by Olga Daniels
She watched until they passed out of sight, hidden by the concourse of riders. She wished she had not observed the looks that had passed between them, for undoubtedly the arrival of the beautiful Marchioness had driven all thought of her from Richard’s mind. Then she frowned at her own stupidity, reminding herself to be glad he had gone. She would never have been able to carry out her plan if he had remained close to her, but she could not entirely suppress a twinge of jealousy.
When all was ready the horn sounded again and the whole company moved forward at a gentle walking pace. As soon as they were beyond the confines of the castle and had reached the open countryside the horses were spurred on to a canter and then a gallop. Meg held Molly back and watched them go. She had no wish to keep up.
She allowed Molly to carry her at a gentle trot towards the forest, following the well-worn track. Before long the Earl and Nancy, and all the great company of huntsmen and women, their servants, the verderers and the dogs were so far ahead that she could not even hear them crashing through the undergrowth. She had no idea what they were chasing, and she most certainly had no wish to know. She allowed her mare to amble along at her own pace, walking now. Her quiet rebellion was progressing.
It was peaceful in the forest. Meg decided to keep to the edge of the woodland, ambling along a narrow path that seemed to be very little used. In a small clearing Molly stopped, lowered her head and began to graze on a patch of grass. Meg dismounted, keeping a loose hold on the reins. She sat down on the dry, leaf-strewn ground and leaned back against a tree.
The peace of the woodland calmed her. In its immense depth she was but a minute part of the world, her life a brief span compared to the majesty of the ancient trees. She’d had little chance to think her own thoughts, or be her own person since she had arrived at Bixholm. All day long she’d had to struggle to master some new skill, and the evenings had been endured at the high table beside the Earl, constantly watched by Nancy and dominated by the rough, boisterous company.
It was a pleasure to be on her own, half dozing, absorbing the earth scents, enjoying the dappled sunlight on her face. Time passed without her being aware of it.
Then the jingle of a horse’s harness came to her ears. Someone was riding nearby. She stayed still and silent, hoping whoever it was would pass without seeing her. She experienced a frisson of fear.
Molly neighed.
The rider halted. She held her breath.
Chapter Six
Richard crashed into the clearing.
The wild, angry expression on his face was frightening. He leapt from his horse and dashed towards her.
“Meg!” he cried. “What are you doing here?”
Her mind reacted furiously. Why had he returned? Could she not be away from him for a few hours, or not so much away from him as his efforts to “improve” her? She wished he had not disturbed her solitude—and yet the sight of him set her heart racing.
“Meg?” His voice was more gentle, questioning. He strode towards her, reaching out his arms. “Are you hurt?”
“No.”
He halted. He dropped his arms just as she was about to lift hers towards him. She froze when he suddenly stood still. He was regarding her with a puzzled expression. “Are you sure all is well with you?”
“Most certainly, thank you, Sir Richard.”
He turned his gaze upon the little mare, who continued to pull at the short grass with strong teeth.
“I am perfectly sound in mind and limb,” she assured him. “And so is Molly.”
He looked relieved, though still puzzled. “So? What are you doing here?”
“That is what I wonder every day,” she answered. “Why am I here, Richard? Why are you trying so hard to change me? What was wrong with me before you brought me to this place?”
“Nothing, Meg.”
A grin spread over his face. He threw himself down on the ground beside her. The sudden movement startled her. She looked down, for he was below her now, lying on his side. Only a few blades of grass separated them. She met the challenge of his gaze and felt mesmerised and strangely happy. Every nerve in her body was on edge, alive, throbbing.
“I have no wish to change you,” he said. A husky note deepened his voice. The tone in which he spoke, caressingly soft, affected her. It weakened her, as if she had been struck by a blow in the ribs, but there was no pain, only an overwhelming joy.
It disconcerted her. They were quite alone in the beauty of the woodland glade. The air was sweet and still. Neither of them moved, yet emotion, intangible, but as real as life itself, was drawing them closer.
In desperation she tried to keep the conversation light, wanting to deny there was any deeper sensibility between them.
“No wish to change me?” she mocked. “Even though I refuse to go hunting?”
“Not even that.” He did not laugh. He replied seriously, picked up one of her hands, turned it over and fondled it.
She withdrew it hastily. “Have they finished?” she asked, determinedly prosaic.
“No. They’ll go on for hours yet.”
Then she had to ask. “Why did you come back?”
“To look for you, my lady.”
That was pleasing, but she was not quite ready to accept it. “Did the Earl send you?”
“No.”
Then, with a hint of mischief, and because she needed to hear his reaction, “The Marchioness will miss you.”
“I doubt it. She’s in her element in the chase, especially of males, wild or human.”
He recaptured her hand and kissed it. The tingling sensation that had unnerved her when he settled on the ground at her side intensified. He raised his head, sat up and leaned towards her. Slowly, gently, he brought his face closer to hers. She shut her eyes, and he kissed her.
