“He was achild.”
He bared his teeth and snarled, “So was I.”
“And yet, instead of addressing it with your father, you ran away to mine, a far poorer example of a man whose only use for his child was as a tool to be discarded when it lost its edge.”
I had read enough in my father’s journals to know how he felt about his protege. Never good enough, never cunning enough, never measuring up to his ever-changing standards. He’d despised Merrick as much as he’d despised me, and Merrick knew that.
Maybe my father was preparing to cast him aside, too, before he was arrested and executed. Maybe his death had saved Merrick from losing the perceived affections of a second father.
Either way, the heart of it all was that Merrick’s view of Penny had been clouded by his own pain. I knew there’d be no changing his perception or assignment of guilt, but that wouldn’t stop me from trying.
“For having known Penny his whole life, you’ve managed not to know him at all.” I met Merrick’s eyes, unflinching in the face of his seething ire. “My father never really knewme, either. Little wonder you two got along.”
Turning away from him, I urged the horse forward.
Merrick dodged the plow as it passed him, slipping in the mud and nearly landing flat on his ass. He grabbed the handles to steady himself, and his next words ground out of him like barbs. “I’m nothing like you.”
Marching forward, I called over my shoulder, “You're right.”
He had nothing to say to that.
33
Penny
By the time dinner rolled around, my insides were a tangle of excitement to see Kit and aggravation about being trapped under the same roof as Merrick. Warren and I finished cleaning and sorting the barn long before the other men turned in, so we had time to help Mother and Sayla cook dinner and set the table.
“Perhaps Merrick could take his meal in the garden,” Sayla suggested as we laid out plates. “Or in the mud with the pigs. He’ll be filthy enough to fit right in.”
I loved my sister always, but she earned an extra measure of my appreciation when she proved herself my strongest ally in all things. Truly, my best friend.
Mother pinned her with a chastising look. “I imagine Kit will be quite muddy, too. Should we banish him to the sty, as well?”
Sayla rolled her eyes.
Mother used a towel to pull a tray of rolls out of the oven and set them on the counter. Warren brought over a pot of green beans and nestled them next to the roasted pheasant in the middle of the table. Sayla bumped into him, making him smile when he realized the collision was intentional.
They'd certainly grown closer since I was last here. My sister had been smitten enough with the silversmith half a year ago. Now, she was besotted. It made me grin, too, considering Warren’s plans for the evening.
The back door swung open and Merrick tromped in, stamping dirty boot prints across the floor on his way to the sink to scrub his hands, then to the living room fireplace. The miserable day had turned even more so as the sun set, bringing a cold front on the wind that whistled by.
Merrick was soggy from head to heels, and his cheeks and nose burned red with chap. He was grumbling something under his breath I didn’t care to make out as my attention returned to the door he’d left open and the next person coming through it.
Kit was a sight, more mud than man and soaked through. I felt a pang of remorse to think how wretched it must have been slogging about in the muck for hours and how he’d so dutifully spared me from it. I set down the last plate and skirted the table, rushing to get to Kit as he stooped to tug off his boots.
The frown that had creased his brow eased at the sight of me. I came in close and offered a hand to take his cold, clammy one so he could steady himself until he was down to his similarly wet and muddy socks.
He glanced down at those and sighed.
“Bath for you later, sir,” I teased and kissed a clean spot on his cheek.
“Food first,” Kit grunted, and I nodded agreement.
I followed him to the sink where he scrubbed up to his elbows and wiped down his face, then led him to the seat at the head of the table.
He balked at that, hesitating long enough to draw Mother and Sayla’s notice. Merrick was busy warming himself by the fire, but he would take note when he returned as well. It might have been asking for trouble to be so brazen, but I wanted tobe explicitly clear about who deserved the place of honor in my house.
Another nudge toward the open seat toppled Kit into it. I wasn’t sure if he was resigned to my decision or too tired to resist. Either way, I scooted around behind and pushed his chair in before taking my place at his right side.
