"Had I found you outside the forest and without the falcon, that would be true," he said, watching her with disturbing intensity. "As it is, I have quite enough evidence to imprison you indefinitely."
"Then bring me before a jury of freeman, as is my right under English law," she demanded. "No honest court will convict me of wrongdoing. As God is my witness, I am guilty of nothing!"
"If you know anything of law," he said coolly, reverting to English, "you must also know that the lords of the Welsh Marches have authority far beyond that of other barons. As Earl of Shropshire I have the power of high and low justice. If I wish, I can take your ear or hand as punishment for poaching. I could even take your life and none would gainsay me."
"The laws of men may give you the right, but this is not justice in the eyes of God!" Meriel cried, anger overcoming fear.
Ignoring her words, he said thoughtfully, "Though I am not an expert on Welsh speech, it sounds to me as if your accent is of southern Wales, not the north, and your English is flawless. Are you an Englishwoman born of Welsh parents? Perhaps a serf who ran away from her master after stealing a horse and falcon?''
Meriel took a deep breath to calm herself, then looked directly into his unreadable gray eyes. "No, my lord, you are entirely wrong. I am a freeborn woman, not an English serf, and never in my life have I stolen anything from anyone."
"Then summon witnesses who can attest to your identity and character," he challenged her. "That is another provision of English law. I won't require ten—if you can produce five people who will swear for you, I will release you immediately."
Less than a day's ride away were dozens of people who would swear for her, but this strange interrogation had reinforced Meriel's belief that revealing her identity might endanger Avonleigh. "I cannot summon witnesses, my lord, and well you know it. All my friends and neighbors are too far away, and I know no one in this district," she replied, lifting her chin and speaking with the calm pride of a Norman lady. "Why do you treat me so harshly? Surely all minor offenders are not so ill-used. Why have you singled me out for this persecution?"
Lord Adrian stood and walked across the room to gaze out his window for a moment, then turned to face her. "I am not persecuting you, simply demonstrating the gravity of your situation. You were found with evidence of a serious crime and you refuse to give an honest account of yourself," he said quietly. Against the bright sunlight she could not see his expression, but the tension in his lean body was clearly visible. "While I have sufficient evidence and authority to punish you with great severity, it is not my desire to do so."
"Then what is your desire, my lord?" Meriel asked, utterly bewildered by this strange nobleman who had the semblance of a reasonable man, but who said such unreasonable things.
There was a lengthy pause. Then he crossed the room to her, a lithe silhouette against the bright light. He stopped an arm's length away and drew a deep breath before saying, "I want you to become my mistress."
Chapter 5
Meriel stared at him, her vivid blue eyes stark with astonishment. "You are mad," she said with conviction.
"Not at all," Adrian replied, uneasily aware that speaking so directly might not be wise, but unable to think of a better way. "For men and women to come together is the most natural thing in the world."
"But why me?" she asked in honest bewilderment. "I am no beauty, I have never inspired men to intemperate lust. If you desire a mistress, there must be a hundred women on your lands prettier and more suitable than I."
Adrian studied her slim graceful figure and the shining raven hair that cascaded sensuously about her, amazed that the girl had no notion of how attractive she was. "I don't want another woman, I want you."
"But I do not want you, Lord Adrian," she said as her gaze met his searchingly. "I want only my freedom."
What was between them changed. Before, they had been nobleman and commoner. Now they were man and woman. "Have you a husband?" he asked.
Meriel shook her head.
"A sweetheart?"
She shook her head again.
Though her answer was a relief, at the same time Adrian felt an odd kind of sorrow for the honesty that made her vulnerable. Meriel had already demonstrated that she was a dreadful liar, and she didn't even think to attempt the one falsehood that might have freed her. "You would have been wiser to have lied," he said. "Though it would have been difficult, I could have accepted your refusal if your heart or hand belonged to another man. Since they do not, I intend to... to win you for myself."
"I am not a prize to be 'won,'" she said tartly. "If threats are your notion of wooing, no wonder you are in need of a mistress. You would do better to ask your steward to find a willing girl. I'm sure he can easily find many who will be not only willing but eager to lie with their lord." Her eyes narrowed. "Unless the thought of rape excites you? For that is the only way you will have me."
"I am not interested in rape. I hope to persuade you to willingness." Adrian surrendered to desire and stepped forward, lightly placing his hands on Meriel's shoulders. She tensed and lifted her head to look at him. Her face was mere inches away, her long sooty lashes emphasizing the clarity of her blue eyes, her grave regard a question and a reproach.
Whether or not she was beautiful could be debated, but Adrian was not interested in the opinion of others. What mattered was that to him this slim young woman was irresistible. He bent his head and kissed her, not with the passion that she had roused in him from the moment he saw her, but gently, with all the restraint he could muster.
For one sweet moment Meriel accepted the kiss, her soft mouth welcoming his with innocent pleasure and exploration. With a rush of hope Adrian thought that his wooing would be easy, that she desired him as he desired her. His arms went around her and he drew her close so that her warm contours molded against him.
