Catherine Coulter

by The Valcourt Heiress

  When she’d awakened in Garron’s bed that morning, he’d been gone, but it hadn’t mattered. She felt wonderful except for the soreness. Did he feel wonderful? Was he sore? She didn’t know how that worked.

  She wondered what he was thinking, what plans he was making. Would he still insist they go to London? Had he made a list? Would he show her his list?

  None of the women said a word to her about sleeping in the master’s bed the previous night. Gilpin looked at her from the corner of his eyes, and continued whistling. It was a huge relief, but she still felt embarrassed. She had given her virginity to a man who was not her husband. Surely she deserved a bit of damnation, but she didn’t care. And still, Sir Lyle watched her. He drank the rest of his ale, then lazily rose from the bench and strode over to her. “I wish to speak to you.”

  “Short of covering my ears, I cannot stop you.”

  “You do not wish me to speak in front of all these women.”

  “Why not?”

  He drew himself to his full height, not all that impressive. “I know you are not a priest’s bastard. I do not know exactly who you are, but I will know soon, and I will denounce you to Lord Garron. Even though you went to his bed, he will send you away from Wareham.”

  She gave him a sunny smile. “I do not know exactly who you are either, Sir Lyle, but I will know soon and then Garron will know, and I’ll wager he’ll kill you dead.”

  His face darkened with rage and his hands fisted. He looked ready to strike her down. She felt a bolt of fear, but then Miggins was standing at her side. “Here’s some sweet bread for ye, mistress, jest out of Bullic’s clean oven. I dripped a bit of honey on top.” As she spoke, Miggins slid herself between Sir Lyle and Merry.

  “Thank you, Miggins.” Merry took a bite of the bread. It tasted like fear. She forced herself to swallow, and smile. “It is delicious.” All the women were listening now, leaning toward her. What would happen, she wondered, if Sir Lyle struck her? Would the women attack him? She saw them moving even closer.

  “Miggins, how is your cough this morning?”

  “Nearly gone, mistress, nearly gone. The potion ye gave me was powerful bad, it made my innards creak and groan.”

  “That means it’s working.” I hope. “You must drink more this morning.”

  “Oh aye, I’ll drink yer potion. Mayhap I’ll give some to Sir Lyle, mayhap it will ease his humors. Ye really should step back from the mistress.”

  “She’s naught but the master’s harlot. I would not drink anything she has brewed.”

  Miggins didn’t move. “Ye must needs step back from the mistress, Sir Lyle.”

  “Aye, she’s a harlot. Everyone knows he took her to his bed last night.”

  Miggins smiled with her three remaining teeth. “I begin to question yer brains, sirrah. Step back else ye might find yerself on yer back with all our heels digging into yer chest.”

  He looked around at the sound of the women’s angry voices. He said over Miggins’s head, “This flock of vultures would not dare to touch me.”

  Merry said, “Do you wish to wager your life on that, Sir Lyle? Look, Talia has a stout broom in her hands and Elaine is holding a chamber pot. Tell me, are you here for Arthur’s silver coins? How did you hear of it? Come, tell me, who told you about the silver?”

  “ ’Tis you who are here for no good. ’Tis you who wish Lord Garron ill.” He spat on the reeds near her right foot, wheeled about, and walked straight into Garron.

  “Sir Lyle, is something wrong?”

  “Nay, my lord. I was on my way to meet with my men on the practice field.”

  “Not this morning. We will leave within the hour for London. Bring two of your men with you.”

  Sir Lyle merely nodded and strode out of the great hall.

  “Merry! Come here!”

  He looked windblown, irritated, and she was so glad to see him she skipped up to him, not difficult since Lady Anne’s gown was so short, whistling like Gilpin. She gave him a dazzling smile. “Good morning, Garron. I trust you slept well?”

  He paused a moment at that smile. It was as beautiful as it was wicked. He automatically searched out the three small braids hidden in her hair. He found only two. Was that the third, nearly hidden beneath that thick plait? He raised his hand to search it out, got hold of himself, and lowered his hand back to his side. “I did not get to sleep all that much,” he said.

