Page 69 of The Unwilling Bride
“Did Annice look like an eager, happy woman?” Merrick’s expression grew grimmer still. “I can tell when somebody is trying to hide something, and she was not acting the joyful, anxious bride. She never looked at Eric, never raised her eyes.”
She thought of Annice in the yard. Was what she’d assumed Annice’s becoming modesty really something else? Yet surely his decision was based on more than that. “What did she say to you?”
“That is between Annice and me.”
His words were like a slap in the face and hurt worse. “You won’t even tell your wife?”
“Annice asked me to keep her reason secret. I gave her my word that I would.”
If he thought that would satisfy her, he was wrong. “If no more explanation is forthcoming, my lord,” she said, her voice firm and completely under control, “the people will think you want Annice for yourself. Even if your father had never been lord here, plenty of other Norman noblemen have taken women, regardless of betrothal or marriage or their will. How else could it look when you stand whispering with her in front of everybody and Annice runs away in tears? What else are we to believe but that there’s something more between you?”
Merrick’s cheeks flushed. “In spite of what I told youabout honoring vows and the way I’ve treated you, in spite of everything I’ve done, you think I could be such a lying, lustful hypocrite? That I would come between two people who truly wish to wed?”
His angry words tore at her heart and made her feel guilty for accusing him, and yet…“That’s how it looks, my lord.”
His eyes flared with rage and he made no effort to hide it. “Clearly I was a fool to think I could ever earn the trust and respect of my people, or my wife. I will forever only be the son of Wicked William, no matter what I do.” He closed on her and his voice rose in anger. “Or are you glad to be able to accuse me because of a secret you bear?”
“What?”
“I saw Kiernan lurking in the alley like a lovesick boy.”
“If he came here to see me, he is a lovesick boy—and no more to me than that! I’m an honorable woman—”
“And I’m an honorable man,” he retorted, “yet apparently you don’t believe I am. Why should I believe you?”
She was blameless in this, and sorry if she’d accused him falsely, but she wouldn’t abase herself before him, or any man. The inner armor that had protected her for so long, that had enabled her to withstand Lord William’s rages, that she thought she would no longer need, returned—hard and cold and as strong as the man facing her. “Because I give you my word.”
“So although my word isn’t good enough, yours is?”
“If I’ve misjudged you, I’m sorry, but you’ll get nomore apology from me,” she declared. “I vowed years ago that no man would make me beg for mercy, so if you think I’m going to grovel before you and plead for forgiveness, you’re mistaken. But if I discover you’ve been unfaithful, then you’ll have broken our marriage vows, and I’ll consider myself no longer bound by them. In the meantime, I’ll do my duty, as I have always done, including in our bed.”
Having made her feelings plain, Constance started for the door.
“For God’s sake, she begged me to refuse!” Merrick cried.
Shocked as much by his tone as his desperate words, Constance hesitated, then turned back to see Merrick throw himself into his chair. His elbows on the table, he cradled his head in his hands and didn’t meet her questioning gaze. “She found out that he’d dallied with another woman in Truro while swearing to love and be faithful only to her. When she told him what she’d learned and that she wouldn’t marry him, he got angry. He said he wasn’t going to let her spurn and embarrass him.”
Merrick’s fingers curled into fists as he raised tempestuous eyes to glare at her. “So he forced himself upon her. He raped her—and he still thought she would want to be his wife. She doesn’t, but full of shame, she saw no other choice.”
Gasping for breath, Constance felt for the nearest chair and sat heavily, while Merrick shoved back his chair and got to his feet. He started to pace like an anxious soldier on duty who expects to be attacked at any moment. “I told her the shame was his, not hers. I offered to take Eric into custody and have him brought before the king’s justice on a charge of rape, but she wouldn’t hear of it. In spite of what I said, she blames herself and begged me not to tell anyone what happened.” Merrick halted and regarded Constance with a steadfast, determined expression. “He probably thinks he won’t be punished because she won’t accuse him openly.” He struck his open palm with his fist. “But by God, as I live, one day he’ll pay.”
Appalled at Eric’s act, full of pity for Annice and regret for her accusations, Constance rose and went toward her husband. “Merrick, I’m so—”
He held her off with an outstretched hand. “Sorry?” he demanded. “Sorry you didn’t have faith in me? Sorry you so easily believed the worst of me? Sorry you made me break my word and tell you what Annice begged me to keep secret?”
The accusing voice, the expression of rage…
She’d seen it before, lived it before. Never again would she stand helpless and afraid facing a lord of Tregellas. “I told you, Merrick, that even if I’m sorry, I won’t grovel.”
Merrick pointed imperiously at the door. “Go.”
With her head held high, Constance walked out of the chamber and slammed the door behind her.
In the next moment she heard another sound she remembered all too well. Merrick had thrown a goblet against the wall.
MERRICK STOOD BY THE ARCHED window of the solar, his back to the door, staring unseeing into the courtyard.
He was guilty of many things, yet never had he wanted Annice—or any other woman—as he’d wanted Constance. Never would he betray Constance for any other woman. He’d thought she knew that and believed him. Trusted him. Yet in spite of all her apparently sincere words of love, despite marrying him, she still didn’t trust him.
