The Unwilling Bride

by Margaret Moore

  Her heart ached to hear the pain in his voice. If only she could say something to comfort him. Perhaps if she slept a bit first…. And then there was that other thing, some important thing…

  “I’ve lied to you, Constance,” he whispered, and her shoulder grew damp. Was he…was he weeping? “I had no right to marry you. No right to claim Tregellas.”

  She must be dreaming. She had to be dreaming.

  Yes, that was it. She was asleep and having a nightmare.

  “But I’ve held your image in my heart for so long, loved and cherished you for so long…and when I saw you again…when I could marry you and have you for my wife…I was too weak to release you.”

  Release? She didn’t want to be released. She wanted only to sleep a little while, to ease the soreness in her head.

  “When you wake up, when you’re better, I promise before God I’ll go to the king and the church and anywhere else I must to end our marriage, so that you can be free again, as you should be. I’ve sinned a great sin against you, Constance, and I hope…I pray…that someday you’ll forgive me.”

  She tried once more to open her mouth, to say his name, but she was drifting back into that dark oblivion. She mustn’t. Not yet.

  “My lord, I beg of you, please!” the unfamiliar voice pleaded softly from far away. “You must let your wife rest.”

  She fought hard to speak, to open her eyes. “Hen…ry,” she whispered.

  Merrick sucked in his breath and his hand released hers.

  He had heard her. She wanted to say more, that Henry had tried to help her, but the effort of speaking had taken what remained of her strength.

  “My lord, please!”

  “I’m going. Do everything you can, Father. Send word to me at Tintagel. I have business there that cannot wait.”

  “The other man you brought, my lord. He’s hurt and should be—”

  “He should be dead and he soon will be, but not before I’m finished with him.”

  “May God have mercy on his soul,” the other man said sadly.

  The last thing Constance heard before she lost consciousness was her husband’s grim response. “May God have mercy on us both.”

  “MY LADY?”

  Constance’s eyelids fluttered open. Her head still ached, but not so much. She looked at the lime-washed walls around her bed, felt the rough, simple linen against her skin and the scratchy wool blanket, noted the crucifix on the wall opposite—and realized Ranulf was bending over her. “Where’s Merrick?” she whispered.

  “Tintagel,” he replied, his expression grave as he sat on a stool beside her bed.

  “Here, my lady, drink this.”

  She hadn’t realized another man was there, but she recognized the voice from before. He’d been the other man in the room when Merrick was with her. A sad, distraught, then grimly resolute Merrick.

  She turned her head, to find a pleasant-looking, tonsured monk offering her a cup.

  “This is Brother Paul,” Ranulf explained. “He’s the physician here and has been taking care of you. You fell from your horse.”

  “Yes, I remember.” She put her hand to her head, then frowned as she remembered more. She struggled to sit up, aided by the physician. She took the cup and sipped the soothing mulled wine as Ranulf watched anxiously.

  “Why are you here?” she asked Ranulf as she handed the cup back to the monk, her hands trembling slightly. “Is there trouble at Tregellas?”

  Ranulf shook his head. “No. I came to find you, my lady.”

  “Merrick sent word that our cortege was attacked?”

  “No. Henry sent word it was about to be.”

  She sat up straighter. “Henry came out of nowhere and grabbed my horse. He tried to help me get away.”

  “Perhaps this can wait until another time, Sir Ranulf,” Brother Paul suggested. “The lady is still not well—”

  “I’m well enough,” Constance insisted. She turned her full attention back to Ranulf, her aching head forgotten. “Henry knew about the attack?”

  “Yes, but I gather his rescue wasn’t completely successful, or he would be here, too.”

  “I don’t know what happened after I fell.” She frowned, struggling to remember the first time she’d come to consciousness. “Merrick was here. He said…”

  He’d said he’d lied. He’d said he had no right to marry her. “I tried to tell him Henry was there, but I couldn’t.”

  “You were seriously hurt, my lady,” Brother Paul said softly. “You need to rest.”

