Page 27 of The Unwilling Bride
Sir Jowan stopped frowning, and chuckled good-naturedly. “No, I don’t, but if I did, I’d surely introduce you.”
So he was proud, but didn’t seem to hold a grudge.
The younger Cornishman, however, shot his father a condemning look. The fierce pride of youth, which is not so quick to recede, or a hatred for Normans? Merrick wondered. Or perhaps he didn’t approve of Henry and his easy charm.
“With your manners, you won’t be landless and unmarried for long,” Sir Jowan assured Henry, apparently not noticing his son’s reaction. “I’m surprised no woman’s caught you yet.”
“I’m waiting to fall in love,” Henry said with a smile. “My brother and sister recommend it as a prerequisite to marriage.”
“And you, my lord?” Kiernan demanded of Merrick. “Do you agree that love should be a prerequisite to marriage?”
Merrick gave him an honest answer. “No.”
His brusque response caused another momentary silence to descend, until it was broken by Kiernan. “Where is Lady Constance?”
“I don’t know,” the lord of Tregellas replied.
Kiernan got to his feet. “Then if you’ll excuse me, I’ll see if I can find her. We’re friends of long acquaintance and I should wish her joy on her marriage after all these years of waiting.”
As Henry and Ranulf exchanged glances, Merrick’s lips curved up in what was a sort of smile. “You have my leave to go.”
Henry and Ranulf realized the gleam in his eyes did not bode well, but Kiernan was too ignorant of his enemy to notice, or too upset about Constance’s marriage to care even if he did.
“Thank you, my lord,” the young man said before he bowed and strode out of the hall.
“You’ll stay until the wedding?” Merrick asked Sir Jowan as the heavy door closed behind his son. “I should get to know my neighbors.”
“We’d be delighted to stay, except that we brought nothing with us,” Sir Jowan replied, a trifle uneasily. “To speak truth, my lord, we hadn’t expected such a kind invitation.”
“Servants can be sent to bring what you require from home.”
Sir Jowan looked as if he wasn’t sure he should be pleased or wary, then decided to be pleased. “We’ll stay, my lord, and gladly.”
“CONSTANCE!”
Startled and annoyed, Constance shoved back her embroidery frame and quickly got to her feet. Knowingthat the priest was visiting some of the poor and sick in the village, she’d brought her embroidery to the small chapel after she heard Sir Jowan and his son were at the outermost gate. She’d been determined to avoid Kiernan and his sighs and lovesick looks until she was forced into his company at the evening meal.
“What are you doing here?” she demanded as he hurried forward. “You must go at once!”
“I had to speak to you. Nobody saw me. I made sure of it.”
“You mustn’t stay. If you’re caught here—”
“I love you!” he cried, rushing toward her as if he would embrace her.
She pushed the frame so that it was between them. This wasn’t love. This was madness, or the act of an upset, selfish boy. A man who loved her wouldn’t put her, and her reputation, at risk by seeking her out when she was already betrothed to another, and alone.
“If you truly care for me, you’ll go at once,” she said. “What would Lord Merrick make of this? Or my uncle? They’ll think I invited you here.”
Kiernan regarded her with bright-eyed hope. “What if they did? We would have to marry, that’s all.”
“I don’t want to be forced to marry anyone, and I’d prefer not to have my honor besmirched,” she forcefully replied. “And you may be lucky to escape with your life if Merrick finds you here.”
“I don’t care!”
“I do! And have you no thought of what might happen to me? Scandal or not, Merrick might still marry me, but always believe me capable of deception. What kind of life would I lead then?”
“You could refuse him.” Kiernan took hold of the frame and pushed it aside. “Why haven’t you refused him? You mustn’t feel bound by a contract made when you were a child and had no voice to protest.”
