Читать книгу Fire Song - Catherine Archer - Страница 9

Roland felt the muscles in his jaw flex with nearpainful intensity as he worked to control his anger. How dare the defiant minx speak so to him after what she had done? And did she actually expect him to believe her extremely suspect assurances that her father had not known?

If the outraged honor in her jade-green eyes was any indication, that was exactly what she did expect.

His gaze raked her from the top of her tousled red head to the soles of her incredibly small bare feet. How could he have been foolish enough to believe her to be Celeste Chalmers? She was tiny and delicate where her sister was taller and lithe. His gaze was caught momentarily as he took in the tangle of scarlet curls that tumbled about her. When she turned her back to him and began to pace the oaken floor in agitation, still clutching the bedcover to her bosom, he saw that the flame cascade reached to her knees in back.

He was suddenly struck by an image of that hair draped across his chest as she kissed him with all the fervor of an experienced woman. But he reminded himself that she had not been. There was no mistaking the fact that he and he alone had breached the barrier of her womanhood. Even as he looked at her, the evidence of this stained the edge of the covering she used to shield herself from him.

Why? Why, if her father had not been trying to outwit him in some way, had they done this thing? He would soon be past caring how much rage showed in his voice, if he did not receive an explanation. “If you did not do this at your father’s urging, why have you done it…Meredyth?” Her name felt somewhat strange to his lips, though he had to admit, however reluctantly, that he liked the soft hard sound of it.

He brushed the thought aside. The woman’s name was of no consequence, nor were the memories of how she had returned his passion with an enthusiasm that had surprised and pleased him. Traces of an extremely unpleasant supposition were forming in his mind. Could it be perhaps that Hugh Penacre had thought to somehow cheat him of the heavy dower that had come with his eldest daughter?

Roland was determined that this was not going to happen. He glared at the woman before him through narrowed eyes as he tried not to see that she was quite beautiful, with her cheeks flushed and her eyes bright with animosity. Certainly, he admitted, not in the way of her sister, but in a way all her own. She reminded him of an angry ginger kitten, all eyes and flashing claws.

She tapped one tiny bare foot as she said, “I cannot tell you the answer to that question. Suffice it to say that the secret is not mine to reveal. You must simply trust that I am telling you the truth.”

He threw up his hands in disbelief at her continued pose of outraged dignity. “Again you ask me to believe you, woman. You who have married me under false pretenses.”

He knew his accusation was louder than he had meant it to be, but Roland was losing his temper with this audacious spitfire. And this did not please him. He prided himself on being a man who could remain in control in any situation, no matter how difficult. He did not allow passion to guide him into doing or saying anything he would be sorry for.

He would not make his father’s mistakes.

Yet with this woman he had already lost that tight hold on his emotions. What would happen if they ended in living together? Which, he realized, was what might well happen. He had bedded her.

By trickery he reminded himself. Again he thought of those dower lands.

Yet before he could speak of his suspicions, he was distracted by the movement of the chamber door as it slid open by the merest of inches. In raced a small hairy object that Roland suspected was a dog, pushing the portal wide as it came. The dog immediately ran to Meredyth Chalmers’s feet. After one quick sniff of the woman, it turned and scurried toward Roland, yapping in an extremely high-pitched way that made him want to choke the life from it.

At the sound of a gasp, his frowning gaze went to the plump, dark-haired young woman who stood in the doorway, her eyes growing round with shock as she looked from Roland to Meredyth. The woman, who was obviously a maid if her rough spun brown gown and simple leather boots were any indication, put her hand to her cheek. “Lady Meredyth? I…I could not fathom why Sweeting was hovering about my lady’s doorway. But now I see it was you he…” She focused for a long moment on Roland, before turning back to Meredyth. “Forgive me, Lady Meredyth…I…” She halted, obviously at a loss for words.

Roland looked to Meredyth Chalmers as she came forward and took the still yapping dog from beneath his feet. When she bent forward, Roland saw the way the maid’s gaze focused on the bloodstained sheet He met her troubled eyes with his own noncommittal ones.