  “I appreciate your concern, good brother, and I’m grateful for your help, but I’m sure you can understand that I must know what happened,” she said before again addressing Ranulf. “Where’s Henry now?”

  “I don’t know. I came here as soon as I got his message. He said you would be here, waiting for me.”

  “Why did he not send a warning to Merrick? Why to you?”

  “He feared that Merrick wouldn’t believe him.”

  “And you would?”

  “I have no reason not to, and I didn’t quarrel with Merrick. Henry planned to save you during the attack and bring you here, where I would find you. Later, I was to go to Merrick and tell him what Henry had learned. Henry thought Merrick would be more inclined to believe him after the attack.”

  “What about Merrick? What if he’d been hurt or even killed?”

  Ranulf made a little smile. “Having seen Merrick fight, Henry didn’t think that likely.”

  Constance wouldn’t have shared that confidence, although it seemed Henry and Ranulf were right. Merrick hadn’t been killed. “What had Henry learned?”

  Ranulf started to rise. “The details can wait until you’re feeling better.”

  She put her hand on Ranulf’s arm. “I want to know everything now.”

  Ranulf glanced at Brother Paul.

  “Even if you go,” Constance threatened, “I won’t rest for wondering what you were going to say.” She softened her tone and her expression. “Please stay, Ranulf.” She looked beseechingly at the monk. “Brother Paul, have mercy and let him.”

  “Very well,” the physician reluctantly agreed. “But if you feel tired or dizzy or faint, he must go.”

  “I give you my word that he will,” she promised.

  “Perhaps, my lady,” Ranulf said with a significant look, “it would be better to keep this conversation between the two of us, as it touches on serious political matters.”

  “I think that would be wise,” Constance agreed, even as she wondered what exactly he meant by serious political matters. “If you don’t mind, Brother Paul? You may leave the door open and watch from the corridor. Ranulf will summon you if I feel sick or faint.”

  Her words might have been conciliatory, but her tone was not. Recognizing the commands for what they were, or perhaps not wishing to become involved in any political troubles, Brother Paul rose and quietly departed the chamber, leaving the door ajar.

  “Now then, Ranulf, tell me all,” Constance said with both anxiety and impatience.

  “Henry’s message said that he had discovered a conspiracy.”

  “Against the king? Or the earl of Cornwall?”

  “Both—and against you and your husband.”

  She could easily understand why his enemies would want Merrick dead, for he would be an implacable foe. “But why me?” she wondered aloud. “Am I not more valuable alive, to hold for ransom or to ensure my husband’s silence or cooperation?”

  “If this were strictly a political conspiracy, yes.”

  Constance shifted. “It’s not?”

  Ranulf shook his head. “I regret being the bearer of such news, but greed as well as ambition inspire your enemies.”

  “Who are they?” she demanded.

  “Your uncle, and Merrick’s.”

  “Lord Carrell?” It was like getting another blow to the head. Dizzy, she closed her eyes and willed herself not to swoon.

  She heard Ranulf rise.

  �
�No!” she cried softly, grabbing his arm. “I’m all right. Please stay.”

  “You’re ill, my lady. I told you too much too soon. The rest can wait.”

  Her grip tightened on his arm like a vise. “Please!”

  Ranulf reluctantly sat back down. “Apparently Lord Algernon wants Tregellas, and Lord Carrell has agreed to help him in this quest.”

  Lord William had often claimed that Algernon begrudged him Tregellas and would stop at nothing to get it. So Algernon might be involved, but…“My uncle would never hurt me.”

  Ranulf raised a brow. “Yet he left you in the care of a man who, I gather, was only slightly better than Caligula.”

  “I was betrothed to Lord William’s son.”

  “Before Lord Carrell had a daughter of his own. After she was born, the bargain couldn’t be broken without penalty.”

  She was well aware of that—and that her uncle could be miserly.

  “Perhaps he even hoped your future father-in-law would do his work for him and kill you in one of his rages,” Ranulf suggested.

  That would explain why he’d left her in Tregellas all those years, no matter what Lord William did.

  “If Merrick and I are both dead, Lord Algernon will inherit Tregellas, but why would my uncle want him to have it?”

