“She shouldn’t be forced to travel.”
“I thought you said she’s not seriously ill.”
“I said I don’t think she is, but I’m sure a journey wouldn’t help her feel better.”
“It is my express order that you accompany me to Tintagel,” Merrick commanded as, naked, he threw back the coverlet. “I have need of you.”
“What, to warm your bed?” she retorted even as she tried to stem her growing desire. “Heat a stone and put that at your feet.”
He got into the bed and covered himself. “To tell me what other men’s wives and daughters have heard about the situation between the king and his barons.”
“You want me to spy?” She lifted her chin defiantly. “Like Peder, I will not.”
“I want your help.”
“To listen at doors, or try to discern a dollop of useful information from hours of meaningless gossip?”
He raised a coolly inquisitive brow. “This seems a sudden change of attitude, my lady. I thought you would leap at the chance to go to Tintagel, the better to express your political views to a larger audience. You certainly seemed anxious enough to wag your tongue in front of Lord Osgoode, even if your ideas make him suspect that the lord of Tregellas is plotting treason.”
Guilt washed over her as she thought of what she’d said to Lord Osgoode upon first meeting him. Yet it couldn’t be as bad as Merrick was implying. “Surely he doesn’t think that. Besides, what I said about the king is true,” she finished defensively.
“In your opinion,” he retorted. “To some, it’s treason, and most men will assume I share those opinions, because no woman would dare espouse a view opposite to her husband’s.”
“I would.”
Merrick climbed out of bed. “Yes, you would—whether or not it would make trouble. But men like Osgoode don’t know you’re the exception.”
“That’s not my fault—”
“For God’s sake, woman, are you a fool?” he demanded, glaring at her, his hands on his hips although he was still unabashedly naked. “Whether you like it ornot, that’s the way of the world and by vainly, arrogantly expressing your views before a man we don’t know, you’ve put us all in danger.”
“I have not,” she countered, fighting back tears of both anger and dismay, telling herself he was wrong. He had to be. She’d always tried to protect people, not endanger them. “You made it clear to Lord Osgoode I don’t speak for you.”
“You made me give him an excuse, and he seemed to accept it, but men like that forget nothing. If I do anything—anything—that seems even a little suspicious, he’ll remember and take the tale to court.
“And even if I agree that you’re right and Henry is a bad king, would you have me risk my life, yours and that of everyone in Tregellas to find out? Are you really so certain Richard would do better? If you are, you have a very rosy view of mankind. He could turn out to be a good deal worse.”
With that, Merrick tugged on his breeches and grabbed his boots.
Although she was taken aback by his harsh words, she heard the truth in them. What was she really asking for when she spoke of deposing the king?
Yet even so, her pride rose up as Merrick marched haughtily to the door. She wouldn’t beg. Even if he was right, she wouldn’t plead with him to stay. “Where are you going?”
He looked at her over his shoulder, and a more bloodless, cold expression she had never seen. “To sleep elsewhere.” His lips jerked up in a scornful smile. “Afraid to be alone, my lady? Perhaps you can get some solace from Kiernan, or some other nobleman who spouts soft words and empty endearments.”
Shocked, appalled and, most of all, indignant, she grabbed her ivory comb by the bed and threw it at his head with all her might.
The missile missed him by mere inches. Instead, it struck the door and shattered.
“I see you learned something from my father after all,” he growled as he opened the door. “In two days, my lady, and whether you want to or not, you’ll go with me to Tintagel, and Beatrice will go home.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“EXPECTING TROUBLE, ARE YOU?”
“Always,” Merrick replied, regarding Ranulf with cold composure as they stood together in the armory. His cortege was to leave for Tintagel at dawn the next morning, and he wanted to make sure all was ready.
“Tintagel’s not that far,” Ranulf noted. “Are you sure you need so many men in your escort? Between Lord Osgoode’s soldiers and ours, that’s over fifty.”
