.” Facing her in all his masculine magnificence, Merrick’s eyes were dark, exciting pools of desire. She ran her gaze over him slowly, from his wide, intelligent brow, dark, passionate eyes, angular cheeks and sensual lips to his broad shoulders and slender torso. He had a few scars there, ones she’d touched lightly when she’d caressed him before. Dark hairs curled around his nipples and met in the center of his chest. They began again at his navel, and went lower, surrounding his shaft that stood in bold announcement of his desire. His legs were long and muscular, lean and strong from hours on horseback. “Do I meet with your app
• 25. CHAPTER TWELVE
• 26. CHAPTER THIRTEEN A FEW DAYS LATER, MERRICK looked up from the parchment he’d been reading and smiled as Constance peered into the solar. As always, his heart thrilled just to see her face but, also as always, that feeling was swiftly followed by guilt that could only be assuaged by pleasing her any and every way he could. “I thought Alan and Ruan were never going to leave,” she said as she entered the chamber. “You must have had much to discuss.” “We did. This is a larger estate than I remembered,” he admitted, leaning back in his chair. He held out his arms and she, understanding his unspoken request, settled onto his lap. “Have you come any closer to discovering who set the fire?” she asked, toying with a lock of his long dark hair. He wondered if she had any idea how even that simple intimate action thrilled him, or how distracting the weight of her was on his thighs and shaft, but decided it was far too delightful a torment to enlighten her. “I’m sure Alan is doing his best to find
• 27. CHAPTER THIRTEEN
• 28. CHAPTER FOURTEEN THE DAY OF THE HALL MOOT, THE sky was a dull gray ceiling of clouds. If the weather worsened, they would go inside, Constance knew, but otherwise, the hall was too small for the crowd now waiting with hushed expectancy for the proceedings to start. Even Beatrice was quiet, although that was getting to be far from unusual. Henry had declared he would be bored with such business, and had gone off to hunt. Ranulf was in the ward, working with the new troop of archers. Merrick had decided that Welsh long bows could be an asset, and had set about finding a man to teach a select group, as well as getting the bows and arrows for them. Constance slid a glance toward her husband as he sat beside her on the dais erected in the courtyard where he would make his judgments, and grant or refuse requests. Just as she’d always hoped, they’d talked at length about the conflicts likely to be brought before him. He’d asked her about the people involved and sought her advice. She knew him
• 29. CHAPTER FOURTEEN
• 30. CHAPTER FIFTEEN IN SPITE OF HIS INTENTION TO follow Ranulf’s advice, Merrick didn’t seek out Constance until the hour grew late and he could find no more excuses not to retire. Instead, maintaining his usual stoic demeanor, he checked the new swords the armorer had made. He gave the guards the watchword for the night, paying no heed to their attempts to avoid his gaze. He got some food from the kitchen and ignored Gaston’s wary expression and that of the servants cowering in the corners. By the time he headed for their bedchamber, he was perfectly sober and capable of having a rational discussion with his wife, if she wasn’t already asleep. If she was? He’d crawl into bed beside her warm, soft body, conquer the needs of his own and deal with the trouble between them in the morning. He walked slowly up the stairs, as if he bore a great weight on his back. Images of his bride danced in his head as he lifted his feet. Her bright eyes. Her smile. That look of sultry invitation. The low gro
• 31. CHAPTER FIFTEEN
• 32. CHAPTER SIXTEEN OVER A FORTNIGHT HAD PASSED by the time Constance stood beside her husband on the dais in the great hall and watched Lord Osgoode saunter toward them. He was not a small man, but tall and broad, with iron-gray hair and a wide and smiling face. His clothes, like his accoutrements, were colorful and expensive, as befitted a man of great wealth and influence at court. Merrick was not nearly so finely dressed, although he wore his best clothes: a rich, black-and-gold brocade tunic that she’d made for him in the first happy days of their marriage, a white linen shirt laced at the neck, fine woolen breeches and polished black boots. She wore a gown of emerald cendal, embroidered heavily at the neck and down the long cuffs. Beatrice, who seemed like a shadow of herself these days, had pleaded an aching head and begged to be excused. Ranulf was leading a patrol at the north end of the estate. “Greetings, my lord,” Merrick said as the nobleman reached the dais. “Welcome to Trege
• 33. CHAPTER SIXTEEN
