Page 40 of The Unwilling Bride
Merrick couldn’t see that reiterating his opinion would make much difference. Nor did he appreciate Ranulf’s unwelcome advice. The quarrel with Constance had not been his fault. He was right to do what he must to protect Tregellas, and those who lived here.
Yet even as his temper flared again, he tried to keep from betraying his annoyance in either his manner, his expression or his voice. “Are you offering me advice about women? I thought that was Henry’s province.”
Ranulf colored and his mask of placid neutrality slipped a little. “I’m trying to help.”
“Good, because I have a request to make of you,” Merrick replied, gladly moving the discussion away from Constance.
Ranulf raised an inquisitive brow. “This should be…interesting. I don’t recall you ever asking a favor of me before.”
No, he hadn’t, because like Ranulf and Henry, he had his pride. But there was no one else of whom he could make this request, except Henry. While Henry was a loyal and amusing friend, and Merrick trusted him as much as he did Ranulf, Ranulf would be the better choice. “Since Talek is leaving, I require a new garrison commander. I would like you to take that place.”
Ranulf flushed, and Merrick knew it wasn’t from modesty. “I’m not a soldier or hireling,” his friend frostily replied.
“I meant no disrespect,” Merrick said. Nor had he, but he had need of his friend’s help now, and he wasn’t too proud to ask for it. “Until I can decide who among the soldiers here deserves that responsibility, I need someone I can trust in that position.”
“I see,” Ranulf replied noncommittally.
“If you’d rather not, so be it, of course.”
Merrick watched Ranulf as he waited for his friend to answer, hoping Ranulf would comprehend the situation better than Constance had.
After what seemed a very long time, Ranulf gave him a sardonic smile and shrugged. “Very well, my friend. I’ll act as your garrison commander—but only until you find another, and I hope that will be soon.”
Merrick subdued a sigh of relief, and so pleased washe, he came around the table and clapped his hand on his friend’s shoulder in a rare gesture of camaraderie. “Thank you, Ranulf. I won’t forget this.”
“Brothers to death,” Ranulf gravely replied.
“Brothers to death,” Merrick repeated.
“So, my lord, what orders do you have for me?”
“I’ll tell the men myself of my decision about Talek and that you’re taking his place. I’ll leave it to you to tell Henry.”
“As you wish, my lord. Is there anything more?”
“No.”
“Then I’m free to leave?”
“Yes, Ranulf, of course, if there’s nothing more you think we need to discuss.”
“No, my lord, there isn’t,” Ranulf replied. He strolled to the door with his usual easy, athletic stride, showing no sign that he was offended, yet Merrick realized he’d upset his friend. He’d known Ranulf too long to be fooled by his air of dispassionate detachment.
After he was gone, Merrick threw himself into his chair and bit back an oath. Why could no one else see the necessity of his decisions? Why did they think he was being unreasonable? Someone had tried to kill the heir of Tregellas before and they might try again. If they succeeded, what fate might then befall his wife, his friends and everyone else here?
It was his duty to protect them all, and by God, he would—whether anyone else approved of his methods or not.
BACK AND FORTH CONSTANCE strode in the garden, too agitated to sit, her mind full of tumultuous thoughts about everything that had just happened, with one exception: she refused to examine the fear that had arisen, strong and searing, when she saw the blood dripping from Merrick’s arm.
Why had he not listened to her this time, as he had about Annice? Was that to be his way—to agree in some things, but not all, and to refuse to listen to reason when he believed he was right?
But she had lived here for years; she knew these people as he did not. Merrick was an intelligent man—why could he not see this and pay heed to her opinion? Why was he so certain Talek posed a threat?
She thought of his sire’s fears, and the extreme precautions he’d taken for his own protection. There was one important difference, though. Lord William had never once mentioned any concern for the safety of anyone except himself, even when his son lay wounded far away in the north.
“My lady?”
God help her, she didn’t want to be bothered with Henry now.