Meredyth had not taken note of this, for she was occupied in fussing with that ridiculous excuse for a dog, which had not ceased its yapping. “There is no need to apologize, Agnes. You obviously expected Celeste to be here. Clearly you would not be able to tell me where she is then.”

The woman could no longer withhold her understandable curiosity. “No, my lady, I fear I cannot. And yes, I am surprised at seeing you here. I thought Lady Celeste…” Her brows arched in confusion. “Was not Lady Celeste to marry my lord Kirkland?”

Meredyth scowled, biting her lip. “Uh…aye, but there has been a change of plans.”

Roland could not restrain a grunt as he interjected, his voice rife with sarcasm, “Oh, yes, a change of plans indeed.”

Meredyth’s disapproving scowl, the maid’s continued shock and the insistent barking of the dog made Roland realize he could not hope to get anywhere here. With a growl of anger, he stalked toward the maid. “Where is your master?”

She gawked up at him, “In the great hall, my lord, when last I saw him.”

Roland dodged around the maid and out into the corridor. He would get to the bottom of this. If Penacre had not known what his daughters were about, which Roland seriously doubted, he soon would.

When Roland stepped into the corridor he stopped short at seeing Penacre’s knight, Giles, standing just a few feet away. The man’s expression was one of strange satisfaction as he watched Roland come through the doorway. With a sardonic smile Roland bowed. “Is there something I can do to assist you, Sir Giles?” He paused then, moving closer to the man as he gazed into a pair of burning eyes that were on a level with his own. “Or perhaps you might be of assistance to me?”

Roland gestured to where Meredyth now stood in the doorway of the bedchamber. She glared at him, her green eyes dark with defiance as he addressed the other knight. “Were you a part of this charade that has seen me married to the wrong sister?”

As Sir Giles’s gaze followed his direction, his eyes grew round with shock and horror. Immediately Roland realized he could not have known. His horrified reply was further proof. “Married to the wrong sister? Do you mean to say that you have married Meredyth instead of Celeste?”

When Roland nodded, Sir Giles shook his head, his gaze vacant with confusion. “But how could this happen?”

Roland shrugged, feeling his own anger rise anew as he pondered that same question yet again. “You would be a more knowledgeable man than myself if you were able to discover the answer to that question.”

Looking at the man, Roland could see that Sir Giles was not listening. He seemed completely overcome as he clearly forgot all thought of good sense or formality, striding past him to stand frowning down at the diminutive Meredyth as he barked, “Where is your sister?”

Meredyth seemed surprised at the degree of Sir Giles’s reaction. She recovered quickly, clearly not willing to allow him to speak thus to her. As she rose to her full height, Roland could not help noting, with an odd stab of protectiveness, that her head did not even reach the level of the dark knight’s shoulder.

“I do not know where Celeste is,” came her haughty reply, “and I will thank you, Sir Giles, to keep a civil tone when speaking to me.” Roland’s protectiveness turned to an even more surprising feeling of respect as he watched her face the fiercesome knight so regally.

In spite of his unexpected reactions to Meredyth, Roland could not help seeing that the man appeared so distressed by her reply that he did not heed her words. Instead he went so far as to reach out and place a detaining gloved hand upon her arm when she made to turn away, speaking to her hoarsely. “Meredyth, you do not know what the two of you have done.”

Roland felt an incredibly powerful wave of possessiveness streak through him at seeing that large hand on Meredyth’s small bare arm. The sheer depth of the reaction left him feeling as if he had been broadsided by a battering ram. Yet even as he sprang forward, he told himself that his degree of vehemence was simply brought on by the fact that Meredyth was his wife, wanted or not. No other man had the right to touch her.

He was at Sir Giles’s side instantly, his fingers closing on his wrist. “Take your hand from my wife.”

Sir Giles looked up at him with dawning clarity as if he, too, were surprised by his own temerity. Then even as Roland watched, his gaze became hard and guarded as he said, “Very well, Lord Roland. I can see that no one is allowed to trespass upon what belongs to you.”

