Page 89 of The Unwilling Bride
“Merrick sent word that our cortege was attacked?”
“No. Henry sent word it was about to be.”
She sat up straighter. “Henry came out of nowhere and grabbed my horse. He tried to help me get away.”
“Perhaps this can wait until another time, Sir Ranulf,” Brother Paul suggested. “The lady is still not well—”
“I’m well enough,” Constance insisted. She turned her full attention back to Ranulf, her aching head forgotten. “Henry knew about the attack?”
“Yes, but I gather his rescue wasn’t completely successful, or he would be here, too.”
“I don’t know what happened after I fell.” Shefrowned, struggling to remember the first time she’d come to consciousness. “Merrick was here. He said…”
He’d said he’d lied. He’d said he had no right to marry her. “I tried to tell him Henry was there, but I couldn’t.”
“You were seriously hurt, my lady,” Brother Paul said softly. “You need to rest.”
“I appreciate your concern, good brother, and I’m grateful for your help, but I’m sure you can understand that I must know what happened,” she said before again addressing Ranulf. “Where’s Henry now?”
“I don’t know. I came here as soon as I got his message. He said you would be here, waiting for me.”
“Why did he not send a warning to Merrick? Why to you?”
“He feared that Merrick wouldn’t believe him.”
“And you would?”
“I have no reason not to, and I didn’t quarrel with Merrick. Henry planned to save you during the attack and bring you here, where I would find you. Later, I was to go to Merrick and tell him what Henry had learned. Henry thought Merrick would be more inclined to believe him after the attack.”
“What about Merrick? What if he’d been hurt or even killed?”
Ranulf made a little smile. “Having seen Merrick fight, Henry didn’t think that likely.”
Constance wouldn’t have shared that confidence, although it seemed Henry and Ranulf were right. Merrick hadn’t been killed. “What had Henry learned?”
Ranulf started to rise. “The details can wait until you’re feeling better.”
She put her hand on Ranulf’s arm. “I want to know everything now.”
Ranulf glanced at Brother Paul.
“Even if you go,” Constance threatened, “I won’t rest for wondering what you were going to say.” She softened her tone and her expression. “Please stay, Ranulf.” She looked beseechingly at the monk. “Brother Paul, have mercy and let him.”
“Very well,” the physician reluctantly agreed. “But if you feel tired or dizzy or faint, he must go.”
“I give you my word that he will,” she promised.
“Perhaps, my lady,” Ranulf said with a significant look, “it would be better to keep this conversation between the two of us, as it touches on serious political matters.”
“I think that would be wise,” Constance agreed, even as she wondered what exactly he meant by serious political matters. “If you don’t mind, Brother Paul? You may leave the door open and watch from the corridor. Ranulf will summon you if I feel sick or faint.”
Her words might have been conciliatory, but her tone was not. Recognizing the commands for what they were, or perhaps not wishing to become involved in any political troubles, Brother Paul rose and quietly departed the chamber, leaving the door ajar.
“Now then, Ranulf, tell me all,” Constance said with both anxiety and impatience.
“Henry’s message said that he had discovered a conspiracy.”
“Against the king? Or the earl of Cornwall?”