  “So that his daughter may marry the lord of Tregellas instead of his niece.”

  She gasped as the answers to other questions fell into place. Why he’d never arranged a marriage for Beatrice or even mentioned it. The looks the two older men sometimes exchanged, their whispered conferences. And yet…“There’s no reason she couldn’t marry Algernon now.”

  “Except that Lord Algernon doesn’t yet possess Tregellas, and all that goes with it. He gets Beatrice and a blood bond with Lord Carrell only after he has inherited the estate.”

  It sounded incredible, yet she could believe it. “How did Henry come to find this out?”

  “After he left Tregellas he encountered your uncle, who’d heard of his quarrel with Merrick. Your uncle offered him a place. Finding both your uncle’s manner and offer suspicious, Henry accepted. He discovered evidence of a conspiracy, including some very incriminating letters. I’ve seen them, and I fear there’s no doubt of your uncle’s guilt, my lady.”

  “How did Henry get these letters?”

  “It would probably be better not to ask,” Ranulf replied with the hint of a smile. “Henry’s very adept at getting around a castle without being seen.”

  While on his way to amorous assignations, no doubt. “However he came by the knowledge, I’m grateful.”

  Ranulf’s eyes gleamed like jewels. “What Lord Algernon doesn’t seem to realize is that if Beatrice is widowed, her father will as good as control Tregellas and all the power that goes with it.”

  Regardless of Ranulf’s presence, Constance threw back the covers and started to get out of bed.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” Ranulf demanded, too shocked to be polite.

  “We must go to Tintagel at once.” She had to see her husband as soon as possible, and not just to tell him what Henry had learned. She had to know what Merrick meant when he’d told her that he’d lied and he would release her from their marriage.

  “The moment I got Henry’s message, I sent a warning to Merrick of the plot against you.”

  Constance wasn’t comforted. “You obviously don’t know my uncle. If the messenger has reached Tintagel safely, if he gets the message to Merrick, my uncle is still clever enough to have the earl believing Merrick is the real conspirator, planning treason against the king. Or he’ll throw the blame onto Lord Algernon entirely. We must go to Tintagel. Where’s Henry now?”

  “I have no idea. He told me only that he would try to get you to the monastery. He didn’t say what he planned to do after that.”

  “Then we’ll pray he’s safe and find him later.”

  A BUCKET OF ICE-COLD WATER landed on Henry, soaking his soiled, torn clothing and the dank straw upon which he lay. Coughing and spluttering through bruised and cut lips, he cried out as other pain assailed him when he moved—from his ribs, his wrists enclosed in iron fetters, his legs in chains…

  Somebody kicked his ankle, hard. “Wake up, you lump of dung.”

  He opened his swollen eyelids as best he could, to see Merrick glaring at him like an avenging angel in the flickering light of a torch, his drawn sword clutched in his other hand.

  Merrick, who’d ridden him down like a stag and cornered him. Who’d ferociously attacked and wouldn’t listen as he tried to explain—

  Merrick kicked him again. “I know you’re awake.”

  Holding his side, Henry tried to stand.

  Merrick shoved him down to a kneeling position. “You have no right to stand before me, you traitorous dog.”

  “You don’t understand—”

  “The hell I don’t! I saw you with my own eyes try to steal my wife.”

  “No,” Henry protested, his voice hoarse with thirst and pain.

  Once more Merrick struck him with his booted foot. “Liar! Base, vile liar! Dishonorable viper!” He bent over, so that his accusing, glaring eyes were looking directly into Henry’s. “There is nothing you could have done that would make me hate you more.”

  “I swear—”

  “What, you would make another oath?” Merrick replied scornfully as he straightened. “What happened to the one you already swore, that you would be my loyal brother to the death?”

  “I’ve kept—”

  “By lusting after my wife? By trying to kidnap her?” Merrick brought the tip of his sword to rest just under Henry’s left eye. “Death is too good for a man like you.”

  “Listen to me!” Henry pleaded, desperation lending him strength. “I was trying to save her.”