Roland did not waver in his regard of the other man. “No one.”

Sir Giles looked as if he wished to say more. Then unexpectedly he swung around and strode away from them without a backward glance.

Feeling Meredyth’s gaze upon him, Roland faced her. Her small chin was raised in stubborn defiance. She spoke, with regal conviction. “I did not require your assistance in this, my lord. I am more than capable of rebuffing that oaf.”

Roland felt another unexpected surge of respect for her self-assurance. He quickly pushed it aside, telling himself that respect was not an emotion he wished to feel in connection with any woman—and most definitely not this one. She and her sister had had no right to dupe him. He would make his own position quite clear. “I have neither need nor desire for you to protect yourself, Lady Kirkland. I hold well what belongs to me.”

Outrage darkened her green eyes to jade. Roland had no wish for further debate. She would soon come to understand that his position as her overlord and husband was absolute. He turned and strode down the corridor without another word.

It was clear that his abrupt and obvious dismissal did not please her, for he heard a loud gasp of outrage, then the slamming of a door. A cool smile played about his lips as he heard this. That wench was sadly in need of lessoning, and learn she would, did they remain wed. There could be but one master in his household.

Her capitulation last night had been complete and gratifying. It would be so again, in bed and out. He felt an unexpected stirring in his blood.

Quickly Roland pushed aside all pleasurable thoughts of his bride. He had another matter to attend to. That of ensuring the dower he had been promised.

No woman would sway him from his purpose, no matter how delightful a night in her arms might have been. And Jesu help him, his far too vivid recollections of the evening told him it had been delightful, more so than he would ever have expected. He set his shoulders with determination. Did the dower not come with Meredyth, he would not have her.

Impatiently Roland found himself brushing aside an unwelcome and unanticipated sense of disappointment at his own decision.

He found Penacre in the great hall, where he was just finishing his morning meal. The older man’s gaze was not welcoming as he saw his new son by marriage coming toward him where he sat at the head table.

Roland lost no time in stating his demand. “Penacre, I would have a private audience with you, immediately.” He meant to find out first if Penacre had indeed known of his daughters’ trickery, and second, if he thought to withhold the dower.

Clearly the elder man did not care for Roland’s tone, for he raised a haughty silver brow. “You are free to speak here.” He made a sweeping gesture to indicate the others who were partaking of the morning meal.

“Nay,” Roland replied, “I will converse with you and only you. If your daughter speaks truth you will be glad I have afforded both her and you the courtesy of telling you what I have to say in private.”

Penacre stood, frowning. “As you wish.” Without waiting to see if Roland was indeed following, he strode from the hall. Roland went after him, feeling many sets of unfriendly eyes upon his back. It was obvious that those who had overheard his brusque words to their master did not approve. Roland gave a mental shrug. He had no care for what the folk of Penacre thought of him. He was the one who had been wronged here.

He was led to a small chamber that contained several tables and two chairs. The tables seemed to groan under the weight of the ledgers that rested atop each. Peripherally he found himself thinking that Penacre must have a care with his holdings to keep such detailed records. Then he quickly told himself that Penacre was likely only being miserly. Yet he could not help knowing that Penacre’s home was finely furnished and his daughter richly garbed.

With a wry twist of his lips, Roland told himself it did no ill to Penacre’s lot to be good friend to King John. What matter was it to him now, whom the man supported? Richard was dead.

Roland concentrated on the baron’s possible duplicity toward himself. Penacre made no motion for him to sit, nor did he do so, which was fine with Roland. He had no wish to affect any facade of polite civility.

Roland got to the point immediately. “Lord Penacre, your daughter has assured me that you had no knowledge of what she was about. That is the only reason I am even here discussing this with you rather than with the king himself.”

Penacre’s already stiff expression became even more so. “What are you jabbering about, Kirkland? What has Celeste told you that would make you go to King John in complaint?”

Roland watched the man closely. There was no indication that he was hiding anything, but Roland was not finished. “Not Celeste—Meredyth.”