  “Mayhap I should make both of us a sleeping potion of passion flower and woodruff, valerian too, I believe, since, like you, I did not sleep all that much either. But the truth is, my lord, when I did sleep, I nestled with the angels.” She tapped her chin. “Hmmm, I must see if such a potion is an infusion or a decoction.”

  “You nestled with the Devil, more like.” He’d held her tightly against his chest until he’d awakened early that morning to the awful realization that his world had changed irrevocably and all because of this girl with her clever braids and beautiful smile. And her lists.

  “The Devil, you say?” She arched an eyebrow and grinned shamelessly up at him.

  “It seems Gilpin believed me to have an enemy in my chamber.”

  “Do you think so? You did yell, that is—”

  “Be quiet.”

  “If so, the enemy seems to have laid you low.”

  He wanted to laugh, but wasn’t about to. “Get yourself ready. We go to London to see the king. I would prefer to leave you here but I dare not. You might find Arthur’s silver coins and flee to Scotland.”

  She lowered her voice to a whisper since every ear in the great hall was listening. “I will do just as you say. But surely, do you not think we should wed first? Then everything will be quite clear for the king.”

  He spoke over her. “You will do as you’re told, do you understand me? You will keep your tongue behind your teeth. This is between me and the king. You will not interfere.”

  “Let us wed first, Garron.”

  “No. Besides, there is no priest here to wed us. Your sainted father was killed in the Retribution, do you not remember?”

  She ignored his sarcasm because her future was at stake and she couldn’t back down. “Where does one find a priest?”

  Miggins called out, “Worthward Abbey is not all that far distant, there are many priests there, praying endlessly on their scarred knees, I doubt not, the poor sots.”

  “Excellent, we can be wed before nightfall.”

  “No. Be quiet. Get yourself prepared.”

  She didn’t like it. What was he planning to say to the king? How would he talk him around? She saw he was waiting for her to open her mouth, probably to blight her, and so she kept quiet. She was ready to beg the king on her knees to allow her to wed Garron. She was ready to spice up her offer with Arthur’s vast cache of silver coins as soon as she found it, if only he would bless their union and leave Garron’s head attached to his neck. Everything would be all right.

  He cupped her chin in his palm and forced her face up and said low, his mouth not an inch from hers, his breath warm on her cheek, “You got what you wanted, but it wasn’t at all pleasant for you. Was it worth such a sacrifice?” He wasn’t about to tell her he’d felt like he’d flown off the earth and lazed around in the clouds. Even though this girl was half his size, she was dangerous. And an heiress. “Well, was it?”

  She nodded. He tightened his hold on her chin. “I do not trust you. What are you planning now? You will not make a list of arguments to present to the king, do you understand me?”

  “Of course I understand you, your whisper is as loud as a yell. You do realize that everyone knows I am no longer a maid. Sir Lyle called me your harlot.”

  “He would not dare. You made that up because you don’t like him.”

  She shrugged. “Ask Miggins.”

  “Miggins as well as every other cursed female in Wareham would lie instantly for you.”

  That was probably true even though she had no idea why. After all, she made them work until they could
scarce stand straight at the end of the day.

  “I wonder if everyone realizes it was you who came to me, that I wasn’t the rutting stoat to take your valuable virginity?”

  “To ensure your continued excellent reputation, I will tell them it was I who took you.”

  “Damn you, don’t make me sound like a puling little lad.”

  She looked at him thoughtfully for a moment. “Do you know, I have wondered what would have happened had you not believed I was this cow, Blanche. Would you have continued to snore through the night rather than grab me?”

  “It is quite possible, since you had no idea what to do. Why do you call her a cow? You did last night as well.”

  “You said she was bountiful, more than enough for six men’s hands.”

  “I did not say that.”

  She nodded. “Well, mayhap not precisely that, but all that bounty makes her a cow. I know what to do now. I know everything.” And she preened, she actually preened.

  He snorted. “You are still as ignorant as Eric the goat.”

  She said over him, “When I see Blanche the cow, I will thank her for training you.”

  Garron nearly exploded.

