Chapter 12 #2
He silently recorded her words. “Aye?” he breathed.
She let out a soundless sigh and finished the verse. “I pray ye spare my poor tormented soul.” She kicked idly at the barrel nearest the door, mumbling, “That should do it.”
He didn’t reply until he’d penned the final word. “Good,” he murmured. “If this doesn’t convince her, nothing will.”
Forcing a shaky smile to her face, she put away her strained emotions. Just before she could turn toward him, she heard a scuffle of retreat beyond the door. Someone had been there.
Behind her, Gellir came to his feet. “Was that…”
“Shite,” she whispered, trying to recall every incriminating word she’d said.
“Do you think they heard—”
“Nay.”
She said it as much to convince herself as Gellir. If someone had been listening, they probably couldn’t make out her words through the door. Or if they heard her words, they wouldn’t recognize her voice. Or if they knew it was Merraid, they’d never guess who she was addressing.
At least, that was her hope.
“Still,” she said, turning to him, “we should be cautious. I’ll leave first.”
“I’ll wait till the parchment dries.”
“Good.” She stepped toward the door and put a hand on the latch.
“And Merraid?”
She hesitated.
“Thank you,” he said. “You’ve said what I could not.”
She answered around the lump in her throat. “Let’s hope it works.”
Merraid arrived later to bring Carenza her supper. The lady was sitting up in bed, the missive clutched to her breast.
“Merraid, you’re here.” The poor woman still looked pale and sickly. A feeble smile graced her face.
“I’ve brought your supper.” She approached with the tray, giving the lady a furtive glance.
Would she mention the missive? Had she read it? Did she hate it? Love it?
“Och dear, more eels?” Carenza wrinkled her nose. “I fear I’ve eaten my fill o’ them. I don’t think I could take another bite.”
Merraid bit the inside of her cheek. Poor Gellir had spent all morn, freezing his arse in the pond, to catch the vile things. “Shall I bring ye somethin’ else, m’lady?”
“In a moment. Just put the tray here,” she said, indicating the bedside table. “I’ve received a missive from Sir Gellir. And ’tis…” She let out a sigh. “Let me read it to ye.”
Merraid set the tray down. Was that a sigh of disgust or a sigh of pleasure? It was hard to tell.
But as she read the verse aloud, it was clear the lady understood the passion with which Merraid had written it.
It broke Merraid’s heart to hear her words from another’s lips.
But the sentiment had exactly the intended effect.
Carenza’s fears regarding Gellir had melted away. Her heart had softened toward him.
“Lovely,” the lady said, tears in her voice. “Just lovely.”
“I told ye he was a good man,” Merraid choked out. She picked up the tray. She needed to leave before tears started in her own eyes.
“He is, isn’t he?” To Merraid’s surprise, Carenza’s voice was now full of misery. “He’s too good.”
“Too good, m’lady?”
“Any man who can express such tenderness, such devotion…” She shook her head. “He deserves far better than me.”
Merraid’s eyes widened. “Better than…” If Carenza were any other lady, Merraid would suspect her of fishing for compliments. But the beautiful young woman seemed to be truly blind to her own charms. Merraid set the tray back down. It was time for a bit of harsh truth.
“Hear me well, m’lady. O’er the last sennight, more than a dozen perfectly qualified brides have been presented to Sir Gellir.
To my reckonin’, every one has fallen short.
But ye… Ye’re perfect. Bonnie. Sweet. Kind.
Soft-spoken. Well-mannered. He could ask for no one better suited to be his wife.
” Her voice caught on the last words. She hoped Carenza didn’t notice.
“Generous praise indeed, Merraid, and I thank ye,” she said, her voice breaking in despair, “but I told ye my heart belongs to another.”
“In time, I’m certain ye’ll have a change o’ heart. Meanwhile, ye’ve done the noble thing. Ye’ve promised to marry him. Ye’ve vowed to be faithful and true. ’Tis good enough. And once ye’re properly wed…once ye give him a bairn…”
The lady choked out a sob.
“Och, there now,” Merraid cooed in sympathy, taking the lady’s hand and clasping it in her own. “Ye’ve naught to fret about.”
But the lady continued to weep until Merraid’s pity slowly grew into irritation. How could the woman be anything but delighted at the prospect of wedding a man like Gellir?
“I’ll bring ye a posset o’ warm milk, aye?” She gave Carenza’s hand a farewell pat. “I’m sure once ye’re past this sickness, the world will seem a rosier place.” She added pointedly, “And ye’ll see what a lucky lass ye are.”
She returned the eels to the kitchen and fetched a posset from the cook. But she summoned Swannoc to take the drink to Carenza. She didn’t think she could face the distraught lady again this eve. Not while her own misery tore at her heart.
Instead, she escaped to the one place she could express her frustration.
A half hour with her sword in her hand and a new straw-stuffed dummy in need of hacking gave her the satisfaction she sought.
Exhausted, she sheathed and left through the practice field gate. The sky had grown dark. So dark she didn’t notice the figure watching her from the shadows of the stable.
When he stepped out, she went swiftly for her weapon. Only a hand seizing her wrist stopped her from drawing the blade.
“Merraid.”
“Gellir?”
She couldn’t see his face. But she let out a relieved breath and released her grip on her weapon.
He did not release his grip on her wrist. Her flesh tingled where he touched her.
“I’ve been looking all over for you.”
“Ye have?” There was a foolish fluttering in her breast.
“Aye,” he said. “How did it go? Did she get the missive?”
She? Of course. He wanted to know about Carenza. Disappointed, Merraid pulled her arm out of his grasp. “Aye. She was…pleased.”
“Pleased. That’s good, aye? Pleased?”
“Aye.”
“So she’s ready to meet with me?”
Merraid hesitated. “She’s still feelin’ poorly.”
“You brought her the eels?”
She didn’t want to tell him Carenza had refused the eels. “Mm-hmm.”
He sighed in impatience. “How much longer do you think—”
“I think we should write another missive,” she blurted out.
Merraid could have bitten her tongue. Why had she said that? It was pure torture. Spilling out her emotions. Reciting vulnerable words of devotion. Knowing they’d be delivered to another. Another who may as easily cry as coo over the sentiments.
“All right,” he agreed, more readily than she expected. “The armory is empty. I’ll fetch a quill and parchment and meet you there.”
Now? She hadn’t meant now. But she supposed now was as good a time as any. After all, his wedding date was not so far away. And there was still work to be done. Just because Merraid had fallen instantly in love with Gellir didn’t mean Carenza would.
“Fine.”
She made her way to the armory and hung up her sword. She lit a candle on the flame of one of the sconces. Then she placed it on a bench he could use for a makeshift table.
While she waited, Merraid racked her brain for inspiration. Should Gellir flatter Carenza with more praise? Should he boast about his own prowess and virility? Should he paint a picture of her future as his wife? What words would change her heart?
She let out a heavy breath, closing her eyes and muttering, “Think, think, think.”
She opened her eyes as Gellir swept into the armory. The candlelight flickered across his face. Illuminating his coal-black hair. His strong, swarthy jaw. His noble nose. His grim, delicious mouth. His creased brow. His shining, silvery eyes.
And she was instantly inspired.