“Why would Meredyth offer you offense?” The older man shook his head in obvious bafflement. “You have no cause to speak to Meredyth. Have had no need for contact with her of any kind. I’ll thank you to stay away from her.” The pain in his voice was clear as he said, “You’ve already taken the one person who means most to me and will have no more.”

Roland thought this a most odd thing to say, but pushed it aside. He could not be distracted. He continued to study Penacre for any sign of treachery as he said, “Oh, I have had opportunity for the most intimate of contacts with the lady Meredyth. You see it is she who passed the night in my arms.”

Penacre started toward him, his face a mask of anger and confusion. “You had best explain yourself, Kirkland, for I’ve no more patience in me.”

Unmoved by this and determined to learn the truth, Roland said. “It is Meredyth Chalmers who married me in the chapel last eve, Meredyth who is my wife.”

Even Roland could not doubt the utter shock and amazement that drained Hugh Chalmers’s face of all color. As Roland moved to help the older man into a chair, he could not explain the strange sense of relief he felt on finding out his wife had not lied to him on this matter, at least.

He quickly dismissed it. Betrayal was the way of women; his own mother had lessoned them in that when she had abandoned her husband and children by running away with his father’s squire. Even these more than twenty years later the memory had the power to squeeze his heart in a painful grip.

Learning that Meredyth Chalmers had told the truth of this one small matter did not change the fact that she had tricked him into marriage. In fact, it made her reason for doing so even more of a mystery. If not in some attempt to cheat him of the dower, then why indeed?

Meredyth had long since retreated to her own chamber. Nothing more could be gained by staying in Celeste’s. The truth was revealed. She knew that Roland had confronted her father, because he had come to her demanding an explanation, no more than an hour past.

Though it troubled Meredyth greatly to defy her father’s demands for information, she had refused to tell him. Celeste’s secret would not become known through her and Celeste herself had as yet to return to the keep. Her father’s men were at this moment searching for her.

Hugh Chalmers had gone back to St. Sebastian none the wiser, his parting stony stare a clear sign of his disapproval of Meredyth. She could only believe that did he know the truth he would wish for her to protect Celeste. Only that certainty kept her from blurting out all. That and the fact that she could read his illdisguised relief that Celeste had not been the one to marry Kirkland.

Meredyth looked up from her unhappy thoughts as her door opened. It was her maid, Jolie, who stood in the doorway. Her cloud of dark curls surrounded a pale face and troubled brown eyes. “My lady, he is here.”

“He…?” Meredyth asked in a ragged whisper, though she had a very uncomfortable feeling that she already knew what he the maid was referring to.

Before Jolie could say any more, the man in question pushed the door open wide with his broad shoulders. St. Sebastian then dismissed the maid without taking his narrowed cobalt gaze from Meredyth. “You may go.”

Jolie hesitated, her brow creased with concern, and Meredyth knew sympathy for her. The girl was quite young and had only been in her service for three short months. She was not accustomed to dealing with men like Roland St. Sebastian. Nor for that matter was Meredyth, but she nodded reassuringly. “All will be well, Jolie. Lord Kirkland is my…husband. I have nothing to fear from him.”

But even as a clearly reluctant Jolie dipped a curtsy and left, Meredyth wondered if he would continue to be her husband. Would he somehow find a way to set her aside? She supposed the church would allow it, considering the circumstances. Yet she could not help wondering what would then happen to her. She was no longer a virgin and surely all in the keep must know that After Roland had left her in Celeste’s chamber, Meredyth had become aware of the blood on the sheet she used as covering and the fact that Agnes seemed equally aware of it.

No other man would wish to have St. Sebastian’s leavings. Meredyth had thought she was resigned to being her father’s chatelaine, to never having a home and family of her own. But the sheer inescapability of this future should Kirkland refuse to remain wed to her was devastating.

She did not wish for him to know how very much this thought disturbed her. Surely having no husband would be preferable to being this man’s wife. Meredyth squared her shoulders and looked directly into those startlingly blue eyes. “Well?”