  She patted his arm and leaned in close. “Everyone is listening. Garron, I don’t want you to worry. I have no need to write out my list, I have already memorized all my excellent points.”

  “If you do not shut your mouth, I will pull up your gown and smack your white bottom, with everyone looking on, do you hear me, Merry?”

  It was on the tip of her tongue to ask him if he liked her white bottom since he’d kept his hands on her bottom a great deal of the previous night, but she saw he looked ready to carry out his threat. “Aye, I hear you. I must fetch us food. How long will our journey be?”

  “Three days, no more, unless it rains, then it will still require three days but we will be miserable.”

  She laughed and skipped away. She did not need three days to perfect her strategy because she already knew she had the most powerful ally in the realm on her side—the Queen of England.

  “Miggins!”

  The old woman sidled up to him. “Aye, my beautiful boy?”

  Garron looked down at that ancient face. “Did Merry’s infusion work? How is your cough?”

  The old woman cackled. “As dead and gone as the precious maidenhead of my sweet mistress.”

  32

  LONDON

  THE WHITE TOWER

  The king, Garron was told by Baron Cotswolt, was in Cornwall, visiting his uncle, the Duke of Cornwall. Robert Burnell was with him. No, the queen had not accompanied him.

  Merry raised her eyes to the vaulted ceiling and thanked God for granting her fervent prayer. Before Garron could haul her off to Cornwall, Merry asked Baron Cotswolt if Queen Eleanor would see them.

  Baron Cotswolt could not think of any reason to deny her, and thus he led the way to the queen’s apartments.

  When Baron Cotswolt kept Garron back to question him about the Black Demon, Garron sent her a look that threatened death or dismemberment. In return, she gave him a sweet smile that made his belly curdle, and hurried into the queen’s solar. She saw the queen was nursing a babe, no surprise since it seemed to her that the queen was always nursing a new babe. She was sitting in a warm splash of sunlight, silk pillows stacked around her, humming a song Merry had written for her.

  Alice of Kent met Merry at the door, eyebrows raised over beautiful green eyes. “I cannot believe it is really you. You swore you would never return. At least you are no longer a scruffy child. You have grown up well, Merry. I rather thought you would. I hear you traveled here with Garron of Kersey. It will be lovely to see him again. Tell me, how did this come about?”

  How could she possibly know all this so quickly? “How very nice to see you again, Alice.” Merry was looking around for Blanche, and there she was, Merry was sure of it, her gown cut low, her mighty breasts on display, smiling at something one of the other ladies said. She was indeed bountiful. Best be sure. “Alice, who is that lady yon? She was not here when I was.”

  “That is Blanche of Howarth.”

  The woman looked toward Merry, called to Alice, “And just who is this, Alice? Do not say it is the girl who accompanied Garron here.”

  Queen Eleanor called out, “Merry? Is it you, child? Welcome. Come here and meet my newest daughter, little Blanche. She is the image of my dear lord. Would you look at all the golden hair and blue eyes, and a nose that will doubtless become long and thin, just like her father’s?”

  As the queen extended her soft white hand, Merry was afraid that hers were rough. “She is the most beautiful babe I have ever seen, my lady.”

  Eleanor laughed, released her hand, and patted her cheek. “Of course, she is. All Plantagenet babes are beautiful. She is also hungry, always she is hungry.” As she spoke, the queen looked down at her daughter frantically suckling at her breast, dropped a kiss on the babe’s forehead, and looked back up at Merry. “You have grown taller. Goodness, you are taller than any of my ladies. Take off your wimple and show me your beautiful hair. Ah, such a lovely red and as glorious as ever. I like the plaits, they suit you. Ladies! Come and greet Merry.”

  Six ladies dutifully arranged themselves around the queen and greeted Merry courteously. They smiled, noted her too-short, out-of-date gown, the ugly old slippers, and wondered what she was doing here, and with Garron of Kersey.

  As suddenly as the queen had called them over and introduced them to Merry, she dismissed them. When the six ladies were out of hearing, the queen cleared her throat, put her babe to her other breast, covered her golden head. “I have heard several of my ladies speak of Garron of Kersey with a great deal of affection. Why are you here with him?”