His soft, sweet lips touched hers lightly, experimentally. She had never before been kissed by a man, not even within the family—no father, uncle or brother—and not on any part of her face. Yet instinctively she responded, allowing her lips to brush his with only the briefest of butterfly touches. She drew away, savouring the delight of that kiss, running her tongue over her lips. After a few moments she opened her eyes and regarded him wonderingly.
Richard guessed it was a new experience for her and he was anxious not to awaken fear in her. His blood pounded hotly through his veins. He longed to clasp her tightly, to plunder her mouth with his, to stroke and caress every inch of her beautiful body. But he checked himself; he had to be careful. He must not lose the trust she had in him. He smiled at her and simply ran his forefinger over her cheek.
“Richard,” she breathed. “Kiss me again.”
He could not resist—it was a deeper kiss this time. He had wanted this from the very first time he saw her, dressed in that awful soiled gown, bravely protecting old blind Davy. She lifted her arms and wound them around his neck. He drew her close against him. At that moment he seemed unable to save himself from drowning in the rich sensuality of arousal.
Yet he remained alert. His eyes were wide open, his ears tuned to the sounds of the wind in the trees, the birds, the woodland creatures. He could not, would not allow desire to lower his defences. There was always danger in the forest, and more for him than for most men. He reminded himself how much was at stake. He could so easily have allowed passion to overwhelm him, but fought against it. To be caught off guard could bring death. He must take no risks. Meg had no protector other than he. It was a bitter irony that she could never be his. His lips parted from hers reluctantly.
“We shouldn’t be doing this,” he said.
She tried to draw him back into her embrace, but he sprang to his feet.
“You must forget this ever happened,” he said.
“Why? We have done no wrong, have we?”
“In the eyes of the world we have.”
“You told me it was essential to flirt,” she objected.
“At Court—yes,” he agreed. “Not here. And not when we both know there
can never be anything between us.”
To emphasise the point he stepped away from her. He listened intently, put a finger to his lips.
“Someone is approaching,”
She held her breath. She heard a jingling harness, a horse’s hooves, moving at a slow walking pace. Richard’s hand was on his sword. Meg crouched back. His stance suggested danger. The sounds came nearer. There was no doubt they would be discovered.
A moment later Gervase Gisbon rode into the clearing. His eyes darted from her to Richard. Meg felt sure he guessed that Richard had kissed her. His sly expression deepened the dislike and distrust she felt for him. Undeniably he was handsome, his skin cleanshaven and smooth, his manners polished—why was it the very sight of him made her flesh creep?
“What a delightful bower you have found,” he said. There was a sneer in his voice.
“It is charming,” Richard agreed easily, but Meg detected the tension in his voice.
“The Earl has been asking for you, Richard,” Gervase announced. “And more particularly for Lady Margaret.”
“How very considerate of him,” said Richard.
“In fact,” Gervase continued, “he is so disturbed by your absence—or more especially that of your fair companion—that he has turned the entire company back to search for you.”
“There was no need for alarm,” Richard assured him. “Lady Margaret’s pony was unable to keep up with the hunt, that is all.”
“Strange. I do not recollect that Lady Margaret’s mount had any difficulty in carrying her from Norwich to Bixholm.”
“That was on well-worn tracks. The mare is unused to the woodland paths.
That was not the full truth, and Meg’s conscience made her feel obliged to explain properly. “That is true,” she said, for she did not wish to suggest that what Richard had said was wrong. “But I did not try to keep up, for I did not wish to take part in the hunt.”
Gervase raised his eyebrows. “How extraordinary!”
“It may seem so to you, but it is the truth,” she assured him.
Gervase looked from Meg to Richard with a disbelieving grin. Then he shrugged his broad shoulders. “You’ll have difficulty explaining that to his lordship. He’ll be here shortly, and I warn you, he is not in the best of tempers.”
“I’m sorry if I have spoiled the day. But I have no wish to hunt.”
Gervase shrugged. “I believe you—the question is, will the Earl?” He backed his horse out of the clearing. “He will, I think be particularly interested to know that Richard is here with you.”
“Richard turned back only because he realised I was missing and he was afraid some ill chance might have befallen me. Just as you did, did you not, Master Gisbon?”
Gervase did not answer.
Richard was becoming impatient. “I suggest we ride back to the castle,” he said. “There is no point in wasting time here.”
“Do you think he’ll send me back to the nunnery?” Meg asked apprehensively. Insecure though she was at Bixholm, she had no wish to return and face the disapproval of the Prioress.
“Not unless his plans come to naught,” said Richard.
Meg shivered. A few minutes previously, lying in his arms, life had seemed vibrant and joyous. Now all was changed. Richard had changed, too. There was no loving tolerance about him now.
“Back on to your mare,” he ordered.
He tossed her up into the saddle as if she was no more than a bundle of straw. She felt humiliated and angry. She did not wait for him. She set Molly moving forward immediately. She feared that Gervase Gisbon would try to prevent her from leaving, but he moved aside to allow her to pass.
Out of the clearing, she was about to turn into the path along which she had ambled contentedly such a short time before. Loud shouts, crashing sounds, the tooting of the hunting-horn, baying dogs, told her the hunting party was close. A moment later they burst out of the woods and surrounded her.