Roland St. Sebastian smiled but there was no pleasure in it and a sense of greater unease came over her. “Well, wife. It seems I am to keep you.” Before she could contemplate whether this revelation came as relief or curse, he continued, “Your father seems to have no more understanding of what has made you and your sister act so rashly than I. Furthermore, he has agreed that you shall have the same dower that Celeste would have brought to Kirkland.”

He shrugged. “As I have decided not to contest the fact that you wed me using your sister’s name, the matter is to be overlooked by the priest. We shall change the name on the marriage contract and notify the king of the situation, but I can see little chance of his caring greatly when he has the bulk of his attention set on his own recent marriage to Isabella of Angouleme. He has gained his end in seeing our two houses united. One Chalmers bride is as another.”

Meredyth hardly knew what to reply. His coldness toward her was not surprising, though unexpectedly painful. She pushed this hurt aside to concentrate on the rest of what he had said. The shock of learning that the marriage would be honored by Kirkland was amazing, not to mention the fact that he had just told her that she had attained a dower worth thousands of pounds.

Not that the properties and gold would be available to her. They belonged to the man before her. It was the furniture and linens, the huge copper tub, the bolts of fabric, all the household items they had gathered for Celeste’s marriage. All were now hers.

The thought was so overwhelming that it was a moment before Meredyth realized he was speaking again. “Your father will provide the men to drive the wagons, and I shall leave two of the four I have brought with me to Penacre. They will escort you to Kirkland in the morning. I assume you will be safe upon your own father’s lands. And after that you will be upon mine.”

She frowned. “They will escort me…?”

He raised a brow that was as black as a raven’s wing. “I have other matters to attend to. I shall follow in perhaps a week.”

She took a deep breath. She was to go to Kirkland, the home of her family’s enemy, alone. Meredyth met his gaze with her own deliberately cool one, though it cost her dear. “As you will.” If he thought he would see her beg him to attend her he was greatly mistaken. She would ask for nothing. Better to burn in hell than ask for this oaf’s protection.

Meredyth could not stop herself from saying as much. “If you imagine I shall beg you to act the proper husband to me, St. Sebastian, you may now learn that I will never do so. Not now, and not in the future.” She turned her back to him in dismissal.

It was with complete surprise that she heard his voice so close behind her only a moment later. Dear Lord, he had made not a sound. Meredyth was only just able to keep herself from giving a physical start, as she closed her eyes and willed her racing heartbeat to slow.

His words did nothing to assist her efforts. “Have no fear, wench, I shall act the proper husband to you when required. There will be no need to beg.”

There was no mistaking what he was referring to. The words had the effect of sending a shiver of awareness down her spine. Meredyth was appalled at her own reaction after the way he was now treating her. Even as she struggled with her own feelings, something told her that she must never allow this man to know how greatly he affected her. Calling upon all her reserves of self-preservation, Meredyth swung around to face him. “I have no fear of that or anything else about you, my lord. And allow me to tell you one more truth. You think this marriage has made me yours to command. I am not. I will act by my own wishes.”

As she looked at him, she thought for the briefest moment that she saw admiration light those compelling eyes. But the impression was short-lived, for she could see he was very obviously looking at her with that now accustomed superior expression of his. “Oh, you are mine to command and for whatever act I desire. Mark me.” Without another word he turned on his heel and was gone.

Meredyth passed through the great curtain wall at Kirkland with her head held high. What the occupants of the keep might make of the fact that she was arriving without their lord, she refused to contemplate. She had no more intention of allowing St. Sebastian’s folk to know how dazed she was by the changes that had occurred in her life over the past two days than the man himself.

That not all the changes had been disastrous did not lessen her distress one jot.

She cast a disbelieving glance backward over the two wagonloads of linens, furniture, cloth and other effects. They were hers, all hers, each and every item belonged to her, Meredyth. Never in her life had she thought to have so much.

