Page 96 of The Unwilling Bride
Merrick looked Henry in the eye. “I might have,” he admitted. He put his shoulder under his friend’s arm. “May God forgive me.”
Henry leaned on him heavily. “And Constance?”
“Well. She came here with Ranulf.”
“Thank God for that. I truly tried to help her, Merrick.”
“I know,” Merrick replied. “Don’t talk anymore. Brother Paul, a physician, has come from the monastery with Constance and he can tend to you. He’s very skilled.”
“Good. I think you might have broken a rib or two.”
“I’m so sorry, Henry. Please be quiet and save your strength.”
Henry grinned as they started up the steps and out of the dungeon. “I’ll forgive you as soon as you get me some wine.”
ALTHOUGH SHE WAS IN BED IN A finely appointed chamber, Constance wasn’t asleep. Brother Paul had insisted she rest, and the earl had made it very clear by his peeved expression that he really didn’t want her in the hall as they discussed the treachery of her uncle and Lord Algernon.
Perhaps he didn’t like it when the queen insisted on being part of her husband’s political discussions, either.
In truth, she was glad to get away. It was nerve-racking being near Merrick, yet unable to speak to him privately.
What lie had he told her, what could he have done, that could make such a man sound so remorseful, so anguished? Her mind conjured a host of answers, each more terrible than the next.
A knock sounded on the door, which creaked open a little. “My lady?”
God help her, Kiernan. Was he always going to be a thorn in her side, appearing when she least wanted to see him?
She would feign sleep. She closed her eyes and took deep, slow breaths. She heard the door begin to close….
“What are you doing outside my bedchamber?” Merrick demanded, his voice a little muffled because he, too, was in the corridor.
“I came to see Lady Constance,” Kiernan replied, sounding tense but determined. “Will she be all right?”
“Brother Paul believes she will soon be completely recovered. So now you may go.”
“I was at the hall moot—”
“I know. I saw you there.”
Kiernan drew in his breath sharply. “So help me, my lord, if you’ve taken a mistress—”
Constance threw back the covers and started to get up. Kiernan had caused her a great deal of trouble, but for the sake of their past friendship, she would help him if she must.
“I have not taken a mistress. I am too content with my wife to crave another.”
She froze near the door and held her breath to listen.
“It was Annice’s decision not to marry the smith’s son,” her husband explained.
“But Constance looked so—”
“Constance knows why I made that decision. More than that, I will not say.”
“If you ever hurt her, my lord—”
“I would rather die than cause her pain.” Merrick’s voice grew accusing. “What about you, Kiernan? Are you a spiteful man? Would you destroy a mill to ease your wounded pride, no matter who might suffer?”
“No, by God, I wouldn’t!” Kiernan cried, and if ever a man sounded truly aghast at an accusation…