  “From what?” Merrick demanded. “Me?”

  “Lord Carrell,” Henry replied, gasping with the effort. “And Lord Algernon. They planned the attack, not me.”

  The tip of the sword bit into Henry’s skin. “Is there no end to your wickedness that you’d accuse our own relatives?”

  “It’s true,” Henry insisted. “And Lord Carrell and Lord Algernon are not just your enemies—they’re plotting against the king, too. I have proof, letters Carrell was sending north to other traitors.”

  “How did you come upon these incriminating letters?” Merrick sneered. “Did Lord Carrell ask you to deliver them?”

  “No—he had other work for me to do.” Henry pressed on before Merrick spoke again. “He heard we’d quarreled and he sought me out. He offered me a place in his service. I felt in my bones there was more to it, that he wasn’t to be trusted, and he soon proved me right. He all but offered me Constance if I would serve him.”

  “Liar!”

  “Ask Ranulf if you don’t believe me. I sent him a message, telling him everything. He was to meet Constance and me at the monastery near here after I’d taken her there. Then we would both come to tell you what I’d learned. He’s got the letters, too, so he would know I was in earnest, and to keep them safe. He should be at the monastery. Wait for him before you kill me, Merrick, please!”

  Again the sword nipped, and a slow trickle of blood ran down Henry’s cheek, to fall and mingle with the other blood already staining his tunic. “Why send this proof to Ranulf and not me?”

  “Because I thought you’d be more likely to believe it if Ranulf was already convinced. But you must believe me. Lord Carrell and Lord Algernon are your enemies, not me!”

  “What a convenient way to purchase more time—blaming others. Although what good you think it’s going to do you, I can’t guess. Have you any notion where you are?”

  Henry looked at the damp stone walls around him. “A dungeon.”

  “You’re in Tintagel. The earl of Cornwall himself is going to pass judgment on you. You might as well stop lying, Henry. It’s not going to save your miserable life.”

  “For God’s sake, I’m telling you the truth! Your uncle
wants Tregellas.”

  “And he simply came out and told you, just as Lord Carrell blithely offered you my wife?” The sword moved to Henry’s throat. “I should kill you right now.”

  “I’m not lying! He didn’t offer me Constance like a merchant making a trade. He implied she could be mine if you were dead. But that was just a ruse to get me to serve him.”

  “And apparently a good one.”

  “He was sure that because we’d quarreled, I would be against you.”

  “Not surprising, given that you’ve betrayed me.”

  “But I didn’t! I was angry, yes, and upset with you, but I’d never betray our oath, or our friendship. I agreed to serve him to protect you!”

  “And thus you led a force that attacked me, my men and my wife.”

  “Because if I didn’t, I couldn’t have saved Constance!”

  “You planned to save her by abducting her and taking her where? And doing what?” The sword tip was against Henry’s chest now. “I saw how you looked at her, Henry.”

  “She’s a beautiful woman, and, yes, if she were free, I’d do everything I could to get her into my bed. But I swear to you, Merrick, I’d never try to seduce your wife.”

  “Perhaps seduction was not your aim.”

  Henry’s eyes widened with shocked dismay, then his face twisted with anguish. “God, Merrick, you don’t think I’d rape her?”

  “For all I know, you could be capable of anything.”

  “For God’s sake—and the sake of our friendship all these years—listen to me! Carrell doesn’t just want you dead. He plans to kill Constance, too.”

  “Why? What purpose would her death serve?”

  “That way, Algernon would inherit Tregellas. Then he’s to marry Beatrice, so that Carrell and Algernon would be bonded by blood.”

  “A fine story,” Merrick said through clenched teeth. “A very pretty tale.”

  “I knew you could protect yourself in a fight, so I was trying to get Constance to safety. I would have succeeded, too, except that she fell.”

  The sword pressed harder against him. “Yes, she fell and now lies unconscious. If she dies, I’m going to kill you myself. Very, very slowly.”

  Henry’s already pale face blanched beneath the filth. “I swear to you on my life, Merrick, I was trying to get her to safety.”