The only items that had been taken from the chests were the clothing that had already been made up for Celeste, who had finally returned to the keep many hours after the worst of the chaos had died down. She had been summoned to their father, but emerged defiant a short time later, refusing to say where she had been or why she and Meredyth had switched places. Only to Meredyth had she admitted to passing a night in an abandoned forester’s cottage. She had then indicated that her confidence that all would turn out well between Meredyth and Roland had been justified.

An amazed Meredyth had not bothered to plague her with the unpleasant truth. She ignored the throb in her chest at remembering how cool the blackguard had been as he told her that he was sending her on to Kirkland without him.

Determinedly she told herself what he thought mattered very little. What did matter was that she could now set up her own home. Use things that were hers to do with as she pleased. Meredyth much doubted St. Sebastian would remain interested in her for long. He had no real feelings for her. Mayhap he would soon ignore her to the extent that he would leave her to do as she pleased about the keep so long as she did not interfere with him directly. He was a warrior. What true interest could he have in how she ran the household?

For reasons unknown to her the thought of his ignoring her completely was not as soothing as she would have wished. She told herself not to be foolish, even as a sudden and quite unwanted memory of the feel of the man’s tongue against her breast made her flush with heat.

Blushing furiously and angry with herself for such a thought, Meredyth looked about, glad that none here could read her mind. In spite of St. Sebastian’s overconfident parting words, Meredyth had no intention of being intimate with him.

The two men Roland had left behind to escort her sat silent atop their horses where they rode just ahead. They had said barely a word to her or her maid, Jolie, throughout the long day. Neither of the young men had even bothered to mention their names, nor had Roland before he galloped away from Penacre as if he could no longer bear to be there. Of course, she told herself, attempting to be fair-minded, the steadily falling drizzle might have had some bearing on the situation.

Now that they were within the castle walls, Meredyth felt many pairs of eyes upon her. She continued to hold her head high, refusing to give in to the urge to look more closely at the gathering crowd, to see if the people resented their lord’s marriage to his enemy’s daughter as much as she feared. She could only believe they must, and her position was made doubly difficult by Roland’s very conspicuous absence.

Knowing she could change none of this, Meredyth did her utmost to concentrate on surveying her new home. The keep was a large, square, two-story structure with a square tower on each of the four corners. A crenellated walkway ran the length of the four walls. A sturdy log bridge connected the outer wall to the top of the keep. In the event of an attack where the outer wall must be abandoned men would be able to fall back to the protection of the inner keep along this route and burn it behind them so as not to give access to the enemy. She suspected that there were others like it that were not visible to her from this vantage.

Obviously Kirkland took the security of his castle very seriously. Her lips twisted in irony. It did not completely surprise her that such a disagreeable man might indeed have enough enemies to make such precautions necessary.

Not that she felt her own father was lax. But he certainly did not go to such lengths to ensure the peace at Penacre. It had not been needed.

The wagons came to a halt in the center of the courtyard, yet no one moved.

After what seemed an eternity, Meredyth took a deep breath and told herself that she must be the one to do something if no one else intended to. Squaring her shoulders for courage, she slid to the hard-packed ground.

To her relief she saw a man leave the group on the steps of the keep and move toward her. With careful dignity Meredyth waited for him to come to her.

He was a tall man, as tall as St. Sebastian himself, but not quite as broad of shoulder, and his ash-blond hair was cut short He stopped before her with a polite if somewhat stiff bow. “I take it you are my lord’s new wife, the lady Celeste. I am Sir Simon, left in charge of the keep in my lord’s absence. But I am sure he has told you that.”

Meredyth could not hold back a scowl of chagrin. Roland had told her nothing. Worse than that, this man had called her Celeste. Then she chided herself for her own unpreparedness. Of course they were expecting Celeste, not having been told otherwise. Well, she had no intention of explaining anything. She simply replied. “I am your lord’s wife, the lady Meredyth.”

Sir Simon blinked, but she rushed on before anything could be said. “My maid and I are fatigued. It has been quite a long day.”

He cleared his throat. “Ah, of a certainty. And I take it Lord Roland is to follow.”

She did not meet his perplexed and questioning gray gaze. “My lord had other matters to attend to. He is to follow in a few days.”

“Ah, I see,” he replied, though it was quite clear that he did not see.

Meredyth ignored this. She would answer no more questions. She motioned to Jolie. “Come, Sir Simon will show us the way.” She looked to him even as she began to move toward the keep. “I take it rooms have been prepared for me.”

He had no real choice but to come along as he replied, “We thought that you would be sharing Lord Roland’s…”

She stopped him then, with an emphatic shake of her head. Meredyth wanted to tell this man that she would as lief bathe in boiling tar as share a room with Roland St. Sebastian. She uttered none of that, but could not refrain from gasping, “Nay.” Immediately realizing the amazed reaction of the man before her, Meredyth willed herself! to a more moderate manner and tone as she said, “Oh, that would not do. I fear I have many belongings and I would not wish to plague my husband by taking over his chambers.”

She motioned to the heaped wagons. “I will require rooms of my own, most definitely a large bedchamber and a solar.” She attempted a confident and reassuring smile, though she was not at all certain of its effectiveness, considering her current state of disquiet.

The tall knight looked at her closely. “Roland left no specific instructions. We had thought he would be returning here with—”

Gently but deliberately she interrupted, doing her utmost to keep the desperation from her voice. “Then all is well. You will not be countermanding any order given you. Obviously your lord expected me to do as I desired, or he would have accompanied me himself, would he not?”

At last he seemed at a loss for words, for what could he reply to such logic? Only Meredyth was aware of the truth, that Roland had left her at Penacre in anger. But he was not here. What he would say to her actions when he did return, she did not know. She only knew that she would not, could not, share a room with a man who had made his disregard for her so abundantly clear.

Not even when his touch had lit a fire in her like none she had ever imagined.

Forcing such thoughts away, she saw that they had now reached the steps of the keep. Two men and three women stood on the stoop, but she did not look at them directly, simply holding her head high as she fought the uncertainty inside her. To her utter relief no one spoke, simply stepping back to allow her to pass.

As Meredyth entered the great hall at Kirkland and looked about, her already heavy heart sank like a stone in a rain barrel. All during the journey from Penacre she had tried to keep from acknowledging the loneliness and hurt she was feeling, had tried to imagine making a home for herself in spite of the poor beginning with her husband.

Now, seeing the appalling condition of the keep, it was all she could do to prevent the despair that swept over her in a painful wave from showing on her face. The air was gray with smoke from a chimney that obviously needed cleaning. The rushes underfoot smelled stale and sour as she moved farther into the large, rectangular chamber. Several enormous dogs loped about her in open curiosity, making her glad that Sweeting was safely ensconced in the basket in the front of the lead wagon.

The trestle tables, which had not yet been taken down, had been set up in no particular order. The only indication that there was a high table were the two large chairs that rested behind the table closest to the inside wall. At least she thought, attempting to cheer herself, the surfaces had been washed after a fashion, for there were wipe marks in the grease.

She found no comfort in this. Meredyth could not face any more this day. She turned and saw that not only Sir Simon but the others had followed her the length of the room. Still working to hide her disappointment, Meredyth addressed the oldest of the three women, who seemed to display a modicum of intelligence, if the shame in her brown eyes was any indication. “Who is in charge of the household?”

The woman looked to Sir Simon, who blanched. He shrugged. “This is not my area of expertise. Tell her, Anne.”

Anne shifted her sturdy frame. “Einid has the keys at the moment.”

Meredyth closed her eyes, feeling a shooting pain behind the right one. “And what would ‘at the moment’ mean?”

“She is not the chatelaine. There is no one who actually occupies that place. She is…” The woman blushed deeply.

“What?” Meredyth could not completely keep the impatience from her voice. She desperately wished to find some private portion of this terrible place to hide before she broke down before them all.

Anne flushed more deeply. “She is Lord Roland’s…They always take the keys to the keep, while they are in favor…”

The shock of realizing what was being said was numbing. But thankfully that numbness carried her through without breaking. “Roland’s mistress has the keys to the keep?”

