The Unwilling Bride. Margaret Moore

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      “Good people of Tregellas,” Merrick called out, his gruff, strong voice carrying easily in the warm spring air, “it is my honor today to choose the Queen of the May. After consulting with Lady Constance, I have made my decision. This year, your queen shall be Annice, the chandler’s daughter.”

      A cacophony of cheers and happy murmurings went up from the gathering, enabling Constance to relax a little. Her choice had been as well received as she’d hoped.

      Merrick, too, seemed pleased as he looked at Constance and squeezed her hand. Given what holding her hand might signify, she should be annoyed. But she wasn’t, until she wondered if that firm grasp signified possession, too.

      Looking both wary and proud enough to burst his tunic lacings, Eric led a blushing Annice to the dais. When they arrived, Merrick gravely held out a plain silver ring as her prize—something Constance hadn’t expected. She wasn’t sure what to make of the gift as Annice hesitantly reached for it, her big green eyes staring up into Merrick’s dark brown ones.

      “Go ahead, my girl,” Henry said jovially. “He won’t bite—unless you want him to.”

      Appalled, Constance gasped. Annice turned pale and Eric glared, while Merrick glowered at his friend.

      Henry smiled sheepishly. “Forgive me. I, um, forgot that I’m, um…”

      “A fool?” Merrick snapped. He quickly turned back and addressed the young woman. “Don’t be afraid, Annice,” he said, his deep voice appeasing. “Your virtue is safe from me and—” he darted another sharp glance at Henry “—my men.”

      He raised his voice. “I would have all in Tregellas know that your women have nothing to fear from me. As your overlord, their honor is mine to protect, not destroy. If any of my men ever harm you or your wives or children, you are to come and tell me, without fear that further trouble will befall you. As long as you obey the law, I promise to do my utmost to fulfill my duty to you, as I hope you will fulfill yours to me.”

      He again took hold of Constance’s hand. “With my gentle lady wife to guide me, I hope to rule you well, with justice and clemency, as my father did not.”

      As the assembly burst out cheering, Constance pulled her hand from his. He spoke as if she’d consented, or as if his offer of freedom had been bogus all along.

      Seething with anger and indignation, she cursed herself for a weak-willed, lust-addled fool. Just because his touch and his kisses aroused her desire, she mustn’t forget what she feared—that he would prove to be a second version of his hated father.

      Merrick turned to Henry, who was whispering something to Beatrice that made her giggle.

      “I would speak with you, Henry,” he said in a tone that, even in the midst of her own concerns, made Constance shiver.

      Henry, however, merely rolled his eyes. “God’s wounds, Merrick, it was a slip of the tongue.”

      “So you said. Will you never learn to think before you speak? Your stupid jest could have cost me dear.”

      “Well, obviously it didn’t,” Henry said, nodding at the crowd.

      Several villagers clustered around Annice and Eric, admiring her ring. Two girls were trying to get a circlet of flowers to stay on the queen’s glossy tresses, laughing as it fell first to one side, then another. Others had already retired to the alehouse and tavern, where the innkeeper had set up tables and benches outside so his customers could observe the entertainers. Several couples were beginning a round dance near the Maypole, and children were anxiously and eagerly gathered there, waiting for that part of the festivities to begin. Many were already eating sweetmeats and other treats, to judge by the remainders around their mouths.

      Henry turned to Beatrice and Constance for support. “It wasn’t so terrible, was it?”

      Not unexpectedly, Beatrice smiled and shook her head. Constance, however, was not so inclined to agree. “The women here have had good cause to fear their overlord in the past. Your jest might have made them think their days of dread were not yet over.”

      “I must have these people’s trust, Henry,” Merrick said. “I can’t allow anyone to undermine it.”

      “Of course I understand that—”

      “No, I don’t think you do, or the magnitude of the mistrust and hatred I have to overcome here if I’m to rule and my family be safe.”

      “He’s right, you know,” Ranulf remarked before Henry could reply. “It wouldn’t be the first time a war got started over a few ill-chosen words.”

      “Then maybe I ought to leave,” Henry said with obvious annoyance.

      “Oh, surely not!” Beatrice cried, looking beseechingly from Constance to Merrick. “He didn’t mean any harm, my lord, and you’ve been such friends in the past, it would be terrible to break it off over such a little thing.” She gestured toward the green. “See? Nothing’s amiss. Everyone seems happy and content. Surely as long as Henry behaves honorably—which I’m certain he will—there’s no cause to banish him. Sir Henry will be more careful in the future, won’t you, Sir Henry?”

      A swift glance at Lord Carrell told Constance her uncle was also suspicious of Beatrice’s defense of the roguish and handsome young knight.

      “Forgive me, my lord,” Henry said with genial remorse. “I promise I’ll be as serious as a monk after a two-day fast from here on.”

      “Then you may stay—provided you curb your tongue.”

      Henry put his hand on his heart and bowed. “If I ever speak in a way that leads to trouble for you, you may cut it out.”

      “I’ll remember that.”

      Henry reddened, then smiled, although his eyes were not so merry.

      Ranulf clapped a hand on Henry’s shoulder. “Let’s go get some ale and watch the dancers, my swift-tongued friend.”

      “Come, Beatrice,” Lord Carrell ordered as the two knights walked away.

      Whatever Beatrice was thinking, she meekly followed her father from the dais. Lord Algernon bowed and hurried after them, leaving Constance alone with Merrick.

      “I want to meet Peder,” he announced, to both her surprise and chagrin. She’d been hoping to abandon him.

      “I don’t see him in the crowd, my lord,” she replied.

      Merrick nodded toward the smithy. “Isn’t that Peder sitting outside the blacksmith’s?”

      Since Merrick was, unfortunately, right, Constance had to agree. “Yes, but I don’t think you need me to—”

      “I would prefer it.”

      His words didn’t offer the possibility of refusal, so she silently led him toward the smithy, making easy progress because anyone who was in their path quickly got out of it.

      Peder, whose eyesight was remarkably good for a man of his years, soon realized they were headed toward him, yet he made no move to stand until they СКАЧАТЬ