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Merry said, “Do you wish to wager your life on that, Sir Lyle? Look, Talia has a stout broom in her hands and Elaine is holding a chamber pot. Tell me, are you here for Arthur’s silver coins? How did you hear of it? Come, tell me, who told you about the silver?”
“ ’Tis you who are here for no good. ’Tis you who wish Lord Garron ill.” He spat on the reeds near her right foot, wheeled about, and walked straight into Garron.
“Sir Lyle, is something wrong?”
“Nay, my lord. I was on my way to meet with my men on the practice field.”
“Not this morning. We will leave within the hour for London. Bring two of your men with you.”
Sir Lyle merely nodded and strode out of the great hall.
“Merry! Come here!”
He looked windblown, irritated, and she was so glad to see him she skipped up to him, not difficult since Lady Anne’s gown was so short, whistling like Gilpin. She gave him a dazzling smile. “Good morning, Garron. I trust you slept well?”
He paused a moment at that smile. It was as beautiful as it was wicked. He automatically searched out the three small braids hidden in her hair. He found only two. Was that the third, nearly hidden beneath that thick plait? He raised his hand to search it out, got hold of himself, and lowered his hand back to his side. “I did not get to sleep all that much,” he said.
“Mayhap I should make both of us a sleeping potion of passion flower and woodruff, valerian too, I believe, since, like you, I did not sleep all that much either. But the truth is, my lord, when I did sleep, I nestled with the angels.” She tapped her chin. “Hmmm, I must see if such a potion is an infusion or a decoction.”
“You nestled with the Devil, more like.” He’d held her tightly against his chest until he’d awakened early that morning to the awful realization that his world had changed irrevocably and all because of this girl with her clever braids and beautiful smile. And her lists.
“The Devil, you say?” She arched an eyebrow and grinned shamelessly up at him.
“It seems Gilpin believed me to have an enemy in my chamber.”
“Do you think so? You did yell, that is—”
“Be quiet.”
“If so, the enemy seems to have laid you low.”
He wanted to laugh, but wasn’t about to. “Get yourself ready. We go to London to see the king. I would prefer to leave you here but I dare not. You might find Arthur’s silver coins and flee to Scotland.”
She lowered her voice to a whisper since every ear in the great hall was listening. “I will do just as you say. But surely, do you not think we should wed first? Then everything will be quite clear for the king.”
He spoke over her. “You will do as you’re told, do you understand me? You will keep your tongue behind your teeth. This is between me and the king. You will not interfere.”
“Let us wed first, Garron.”
“No. Besides, there is no priest here to wed us. Your sainted father was killed in the Retribution, do you not remember?”
She ignored his sarcasm because her future was at stake and she couldn’t back down. “Where does one find a priest?”
Miggins called out, “Worthward Abbey is not all that far distant, there are many priests there, praying endlessly on their scarred knees, I doubt not, the poor sots.”
“Excellent, we can be wed before nightfall.”
“No. Be quiet. Get yourself prepared.”
She didn’t like it. What was he planning to say to the king? How would he talk him around? She saw he was waiting for her to open her mouth, probably to blight her, and so she kept quiet. She was ready to beg the king on her knees to allow her to wed Garron. She was ready to spice up her offer with Arthur’s vast cache of silver coins as soon as she found it, if only he would bless their union and leave Garron’s head attached to his neck. Everything would be all right.
He cupped her chin in his palm and forced her face up and said low, his mouth not an inch from hers, his breath warm on her cheek, “You got what you wanted, but it wasn’t at all pleasant for you. Was it worth such a sacrifice?” He wasn’t about to tell her he’d felt like he’d flown off the earth and lazed around in the clouds. Even though this girl was half his size, she was dangerous. And an heiress. “Well, was it?”
She nodded. He tightened his hold on her chin. “I do not trust you. What are you planning now? You will not make a list of arguments to present to the king, do you understand me?”
“Of course I understand you, your whisper is as loud as a yell. You do realize that everyone knows I am no longer a maid. Sir Lyle called me your harlot.”
“He would not dare. You made that up because you don’t like him.”