  “I had forgot how quickly news spreads here at court.”

  “Gossip flows more quickly than my lord’s fine wine down our barons’ gullets.”

  “Still, we only just arrived, and Baron Cotswolt brought us directly here.”

  “One of the pages recognized both you and Lord Garron and immediately came to tell Blanche. The pages tell Blanche everything because she gives them sweetmeats.”

  So Blanche of the huge breasts passed out bribes. That was smart of her and Merry hated her all the more for it. Merry looked at the queen’s lovely face. There was so much to tell her—My father died, my mother sold me to Jason of Brennan, and I escaped only to be kidnapped and Garron saved me—

  She felt tears sting her eyes. She slipped to her knees and rested her cheek on the queen’s knee. “So much has happened, my lady.”

  Eleanor stroked Merry’s hair, fingered the fat plaits, and saw a grown lady, not a girl. “What is it, Merry?”

  She whispered, “I wish to wed him, my lady. We seek the king’s blessing, but he is not here to give it, and I am afraid Garron will insist on searching him out in Cornwall, and the king will not give his permission and instead he will order Garron to have his head cut off because I am an heiress and no longer a maid and it is Garron who is responsible, only it was I who seduced him, I swear it. He is good and honorable.”

  Merry looked up when Garron ran into the queen’s solar, Baron Cotswolt on his heels, three guards clanking in their wake. He saw the gaggle of beautifully gowned ladies staring at him, but it didn’t matter, his eyes were on Merry, who was sitting on a huge silk pillow on the floor beside the queen. He stopped dead in his tracks. “Merry! I did not hear what you said, but shut your mouth!”

  He suddenly became aware that the queen’s hand was stroking Merry’s hair and she was suckling a babe. “Ah, I bid you good health, my lady.” He gave her a beautiful formal bow even as he gnashed his teeth. “Forgive me for intruding, but—”

  Eleanor interrupted him, her voice soft and pleasant, “Baron Cotswolt, do not be alarmed. As you know, Garron of Kersey was the king’s own guard for three years. He is well known to me. You may leave him here without fear for my person,” and she dismissed him with a regal nod.

&n
bsp; The baron managed not to stare at the queen as she covered her babe’s head and her white breast with a pale blue silk shawl. He frowned toward Merry, nodded to Garron, and unwillingly took himself out of the solar.

  When the thick door finally closed, Garron realized he didn’t know what to do. He saw Blanche and two other ladies he’d bedded, Alice and Mathilda, all three of them staring at him like he was a meaty bone. He would swear in that moment the stones shifted beneath his booted feet, and he knew there was a deep, deep pit beneath those stones, maybe even Hell. Merry was still curled up on the floor next to the queen, not moving, just staring at him. By all the saints’ long-suffering mothers, what had she said to the queen? Had he heard the word “seduce”? He was a dead man. He remembered Burnell’s talk of the executioner and his unfortunate eyesight, and swallowed.

  No, he wasn’t going to have his head chopped off, not if he did this properly. But he had planned all his arguments for the king—practical reasons, sound reasons, all of those reasons to benefit the king’s coffers, and he’d had only minutes to change the nature of his explanations for the queen’s delicate ears. He looked at her and saw softness, a lovely gown, and shining hair, and felt like a mongrel caught digging in a bed of roses.

  He could but try.

  He gave her another bow. “My lady, pray forgive my intrusion.” He pointed to Merry. “I hope this one here has told you she is in my care.”

  “Actually, my lord, she did not tell me that.”

  “She is in my care, my lady. Ah, what did she say to you?”

  The queen laughed. “It seems you are wanted as a husband, Garron of Kersey. What say you?”

  He’d only been a moment behind her, well, maybe several moments, and yet she’d managed to get that out so quickly? What to say? He cleared his throat and plowed forward. “My lady, I know well it is the king’s prerogative to select this one’s husband since her father is dead and she has the gall to be a damned heiress and thus men kidnapped her, and I know that I cannot simply wed her.” He faltered.

  “I pray you be seated, Garron. You are so tall my neck is creaking. Vivien, bring my lord a chair.”