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When Baron Cotswolt kept Garron back to question him about the Black Demon, Garron sent her a look that threatened death or dismemberment. In return, she gave him a sweet smile that made his belly curdle, and hurried into the queen’s solar. She saw the queen was nursing a babe, no surprise since it seemed to her that the queen was always nursing a new babe. She was sitting in a warm splash of sunlight, silk pillows stacked around her, humming a song Merry had written for her.
Alice of Kent met Merry at the door, eyebrows raised over beautiful green eyes. “I cannot believe it is really you. You swore you would never return. At least you are no longer a scruffy child. You have grown up well, Merry. I rather thought you would. I hear you traveled here with Garron of Kersey. It will be lovely to see him again. Tell me, how did this come about?”
How could she possibly know all this so quickly? “How very nice to see you again, Alice.” Merry was looking around for Blanche, and there she was, Merry was sure of it, her gown cut low, her mighty breasts on display, smiling at something one of the other ladies said. She was indeed bountiful. Best be sure. “Alice, who is that lady yon? She was not here when I was.”
“That is Blanche of Howarth.”
The woman looked toward Merry, called to Alice, “And just who is this, Alice? Do not say it is the girl who accompanied Garron here.”
Queen Eleanor called out, “Merry? Is it you, child? Welcome. Come here and meet my newest daughter, little Blanche. She is the image of my dear lord. Would you look at all the golden hair and blue eyes, and a nose that will doubtless become long and thin, just like her father’s?”
As the queen extended her soft white hand, Merry was afraid that hers were rough. “She is the most beautiful babe I have ever seen, my lady.”
Eleanor laughed, released her hand, and patted her cheek. “Of course, she is. All Plantagenet babes are beautiful. She is also hungry, always she is hungry.” As she spoke, the queen looked down at her daughter frantically suckling at her breast, dropped a kiss on the babe’s forehead, and looked back up at Merry. “You have grown taller. Goodness, you are taller than any of my ladies. Take off your wimple and show me your beautiful hair. Ah, such a lovely red and as glorious as ever. I like the plaits, they suit you. Ladies! Come and greet Merry.”
Six ladies dutifully arranged themselves around the queen and greeted Merry courteously. They smiled, noted her too-short, out-of-date gown, the ugly old slippers, and wondered what she was doing here, and with Garron of Kersey.
As suddenly as the queen had called them over and introduced them to Merry, she dismissed them. When the six ladies were out of hearing, the queen cleared her throat, put her babe to her other breast, covered her golden head. “I have heard several of my ladies speak of Garron of Kersey with a great deal of affection. Why are you here with him?”
“I had forgot how quickly news spreads here at court.”
“Gossip flows more quickly than my lord’s fine wine down our barons’ gullets.”
“Still, we only just arrived, and Baron Cotswolt brought us directly here.”
“One of the pages recognized both you and Lord Garron and immediately came to tell Blanche. The pages tell Blanche everything because she gives them sweetmeats.”
So Blanche of the huge breasts passed out bribes. That was smart of her and Merry hated her all the more for it. Merry looked at the queen’s lovely face. There was so much to tell her—My father died, my mother sold me to Jason of Brennan, and I escaped only to be kidnapped and Garron saved me—
She felt tears sting her eyes. She slipped to her knees and rested her cheek on the queen’s knee. “So much has happened, my lady.”
Eleanor stroked Merry’s hair, fingered the fat plaits, and saw a grown lady, not a girl. “What is it, Merry?”
She whispered, “I wish to wed him, my lady. We seek the king’s blessing, but he is not here to give it, and I am afraid Garron will insist on searching him out in Cornwall, and the king will not give his permission and instead he will order Garron to have his head cut off because I am an heiress and no longer a maid and it is Garron who is responsible, only it was I who seduced him, I swear it. He is good and honorable.”
Merry looked up when Garron ran into the queen’s solar, Baron Cotswolt on his heels, three guards clanking in their wake. He saw the gaggle of beautifully gowned ladies staring at him, but it didn’t matter, his eyes were on Merry, who was sitting on a huge silk pillow on the floor beside the queen. He stopped dead in his tracks. “Merry! I did not hear what you said, but shut your mouth!”
He suddenly became aware that the queen’s hand was stroking Merry’s hair and she was suckling a babe. “Ah, I bid you good health, my lady.” He gave her a beautiful formal bow even as he gnashed his teeth. “Forgive me for intruding, but—”
Eleanor interrupted him, her voice soft and pleasant, “Baron Cotswolt, do not be alarmed. As you know, Garron of Kersey was the king’s own guard for three years. He is well known to me. You may leave him here without fear for my person,” and she dismissed him with a regal nod.
The baron managed not to stare at the queen as she covered her babe’s head and her white breast with a pale blue silk shawl. He frowned toward Merry, nodded to Garron, and unwillingly took himself out of the solar.
> When the thick door finally closed, Garron realized he didn’t know what to do. He saw Blanche and two other ladies he’d bedded, Alice and Mathilda, all three of them staring at him like he was a meaty bone. He would swear in that moment the stones shifted beneath his booted feet, and he knew there was a deep, deep pit beneath those stones, maybe even Hell. Merry was still curled up on the floor next to the queen, not moving, just staring at him. By all the saints’ long-suffering mothers, what had she said to the queen? Had he heard the word “seduce”? He was a dead man. He remembered Burnell’s talk of the executioner and his unfortunate eyesight, and swallowed.
No, he wasn’t going to have his head chopped off, not if he did this properly. But he had planned all his arguments for the king—practical reasons, sound reasons, all of those reasons to benefit the king’s coffers, and he’d had only minutes to change the nature of his explanations for the queen’s delicate ears. He looked at her and saw softness, a lovely gown, and shining hair, and felt like a mongrel caught digging in a bed of roses.
He could but try.
He gave her another bow. “My lady, pray forgive my intrusion.” He pointed to Merry. “I hope this one here has told you she is in my care.”
“Actually, my lord, she did not tell me that.”
“She is in my care, my lady. Ah, what did she say to you?”
The queen laughed. “It seems you are wanted as a husband, Garron of Kersey. What say you?”
He’d only been a moment behind her, well, maybe several moments, and yet she’d managed to get that out so quickly? What to say? He cleared his throat and plowed forward. “My lady, I know well it is the king’s prerogative to select this one’s husband since her father is dead and she has the gall to be a damned heiress and thus men kidnapped her, and I know that I cannot simply wed her.” He faltered.
