Page 107 of The Unwilling Bride
Instead of smiling at her response, however, he remained grave as he took hold of her hands. “Peder had other news. It seems Eric was caught trying to force another girl in Truro. He’s in prison there now.”
“Good!”
“At least he didn’t get Annice with child.” Merrick’s face clouded for a moment. “I didn’t mean to speak of such matters tonight.” He let go of her hands and patted his tunic. “I’ve brought you a gift to…to make up for many mistakes.”
“I made mistakes, too.”
“Not like mine.” He lowered his voice and spoke in a seductive purr. “Will you come and get it?”
She gave him a sultry smile in return. “It’s in your tunic, not your breeches?”
“Your impertinence continues to astonish me, my love,” he replied with that devastating little smile that nearly made her forget what she was about.
“Your body continues to astonish me,” she whispered as she insinuated her hand into his tunic.
“Beware. It has teeth.”
She stopped and looked swiftly up at his face. His smiling, handsome face. “But it shouldn’t hurt you,” he said. “I hope you like it.”
“I’m sure I will,” she replied as she reached farther inside, taking her time and moving her hand over far more of his broad chest than was strictly necessary until she felt something enshrouded in velvet cloth. She drew it out and regarded him quizzically, then unwrapped a beautiful comb of horn, the top wonderfully carved with tiny flowers.
“Oh, Merrick, it’s lovely!” she cried, running her fingertip over the carvings.
“May I?” he asked, holding out his hand.
She gave him a puzzled look, then she understood and, smiling, went to the stool at her dressing table. He followed and began to comb her thick, luxurious hair that he’d admired from afar all those years ago.
Leaning back, Constance closed her eyes. “I hope you really don’t mind Beatrice being here. She’s much quieter than she used to be.”
“It’s not her chatter that troubles me. She can be quite amusing. I’m just not looking forward to all the young swains we’ll have to accommodate when they come seeking her out. She’s becoming a very beautiful, charming young lady.”
Constance opened her eyes, to see her husband’s rugged chin. “Beautiful? I know she’s a pretty girl, but…”
Merrick leaned forward and kissed her forehead. “You see her with the eyes of a cousin. I see her with a man’s eyes, and believe me, my beloved, she’s fast turning into the sort of woman men will fight over. Have you never noticed how much she resembles you?”
In truth, Constance hadn’t. “Perhaps she does, a little,” she mused. “Her hair is darker than mine and her eyes a deeper blue.”
“No woman will ever be as beautiful to me as you are, but she’s going to be very lovely indeed. I would rather not have lovesick young men coming to blows in our hall.”
“Perhaps we should think of finding a husband for her ourselves then,” Constance proposed.
“Kiernan seemed quite attentive during the evening meal.”
Constance turned so fast, the comb caught in her hair. “Ow!” she cried, putting her hand to her head as she gave him a dumbfounded look. “Kiernan?”
“What’s wrong, my love?” Merrick replied as he worked to extricate the comb without snapping any of the teeth. “He’s young, he seems honorable and an alliance with his family would be advantageous.”
“He’s just…he’s just not the sort of man who’d beright for Beatrice,” she said, knowing her excuse was feeble, but certain in her heart that Kiernan couldn’t make Beatrice happy.
“What sort of man do you think Beatrice should marry, besides a very patient one?”
Although his tone was teasing, Constance answered seriously. “A man who’ll love her as she deserves to be loved.”
“Have you any candidates in mind?”
She hadn’t before, but now one came to her, and although she surprised herself with her instinctive choice, the moment his name popped into her head, she felt it was right. “Ranulf.”
That took Merrick aback—literally. “Ranulf?”
