Page 99 of The Unwilling Bride
“Instead they killed everyone except you.”
“Everyone but me.” He took another deep, shuddering breath. “When I understood their mistake, I was afraid to tell the truth. What if Sir Leonard thought I’d lied on purpose? What if they believed I’d been trying to trick them? I was so frightened, I didn’t know what else to do, except become Merrick and pray that Lord William wouldn’t come. If he did, I’d try to escape, somehow.”
“But he didn’t.”
“No. When I realized he wasn’t going to, I felt a little safer—but never completely.”
“Is that why you didn’t speak for so long after the attack?”
He nodded. “I didn’t understand the Norman tongue, so I didn’t dare talk until I learned enough to get by, and when I thought I could sound like a Norman nobleman’s son. It was weeks before I ventured even one word, and then I was afraid to say much.”
No wonder he was so reticent, even now.
“Later I couldn’t risk going home in case my ruse was discovered, although I sorely missed my poor mother, and Peder, who was like a father to me. I knew they would be worried about me, wondering what had happened. If only I could have found a way to tell them.”
He bowed his head. “When you told me my mother had killed herself believing I was dead…” His voice dropped to a tortured whisper. “Now she suffers in eternal torment because of my lie.”
Constance rose and put her arms around him and held him close. “We will have prayers and masses said for her,” she promised. “I’m sure God will understand. She was as good as murdered by the men who stole her son and made her believe that he was dead.”
Merrick gripped Constance tightly, as if he were falling and she the rope to save him.
“You are too good for me, Constance. Far, far too good,” he murmured before he pulled away and walked to the delicately arched window.
When he faced her again, he cleared his throat and his voice was stronger, firmer, when he spoke. “I had decided before I returned to Tregellas that I would break the betrothal and set you free. It was no more than you deserved. But I discovered I had not the strength. I did remember you sitting in a hay field—that was no lie—and when I found a woman the same and yet, oh, so different, I could not give you up. But never, ever was I so tempted to reveal my secret as when I was with you inthe first days of our marriage, and never was I more ashamed of my great lie.
“Yet what would become of us, of me, if I told you? I feared you would hate me for deceiving you. So rather than reveal my secret, I tried to keep my distance, and even to push you away before I told you what I’d done.”
He looked at her with bleak, pleading eyes. “In spite of all my resolve, I was too weak to stay away from you. Even after we quarreled, I simply couldn’t resist the need to be with you. To touch you. Kiss you. Caress you. To show you how I truly felt, no matter how I behaved toward you.
“But I love you, Constance. I would have done anything for you—except tell you the truth, because it meant I might lose you. I was wrong to deceive you, and, worse, my actions put you in danger. As Merrick’s wife, you were in harm’s way. If you’d not been Merrick’s wife, you would have been safe.”
He took hold of her hands and gazed at her with all the intensity of his passionate nature. “You must be safe, Constance, and you should be free. You were married to a base pretender under a false pretext, and no law will uphold our deceitful union.”
Her heart swelled with sympathy. With compassion. With love. “Do you truly love me?” she asked softly.
He looked down at their clasped hands. “I’ve loved you since I was ten years old, and I’ll love you until the day I die.”
“What will become of you if the truth becomes known?”
He shrugged.
This air of defeat was at least as distressing as his revelation. Where was the strong, decisive warrior? She must get him back. “Who do you suggest I marry, my lord?”
He dropped her hands and stepped back as if she’d hit him. “What?”
“Surely if you’re so eager to be rid of me, you must have some idea who you think will make a good husband for me. Henry, perhaps, although he has no land? I would suggest Ranulf…except his position is the same. Sir Jowan? Or would you have me wed one of the queen’s French relatives, who knows nothing of this land or Tregellas? Because if I’m no longer married to you, the king will probably marry me off to a member of his wife’s family. A fine fate,” she said grimly, “and after you’ve spoiled me for another man by making me love you so much, my heart will surely shrivel and die if you leave me.”
As his wife’s smile lit her features and her brilliant blue eyes shone, the mighty lord of Tregellas’s face flushed and he stammered, “That’s not…I…you still love me?”
“Yes, I still love you, with all my heart.” She took his hand and led him to the bed, sitting upon it and pulling him down beside her. “But there’s no need to give up Tregellas, my beloved lord, because whether you’re Merrick or Bredon, it’s rightfully yours as Lord William’s only surviving son. Didn’t you read your father’s will? Your father said that if he died without legal issue and his illegitimate son by Tamsyn was found alive, he was to inherit Tregellas.”
Merrick—Bredon—stared at her with dumbstruck disbelief. “Algernon said my father never made a will.”
“He lied, my love, blatantly lied, and had I known of this sooner, I would have realized he was not to be trusted.”
Although she could easily believe Algernon had lied to Merrick, another explanation came to her. “Or perhaps he truly didn’t know,” she mused aloud. “He was in York when your father had it written, and it could be your father never told his brother because he hated him. Maybe he thought if Algernon knew about the will and its contents, he’d try to steal or destroy it.”
“Maybe he already has,” Merrick suggested, as if he didn’t dare to hope.