She stiffened immediately and pulled away, moving so quickly that her glossy black hair swirled about her like smoke. When she had put a safe distance between them, she said in a shaking voice, "Surely there is nothing in English or Norman law that gives you the right to ravish a suspected offender, Lord Adrian."
He forced himself to stand still rather than follow her. "As I said, I do not want to ravish you. What I am offering is a position of honor and respect, with all the comfort that money and power can provide."
"Honor? To be your whore?" she asked incredulously. "And when you have wed your heiress, to be your companion in adultery? You may have no thought for your immortal soul, Lord Adrian, but I feel otherwise."
She had found the flaw that lay at the heart of his desire, for he had always sworn that he would never commit adultery. Nor did he intend to do so in the future. Uneasily Adrian decided to face that problem later, suppressing the inner voice that taunted him with the knowledge of his own hypocrisy. "There is no adultery if both man and woman are free as we are. Fornication is no great sin. Some think it no sin at all."
"Men are more inclined to approve of fornication, my lord, for the consequences bear lightly on them. A woman who is not more careful is a fool," she said dryly. "Men have ever used arguments like yours to casually seduce and abandon young girls."
"I have never been interested in casual seduction, nor am I now. If you trust me, I will not betray and abandon you."
"Fine lies, my lord, but why should I believe them?"
"I am not lying," he said steadily, knowing how important it was to convince her of his sincerity.
She raised her dark brows. "Why should I believe you any more than you believed me?"
"Unlike you, I happen to be telling the truth."
Meriel's gaze shifted away and the movement confirmed that she was too honest to uphold her own falsehoods. It was easy to know that she was lying; a pity that Adrian could not as easily guess what she was so determined to conceal. But in truth it did not matter what her past was, for she could have committed any number of crimes and it would make no difference to him.
"I told the
truth when I said I was innocent of wrongdoing," she said, a catch in her voice, "and I tell the truth now. Even if I had no care for my honor, I will never go willingly to the bed of a man who holds me prisoner."
He stepped closer and she edged away, retreating until her back was against the carved wooden bookcase. She stood rigid, her hands curled around the edge of a shelf behind her.
"If I took you outside and freed you now," he asked quietly, "then asked again that you become my mistress, would you accept?"
Meriel's eyes flashed. "Release me and find out!"
"Do you think you would survive traveling alone to Lincoln, if that is indeed your destination?" He had to admire her courage even while he deplored her lack of sense. "You think me harsh, but I will not use you half so cruelly as a band of robbers or drunken soldiers will."
"Then you mean to keep me prisoner?" she asked, her fair skin becoming still more pale.
"You can be my prisoner or my cherished mistress," he said, his voice implacable. "The choice is yours."
Meriel caught her breath, realizing that he was deadly serious. "That is not a choice, Lord Adrian, for either way I am a prisoner."
"Life is a prison," he said, an edge in his mild voice. "We are all bound by our responsibilities, by our places in society, by the choices we make, and by the ones that are thrust on us. Only those who care for nothing and nobody are truly free this side of the grave, and they will spend eternity in chains."
At another place and time Meriel might have admitted that there was some truth in his words, but not now, not here. "Your argument is too subtle for me," she retorted. "Being a simple creature, all I know is that yesterday I was free to choose my own road, to give or withhold my body, to risk my life on my journey if I wished to. Now my only choices are a dungeon or your bed, and of the two, I prefer the dungeon. At least then my honor will be unstained."
"I have heard that the women of Wales take pride in being descended from the ancient kings of Britain. That they believe there is no sin in giving themselves where they love, and that they are known for the courage with which they follow their hearts." His brows rose in mock surprise. "Is that not so?"
Meriel hesitated, impressed at his knowledge of a people so different from his own. Her mother had been a Welshwoman such as he described, and Meriel had much of her mother in her. "Even more than love, Welshwomen revere freedom, and I can never give my love to a man who has taken my freedom away."
"Never is a very long time."
Meriel closed her eyes and kneaded her temples, temporarily defeated by the stubbornness with which the earl held to his absurd passion for her. Perhaps such passions were a habit of his, and a week from now his regard would fall on another woman and he would forget her. She would pray for that, and hope that it was true that he did not believe in rape.
Uncannily reading her mind, Lord Adrian said, "You think I am acting on whim and my fancy will soon pass to another, but that will not happen, for I am not a whimsical man. I hope that when you have had time to consider what I am offering, the idea will become more appealing."
"Time will not change my mind," she said, opening her eyes and matching his determination with her own.
He asked softly, "Do you find me repugnant?"
Meriel examined the chiseled masculine elegance of his features, his angel-bright hair, the controlled strength and power of his lean body. He had the untamed beauty of a hawk, and like a hawk, his dangerous grace touched something deep inside her, "You are a comely man," she said with reluctant honesty, "but how can I welcome the advances of my jailer?"
"Perhaps a few days of confinement will answer that question," he said, his voice dry again. "Come."
Silently she accompanied him back to her room. The earl stepped aside to let her in, then stood in the door, watching her. She turned to face him, her expression wary. He did not try to kiss her again, but he touched her aching temple, gently brushing back her hair.
Meriel flinched away and he dropped his hand immediately. She was startled by the yearning in his face, and might almost have been sorry for him, had she not been the target of his unwelcome desire.