• 34. CHAPTER SEVENTEEN “EXPECTING TROUBLE, ARE YOU?” “Always,” Merrick replied, regarding Ranulf with cold composure as they stood together in the armory. His cortege was to leave for Tintagel at dawn the next morning, and he wanted to make sure all was ready. “Tintagel’s not that far,” Ranulf noted. “Are you sure you need so many men in your escort? Between Lord Osgoode’s soldiers and ours, that’s over fifty.” Ranulf’s words brought no comfort as that old, familiar, hated fear gripped Merrick again. A journey. A road. A wood. The dying. The dead. And blood upon the ground. He forced the memories away. “I want that many men. Or do you think I’m leaving Tregellas too unprotected?” “God save you, no. This place is so well fortified, a band of children could hold it against an assault.” Ranulf’s confidence brought no relief, either. Merrick went over to a stand holding several simple iron swords, their hilts wrapped with leather strips. So many weapons. So many soldiers. So why could he never
• 35. CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
• 36. CHAPTER EIGHTEEN THE VOICES WERE MUTED, AS IF they were under water. Or she was. “It would be best, my lord, if you didn’t disturb her,” a man said. She didn’t recognize his voice, but he sounded learned. Middle-aged. “I must see her.” That was Merrick. He was alive! Thank God. But she’d never heard his voice sound like that before. Distraught. Upset. “My lord, please. I’ve given her a potent draught and we should—” “Will she live?” Of course she would. There was no need for him to worry…although it was comforting to think he did worry about her. She was just tired, so tired she couldn’t open her eyes. “That is in God’s hands, my lord.” “I must see her before I leave.” Now he was angry. Impatient. The old Merrick. Where was he going? To Tintagel? Weren’t they already there? Where was she? Maybe if she slept, she’d be more alert when she awoke…. A hand took hold of hers. A rough, calloused hand. A man’s hand. Merrick’s hand, grasping hers so very gently. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered, hi
• 37. CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
• 38. CHAPTER NINETEEN THOUGH SHE WAS MINDFUL OF Brother Paul, who’d insisted on coming with them to Tintagel, Constance nudged her horse to a slightly faster walk as she, Ranulf, the priest and their armed escort rode through the narrow valley leading to the earl’s fortress. In the near distance she could see large stone walls whitened with lime and an arched gate flanked by square towers. At least the weather was good; had it been otherwise, she would have had more difficulty convincing Brother Paul to let her leave the monastery. Even so, the cool breeze coming off the sea whipped her cloak about her, and poor Brother Paul, farther back on his donkey, looked as if he was shivering. She raised her voice to call out to Ranulf, so that the knight riding in front of her could hear her above the wind and the waves crashing against the cliffs. “Those are the outer defenses?” Ranulf let his horse drop back until he was beside her. He nodded. “That gate guards the bridge to the island.” “It seems
• 39. CHAPTER NINETEEN
• 40. CHAPTER TWENTY “I’M BREDON, THE SON OF TAMSYN. Peder’s grandson.” Impossible! He couldn’t be. Bredon was dead. He’d drowned. He was dead. Drowned. As her mind struggled to understand not just what Merrick had said, but his remorseful attitude, Constance felt for the end of the bed and sat heavily. “But he…he died! Everyone knows he drowned in the river.” Merrick shook his head. “No, I did not.” “But…if he didn’t die—” “I didn’t.” “Then what happened? You…you’re…how did you come to be Merrick?” She gasped and covered her mouth. “What happened to him?” “He died. In the ambush on the way to Sir Leonard’s.” He took a deep breath, then the words seemed to fairly pour out of him, like a stream in flood in the spring. “I went fishing at the river, and a man came to me there—a nobleman, dressed in such finery as I had never seen. He asked me if I wanted to meet my father, and like the curious child I was, I said yes. That man was Sir Egbert. “But he didn’t take me to my father. We rode a long
• 41. CHAPTER TWENTY
• 42. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE THE NEXT DAY, EARL RICHARD rode at the front of the group traveling to Tregellas, with Merrick and Constance on either side of him. Henry and Ranulf were behind them, and then the other nobles, including Sir Jowan and his son. Lord Osgoode had elected to remain in Tintagel, cosseted by his mistress who’d been waiting there for him. Brother Paul had thrown up his hands when Henry insisted upon leaving and claimed he didn’t understand young people anymore. They all seemed anxious to disobey his sage advice. However, no priestly admonition was going to convince Henry to stay in Tintagel. He wanted to get away from that castle as soon as possible. “I tell you, nothing will surprise me after this. Nothing,” Henry said to Ranulf. “Next thing you know, the king will abdicate and join the church.” “If that happens, heaven help the church,” Ranulf replied with a wry grin. “I suppose it does explain a few things about Merrick, though,” Henry mused a moment later. “Yes, it does
• 43. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE