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Lord Carrell likewise hurried forward, albeit with more dignity. “I hope you remember me, my lord. I’m Lord Carrell de Marmont, your neighbor and Constance’s uncle. Of course I would know you anywhere. You have the look of your father about you.”
“Do I?”
Constance had had long practice studying a man’s face for any hint of emotion, to better gauge what she should do. Never had she found a man more difficult to decipher, yet even Merrick’s gaze wasn’t impossible to read. Whatever else he was thinking upon his return, he was not flattered by the comparison to his late father.
Her uncle turned to Constance and held out his hand. “I trust you also remember your betrothed, Lady Constance, although of course she’s changed.”
“So I see,” Merrick agreed as Constance approached, and in the depths of his eyes something seemed to kindle—a spark of recognition? Or a spark of…something else?
She knew she was a comely woman. She’d seen men watch her when she danced and leer at her when they thought she couldn’t see. She knew what lust looked like. Was he his father’s son that way, as well? If so, and betrothed or not, she would stay as far away from him as possible.
Yet his expression was different, too. The desire was tempered, restrained. Held in check, like the rest of his powerful body as he stood motionless in the yard.
Merrick put his hands on her shoulders and drew her close to exchange the kiss of peace. She steeled herself to feel nothing, and to betray nothing, either in look or word.
“I remember you, too, my lord,” she said evenly as she moved back.
Surprise flared briefly. “You were very young when I left here.”
“Not so young that I don’t remember you and some of your…antics.”
His brow furrowed slightly, as if he was trying to remember. “You must forgive me, my lady, if I have forgotten happier times. Much has happened to me since I last saw you.”
She thought of the attack upon his cortege, and a tinge of guilt crept over her. Yet much had happened to her, too, and she would never forget Merrick’s merciless teasing and pinches and the cruel tricks he’d played on the servants.
Merrick turned to the foxlike knight. “This is my friend and sworn comrade, Sir Ranulf.” He nodded at the knight in scarlet. “This other fellow is also my friend and sworn comrade, Sir Henry.”
“They are most welcome, too,” Constance said with a bow.
Sir Henry stepped toward Beatrice, whose face turned nearly as red as his surcoat when he gave her one of the most disarming smiles Constance had ever seen. “And who is this lovely young lady?”
“That is my daughter, Lady Beatrice,” Lord Carrell said stiffly.
“And she is my cousin,” Constance added, a note of warning in her voice. Beatrice was young and had a head full of romance; Sir Henry was handsome and flattering.
“Then I am even more delighted to meet her,” Sir Henry said.
Constance caught the look that passed between Merrick and his other friend—a sort of patient forbearance. So this Sir Henry was the sort who enjoyed charming women. She would warn Beatrice, and the maidservants, too. “I was expecting you to have more of an escort, my lord,” she said, loud enough to draw the attention of everyone nearby, including Sir Henry.
“There was no need,” Merrick replied. “I regret I neglected to inform you, but I had other things on my mind.”
Although she wasn’t sure if he was alluding to their marriage—and everything that went with it—Constance felt the heat of a blush steal up her face and tried to will it away. “What of your baggage, my lord?”
“A carter is bringing it.”
“Shall we retire, nephew?” Lord Algernon asked, a bead of perspiration running down his plump cheek. “We have some fine Bordeaux wine awaiting in the hall.”
“A most welcome suggestion,” Merrick replied before turning to Constance. “I shall lead the way into my hall with my bride-to-be by my side, if she will allow me that honor.”
Since she had no choice, Constance lifted her hand and lightly put it on Merrick’s muscular forearm.
Which was as hard as iron.
An unexpected flutter of heat spread through her body, but she fought to ignore the sensation. So what if he was strong and well built? Had his father not been handsome in his day? Yet look how he had ended. She must not, she would not, tie herself to a man who might turn out the same.
When the group reached the dais, she immediately lifted her hand from her betrothed’s arm.
Merrick didn’t seem to notice. Instead, he addressed Lord Algernon. “Is there not somewhere more private? I prefer not to discuss my estate and my wedding where any servant or foot soldier may overhear.”
His wedding. So he did plan to honor the betrothal agreement. So much for the hope that he would wish to be free of her. She would have to implement her scheme to win her freedom, and the sooner, the better.
“The solar, perhaps?” Lord Algernon suggested.
Merrick turned to his friends. “I leave you in Lady Constance’s care.”
She would have to be careful not to go too far, but she wouldn’t wait to begin her campaign for liberty. She would start now. “If you’re going to talk about our wedding, I should come to the solar, too, should I not? After all, I am the bride.”
At Constance’s determined pronouncement, her uncle stared at her in amazement, while Lord Algernon gaped with undisguised disbelief.
In spite of their obvious surprise, the lord of Tregellas merely raised a coolly inquisitive brow. “As you wish. Lady Beatrice, will you be so good as to take charge of my friends?”
Beatrice blushed to the roots of her honey-blond hair. “Yes, o-of course, my lord,” she whispered as if she were afraid to speak any louder, while Sir Henry smiled as if he’d just been given a present.
Yes, he would bear watching, and Beatrice, too. Constance loved her cousin, and didn’t want Beatrice’s heart broken—or worse, for Beatrice to be dishonored by a charming seducer her betrothed had brought into their midst.
Merrick paused in his progress toward the steps and glanced back over his shoulder. “Well, my lady, will you join us or not?”
Despite his imperious tone, she made no effort to rush as she followed the new lord of Tregellas.
Who seemed to be very much his father’s son after all.
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 worth.
“We hear you’ve been to court many times, my lord,” Lord Carrell began as they arranged themselves like a line of soldiers about to be inspected. “You must have met the king and queen, for which I envy you. Tell me, what do you think of our young ruler?”
Merrick didn’t go around the table and take his seat, as she expected. Instead, he stood in front of it and crossed his muscular arms, regarding them steadily. “King Henry is my sovereign lord.”
“Your liege lord, the earl of Cornwall, often disagrees with his brother the king,” Lord Carrell replied. “Indeed, we hear many barons fear King Henry is too much influenced by his French wife.”
The corners of Merrick’s full lips curved downward in a frown. “Whatever the king does or does not do is not for me to question, and how he comes to his decisions is not for me to ponder.”
Merrick was obviously the sort of nobleman who was loyal no matter what the king did, even if Henry and his French queen were leading the country down the road to rebellion.
And if Merrick, like most noblemen, believed a woman’s place was confined solely to the hearth and home and children, her observations on the political situation, as well as her suggestions as to how he should deal with the earl and the king, would surely be unwelcome. So she blithely began to tell her intended husband exactly what she thought.
“From what I understand of the court, there’s a great deal of conflict between the English barons and the relatives of the queen. The king seems to be making a terrible mistake giving Queen Eleanor’s relatives so much power. As for her insisting that her uncle be made Archbishop of Canterbury, is there a more ambitious, greedy candidate? If that man is holy, I’m a nun. Thank heavens he has yet to be confirmed because the pope is in such difficulty. Now we hear the earl of Cornwall might marry Eleanor’s sister. No doubt the queen seeks to bind him closer to prevent him from leading a rebellion, since there are many who would prefer him to his brother when it comes to commanding the kingdom. After all, it’s because of Richard’s diplomacy that Henry is free after his failed campaign to win back lands in France. And then there’s the matter of Simon de Mont-fort’s marriage to the king’s sister. Is it true de Mont-fort seduced her, or is that just gossip?”
She felt the uncles’ gaze upon her, but she ignored them and continued to look at Merrick, her brows raised in query. “What if Henry does something stupid again and the earl doesn’t rescue him? What if Richard finally turns against him?”
Merrick straightened, lowered his arms and regarded her sternly. “You speak of rebellion and treason, my lady. I will have no such talk, or even the suggestion of it, for any reason, in Tregellas while I command here. If the earl of Cornwall rebels against his brother, if this country is torn apart by civil war, then I shall choose which side to support, and not before.”
A vein in his temple began to throb, just as his father’s had before an enraged outburst. Having already endured enough fits of temper to last a lifetime, and realizing she’d achieved a certain measure of success, Constance changed the subject. “Perhaps we should discuss the wedding.”
“Very well,” Merrick said, nodding his agreement. His features relaxed a fraction, enough to tell her he preferred this subject to politics, or at least her political opinions. “I wish to be married within the week.”
If he’d grabbed her and bitten her, she couldn’t have been more shocked. How could she make him hate her enough to break the betrothal in that short a time? “That’s impossible!”
Merrick merely arched his straight black brows. “Why? You knew we were betrothed, did you not? And that I was to marry you as soon as I inherited the title, if not before. I see no reason to delay.”
“I do,” she retorted, her dismay turning swiftly into indignation. “We need time to prepare food for the feast—”
“The larders are well stocked,” her uncle interrupted. “Indeed, Constance, if Merrick is eager—”
She was anything but eager. “What about our guests? It will take at least a month to invite them, gather responses and prepare accommodations.”
“The only guests I care to have at my wedding are already here.”
“And then there are the wedding clothes…”
Merrick’s dark gaze impaled her. “It wouldn’t matter to me if you were married in your shift.”