"Rest well," he said, his voice without inflection. "We will speak of this again."
Then he closed and locked the door, the heavy rasp of the turning key like the trumpet of doom.
* * *
Drained by the interview, Meriel lay down on the bed but sleep eluded her. It would be comforting to think that she was experiencing a nightmare caused by green apples, but Warfield Castle and its uncommon master were too vivid to deny. Lord Adrian was different from any man she had ever met. She tried to define the difference, because understanding him might be vital to her future.
While she had been fascinated by that great glass window, the most unusual feature in his chamber was the case full of books. It was remarkable that the earl could read, more remarkable yet that he had a library that would do credit to a monastery. Apparently the pious scholarly expression his face wore in repose was genuine. And oddly enough, she believed that he would indeed have released her if she had had the wit to claim that she was bound to another man.
Yet side by side with the scholar lived a ruthless warrior, accustomed to imposing his will on everyone and everything around him. Meriel shivered, remembering the terrifying intensity she had seen in the earl's eyes when they had met in the forest. Though today he had behaved with restraint, she sensed that beneath his surface calm, a devil lay waiting for the opportunity to break free.
The Church warned that there was a bit of the devil in everyone, which must be true of her because for a moment she had enjoyed the earl's touch, had wondered what it would be like to let him continue. Between her years in the priory and her large, protective male relatives, she had reached the advanced age of twenty-one with a singular lack of experience. It had been very educational to learn how pleasant a kiss could be. Passion was not a subject Meriel had ever much considered, but it was suddenly easier to understand why many peasant girls went to their marriage beds with a babe already on the way.
Her lips thinned in disgust at her weakness. Everything that Lord Adrian had done today had emphasized that he was a dangerous, unpredictable man. Meriel might be only a weak woman, but with the Blessed Mother's help she would be strong enough to do what was right for Avonleigh, no matter what that beautiful fallen-angel earl might do to her.
* * *
Adrian had seen enough of his little Welshwoman to be sure that her will was great, and that she was determined not to yield to him. Therefore, suspecting that boredom might prove to be a better ally than threats of violence, he decided to leave his captive alone for a full week before he spoke to her again. She would be allowed all comforts save those of companionship.
Suppressing his conscience, he ordered that the maid who took her meals should not linger, and that no one else be permitted to visit her. To ensure that his resolve to leave her alone did not falter, he personally led a patrol along the border between his lands and those of Guy of Burgoigne. His rival had launched a series of raids, and the grim work of fighting, commanding, and rebuilding took much of Adrian's attention.
Nonetheless, the thought of Meriel was always in the back of his mind. At night, as he lay restless and longing for sleep, the image of her sent fire through his veins, an unholy mixture of desire and guilt.
Uneasily he recognized that he had mishandled her badly, a mistake he had never made with horse or falcon. Yet he could not undo what had been done. To release the girl now would be to lose her, quite possibly to send her to her death. A masterless man or woman was prey to all manner of dangers even at the best of times, which was why every village needed a lord to protect its people. With war brewing between the rival earls of Shropshire and Guy of Burgoigne controlling the roads that led northeast, Meriel would be running straight into disaster if she really meant to go to Lincoln.
No, he must continue as he had begun. If Meriel could be persuaded to accept his adva
nces, surely in time she would come to feel the affection that usually grew between bedmates. She had thought him comely, and God knew that he did not wish to harm her. Many women entered marriage praying that they would be so fortunate.
In return for accepting him she would have rank and wealth such as few women of her birth ever attained. Once she had had time to consider, that prospect should be enough to win her willingness. If not... He refused to think of what he would do if that was not enough.
* * *
There was some concern when the mistress's horse returned alone to the Avonleigh stables, but real fear did not set in until darkness fell and Meriel was still missing. Though nothing could be done that night, at dawn the next morning searchers went out, led by Henry, the manor steward.
The searchers were hampered by the rain that had fallen overnight, and the manor's keenest-nosed hounds were unable to trace the missing woman much beyond the fields of Avonleigh. The search continued for days with increasing desperation, through the wasteland, to all the neighboring manors, even to the edge of the royal forest, but without success. No one had seen any sign of Lady Meriel de Vere, either dead or alive.
When all hope of finding her had been exhausted, the steward sent word to Lord Theobald's castle. The next messenger that his lady sent to her husband in France carried a note to Sir Alan de Vere, informing him that his sister had disappeared and was presumed dead.
* * *
Amidst the constant demands of a busy household, Meriel had sometimes thought wistfully that it would be pleasant to have nothing to do, and often in the clamor of the great hall she longed for unlimited privacy. After a day of inactivity, she knew how foolish those wishes had been.
The first day after Lord Adrian had issued his ultimatum had not gone badly. She slept for hours and woke refreshed, feeling no more effects of her accident than a few twinges in her ankle. Then she had prayed, asking the Blessed Virgin to protect her and her chastity. By the next day, restlessness was gnawing at her. Sweet Mary, how did anyone survive years in a dungeon? Meriel preferred not to think further along those lines, since there was an unpleasant chance that she would find out.