“Ah-ha, Meg. There you are! What’s afoot?” demanded the Earl. “Why are you back here?”
“My lord, I meant no harm, but I know nothing of hunting. I was just enjoying the ride in my own way—”
He wheeled his mighty horse, which seemed double the height of Molly. He scowled. His face was a livid colour. “Ha! In your own way? What the devil does that mean?”
“I did not wish to join the hunt, my lord.”
“Didn’t want to hunt! Never heard of such a thing! Was that your only reason?” He stared at her in disbelief. “You’re sure you were not up to some mischief?”
She regarded him unflinchingly. She did not believe that allowing Richard to kiss her could be categorised as mischief. “Certainly not, sir!”
“Richard!” the Earl yelled.
“Yes, sir.”
“What is your part in this nonsense?”
“When I realised that Lady Margaret had not managed to keep up with the hunt I turned back. I thought her mare might have found the going difficult. I arrived here only a short time before you, sir. As did Master Gisbon.”
“Hmmph! Well, I suppose there’s been no harm done. See that Lady Margaret is better mounted before we commence the ride to London.”
“I will, sir.”
The Earl turned back to Meg. “Next time we hunt, you shall ride alongside me.”
Meg sighed. As usual he had not listened to a word she had said. She did not argue, but she had no intention of hunting with him, or with anyone else! If this prospective husband expected it of her, he would have to be dissuaded.
“You don’t know what you’ve missed, Meg.” The Earl beamed. “We’ve killed a magnificent boar. Biggest beast I’ve seen for many a month. I intend to make a present of it to the King. We’ll move on to London at the end of this week.”
Despite the hunt having been turned back early, all the members were in high spirits. The Earl’s excitement and pleasure in such a successful day was reflected in the general boisterous behaviour. Meg turned Molly and rode towards the castle. Richard was nearby, but there was no opportunity for private conversation as the whole concourse was moving together.
She did not encourage Molly to hurry; she moved aside and allowed other riders to canter past. Although she no longer had the pleasure of being alone in the peace of the forest, she still enjoyed its beauty. It was some time before she emerged from the shadows of the huge old trees into the bright sunshine. From the greensward that then stretched before her the castle rose, majestic and strong. It was impressive, of gleaming cream stone, with towers and turrets and mullioned windows that caught the sun’s rays. She had developed a great liking for the place, and daydreamed as she trotted towards it, imagining improvements she would make if it only belonged to her, as in law it should.
Two riders came into view—not members of the hunting party. They were some distance away, yet she thought she recognised the young woman. It was a moment before she could be sure—then she gazed in amazement, for it was Sarah! Her maid, who had always expressed such an overwhelming fear of horses, was out riding with a gentleman! And not on pillion either, but in the saddle, and cantering! They passed over the brow of a small hill and were soon out of sight. Meg decided to make no mention of it, but to leave it to Sarah to tell her, if she wished. She held the view that what her maid did in her free time was entirely her affair.
That evening Sarah was in an effervescent mood as she helped Meg to prepare for the feast that was to finish the day’s hunt.
“I bin out riding today too, miss,” she said.
“I know, Sarah. I saw you.”
“Never thought as I’d do that, did yer?”
“I must admit, I was surprised.”
Sarah was thoughtful for a moment. Then she spoke again, hesitantly, “My lady, may I ask you a question?”
“Of course, Sarah. When have you ever felt that you needed to ask my permission to speak to me of anything?”
“Never.” Sarah grinned. “But it’s so different here, with you being with
Sir Richard almost all the time, and sitting at the top table with the Earl at meals. Nothing’s like it used to be, is it?”
“That’s true. But I haven’t changed, Sarah. You mustn’t think I don’t wish to speak with you, or spend more time with you. It is simply because his lordship and Nancy and Richard all demand so much of my time. You must never—ever—think that I don’t care for you.” She threw her arms around the girl and hugged her tightly.
Sarah hugged her back and kissed Meg’s cheek. “I know you do, my lady. It’s hard for you here, more so than for me, not knowing what’s to happen an’ all. Truly sometimes I fear for the future.”
“I do, too, Sarah,” Meg said seriously. “They say I am to be married to someone, but they won’t tell me who, no matter how often I ask.”
“It’s not fair that they should treat you like that!”
“But there’s nothing I can do about it,” Meg replied. “Now, tell me, what is it you wish to speak to me about?”
“Well, my lady.” Sarah blushed and hung her head, and seemed unusually tongue-tied for one who was normally so loquacious. “It—it’s just that—well, I was wondering—do you like Alan Crompton?”
“Why, yes, Sarah. I do. And I have the impression that you also like him.”
Sarah looked up with bright eyes, wide open. “He says he likes me too, my lady. But I’m afeared that it’s wrong, because he’s of noble birth and my father was nothing but a labourer in the fields. He didn’t even have his own land, or at least only a little bit.”
“But you have been educated, Sarah. You learned your lessons alongside me. I think that must make a difference. You could hold up your head in any society. Has Alan spoken to you about this?”
“I spoke to him, my lady. I didn’t want him thinking me better than I am.”
“What did he say to that?”