Her breath caught for an instant—but only that. “It would matter a great deal to me, my lord,” she declared. “After being delayed for so long, I expect my wedding to be worth the wait.”
“I hope to make it so, my lady.”
Even though she was as incensed as she’d ever been, when he said those words in that low, husky voice, an unwelcome frisson of heated excitement flowed through her traitorous body. But she snuffed it out quickly. This whole discussion was proving that he was still the same selfish, spoiled brat, concerned only about his own needs and desires.
Therefore, she would give him a selfish need, if that was what he required. “Such celebrations are useful for creating alliances. Our wedding could be a valuable opportunity.”
“I wasn’t thinking of my marriage as a political opportunity.”
Only a financial one, she supposed. Why else would he be in such a hurry? If he were truly chivalrous, if he cared at all about her feelings, he would have asked her when the ceremony should be.
“I believe she’s right, nephew,” Lord Algernon seconded, albeit warily. “Perhaps it would be best to move more slowly.”
Constance could have kissed him. “Yes, my lord. I would rather not have our wedding marred by accusations of scandalous and undue haste.”
Merrick’s gaze flicked to the other noblemen. “If you will excuse us, my lords, I would have some words with my betrothed. Alone.”
Alone? Was he mad? Or that sure of his power?
Her uncle and Lord Algernon exchanged brief looks, then bowed a farewell and hurried out the door. So much for their help, she thought sourly. But she had stood alone before a powerful, arrogant man before, and she wouldn’t give in now, not when her freedom was at stake.
“It isn’t right for us to be alone together before we are married,” she declared, heading after the noblemen. “This is most improper.”
The lord of Tregellas moved to stand in her way with surprising, and surprisingly lithe, speed.
“My lord, you may not care about my reputation,” Constance said through clenched teeth as she glared at the man in front of her, “but I do and—”
“I promise you nothing improper will occur, and unless you give me cause, any man or woman who dares imply that your reputation is less than spotless will have to answer to me.”
The sheer forcefulness of Merrick’s response stunned and silenced her.
He reached for one of the stools along the wall and swung it forward as if it weighed no more than a feather, placing it in front of the table. “Please sit down, my lady.”
She crossed her arms. “I prefer to stand, my lord.”
“Very well.” Merrick mercifully stayed where he was. “Do you have some objections to the marriage itself, my lady? If so, I would hear them.”
He spoke so coldly and so severely, she was absolutely certain he would demand her dowry in forfeit if she refused to marry him. “No, my lord,” she lied. “But I would rather not marry so quickly. After all, it’s been fifteen years. We barely know one another.”
To her surprise, his features relaxed a little. “Forgive me, Constance. My suggestion came from my great joy at being home and here with you again. I left a pretty little girl, and I’ve come home to find a beautiful, intelligent woman.”
Was she supposed to be flattered? “Perhaps if you’d come home even once in fifteen years, my appearance and the fact that I’m not a silly fool wouldn’t be so unexpected.”
He stiffened and the little vein in his temple started to throb again.
Good, but she must go carefully.
Yet instead of flying into a fury, Merrick merely shrugged his broad shoulders. “My father made no effort to see me, so I made none to see him.”
What of his betrothed? Had he ever once thought of her until his father died? “He was still your father. As his son, your duty—”
“Don’t!” Merrick snapped.
His dark eyes narrowed and his lips thinned. “Do not ever try to tell me about my duty, my lady,” he warned, his voice low and rough. “Do you think my presence here would have made any difference? Do you honestly believe I could have influenced my father, or made his last days better? I more likely would have killed him.”
Constance could only stare at him, aghast, as she realized he meant what he said. She’d known there was little love between father and son, but she hadn’t expected so much naked hate.
Merrick raked his hand through his long dark hair. “I gather my vassals and tenants weren’t eager to see my father’s son return.”
As it had so often, her concern for those under the lord of Tregellas’s power arose within her and subdued any thoughts of her own troubles. “They’re understandably wary, my lord. After all, they haven’t seen you in years and have no idea what kind of overlord you’ll be.”
“As you, having known my father, are no doubt wondering what sort of husband I’ll make, and likely fearing the worst. I shouldn’t be surprised that you asked for more time before the ceremony.”
She nearly choked. What was he, some kind of seer or mind reader? Or had she been too obvious?
“Did my father…” He hesitated for the briefest of moments before continuing. “Did my father ever lay hands on you?”
It would have been no thanks to her absent betrothed if he had. “My dowry was apparently worth more to him than my maidenhead.”
Merrick winced at her blunt words.