Both Sir Simon and Anne blanched now.

Anger surged inside Meredyth’s breast. How dare he send her to this…! To attempt to place her beneath the thumb of his mistress! He would do well to think again.

This Meredyth would rectify immediately. She was quite accustomed to running a castle and commanding servants. She would not stand for such foolishness. Under no. circumstances would she allow herself to be second to her husband’s leman.

Meredyth spoke in her most autocratic tone. “Bring her here to me.”

Anne obeyed immediately, rushing toward a narrow door in the outside wall. She emerged only a moment later with a tall, blond, voluptuous beauty whose enormous blue eyes viewed Meredyth with unmistakable resentment.

Meredyth knew a brief moment’s sadness. If this was the type of woman her husband preferred, it was not a surprise that he found her lacking. What he would say to her actions when he returned she dreaded to contemplate.

Yet she could not relent. She was defining her very position in this household now. How she began was the way things would go forward. She must take control of the household, and without any hint of uncertainty. St. Sebastian must be dealt with when the time came. The very notion caused a quiver in her belly. Quickly she pushed the thought aside. She would not worry about such things now.

She held out her hand and was gladdened to see how steady it was. “Give me the keys.”

The woman bit her lip, looking to Sir Simon for assistance. He offered none, remaining silent as his assessing eyes watched Meredyth. She dismissed his interest. She cared not one jot what he thought as long as he did not impede her.

Reluctantly Einid reached to the belt that rode her lustily curved hips. She took the keys and put them into Meredyth’s hand. “And now,” Meredyth told her calmly and with unshakable authority, though she knew her own temerity was great in making this last declaration, “You may find your way to whence you came. Your services will no longer be required at Kirkland.”

Again the woman called Einid looked to Sir Simon, and again there was no assistance forthcoming. She turned on her heels and ran from the room. Meredyth could not deny the stab of sympathy she felt for the other woman.

Surprising herself, she turned to Sir Simon. “Does she have somewhere to go?”

He answered with studied courtesy, but she sensed some hint of disapproval in his tone. “I believe she does, my lady. It is my understanding that her family lives in the next village over from Kirkland.”

Meredyth told herself she did not care what he thought of her, what any of them thought of her, as long as they showed her the respect her position demanded. She motioned in the direction the girl had gone. “Go after her and see that she arrives there safely.”

His eyes widened. “I am not to leave the keep, my lady.”

She shrugged. “You will not be gone long.”

He made no more demur, only bowed, before adding, “If I may be so bold, you show much kindness in looking after her welfare, my lady. It does you credit. I will give her some time to gather her belongs if that meets with your approval.”

Meredyth nodded. She had no words to answer to this unexpected approval. She had simply spoken from the fairness of her own mind. It was not Einid’s fault that Roland was unthinking.

Yet again, she had no intention of discussing her feelings about her husband. Better to concentrate on things she could change.

She turned to Anne. “Can you do better than this?” Her condemning gaze swept the room.

“I can, my lady. And the time for it is well past due.”

Meredyth handed her the ring of keys. “Now take me to a suitable chamber. As soon as I have approved of the accommodation, you may send—” she motioned to the servants who hovered in the dimness behind them “—these men to unload the wagons and the women to clean my chambers.”

Anne nodded. Like Sir Simon’s her gaze was thoughtful and assessing as she watched Meredyth. “There are chambers in the tower. They were occupied by Lord Roland’s mother, the lady Jane, before she…died. There is a large bedchamber, a room for a lady’s women and a comfortable solar. But I do not know if Lord Roland would wish for me to—”

Meredyth was not deaf to the odd hesitation in the serving woman’s voice as she spoke of Roland St. Sebastian’s mother, yet she could not find the necessary energy to think on this at the moment. There were already too many troubles crowding her mind. Meredyth interrupted her, evenly, quietly, unwaveringly. “Please take me to those chambers.” She was silently glad that her agitation was not reflected in her tone.

The serving woman lowered her gaze. “Of course, my lady.”