Her Dark Baron

by Nadja Notariani

  “Look at me, Mariel,” he husked, brushing her lips softly. “See me as I am.”

  His dark gaze held hers as he sank deep within her, his ragged groan preceding the heated pulse of his spilling. Time stood still for the long moments he tenderly watched her in the aftermath of their coupling. He did not speak to her again, but lowered his lips to hers occasionally in the slightest of brushing caresses, remaining inside her body in the intimate communion of knowing her within and without.

  * * *

  Edmond and Elizabeth had visited again, and by the time they departed, leaving her in peace of solitude once again, Mariel determined to salvage what remained of her afternoon by riding out on her mare, Tell-Tale. She had gifted her chestnut mare with the name after observing that she nickered and whinnied if any horse near her wandered – even a short distance. Elizabeth had declined the invitation to ride out with her, and truth be told, Mariel was relieved at her sister-in-law's absence. Now, mounting her saddle, she was free.

  Goading Tell-Tale into a brisk trot, Mariel escaped the confines of the gated courtyard and the responsibilities of her life as a proper hostess. The mare pranced proudly, kicking her hind legs up, and Mariel guessed it was in anticipation of the full out run she expected to be forthcoming.

  “You're terribly squirrely today, girl,” Mariel scolded. “Here,” she reached into the saddle bag, “how about a carrot?”

  But Tell-Tale whinnied, side-stepping and rearing, eyes trained ahead.

  “All right, girl. I'm craving a wild run myself. Let's go!”

  Prodding her mount's flanks, Tell-Tale took off at breakneck pace across the rolling green. After the longer than usual marathon, Mariel pulled the reins to steer them around a rock patch in the bottoms, but Tell-Tale ignored the correction, barreling ahead defiantly.

  “Easy, girl,” Mariel attempted to soothe, astonished that the usually well-behaved chestnut carried on so.

  Leaning back in the stirrups and drawing the reins with her might, Mariel realized her mount was beyond control. Tell-Tale reared, gnashing at her bit and bucking wildly. Her large, soft eyes were wide with fear, and her neck and sides frothed with sweat. Desperate to gain control, Mariel fought to stay upon her seat, but Tell-Tale screeched and bucked violently, throwing her rider to the ground. In that moment, Mariel feared she would be trampled to death under the stamping hooves. But Tell-Tale settled the instant Mariel hit the ground beside her, her high stepping gentling to stillness.

  “Oh, Tell-Tale! You naughty girl!” Mariel chided, pulling her bruised and battered bottom upright. “Oh no!” she cried out, discovering that her left ankle would not support her. “Now look what you've done! Your spooking has left me a mess!”

  Tell-Tale listened to her reprimand in ignorance, nearing to nuzzle Mariel's head and nickering softly.

  “I think we've had enough excitement for one afternoon. Let's go home.”

  But the mare refused to let her mount, growing fearful and agitated at each attempt Mariel made to gain her seat.

  “What's wrong, love? Is something hurting you?”

  Lifting the saddle blankets, Mariel discovered the reason for Tell-Tale's behavior. Three thorns had punctured her flesh.

  “Oh! Poor girl!” she cooed.

  Mariel was unable to remove the deeply imbedded barbs.

  “We will have to take care of these at home,” she admitted, abandoning her efforts.

  Managing at last to find a way to hobble toward home, Mariel had plenty of time to plan the few, choice words for the careless stable hand who had readied her horse's tack and gear. Hours later, she crested the final stretch.

  Gervase rode out to meet her as soon as he spotted her approach.

  “Where have you been? We were readying to come looking...” His expression darkened. “Why are you limping? What happened?”

  He jumped from Daegon's back and rushed to her.

  “I am sorry to have worried you. I've had a bit of an accident, but I will be fine.”

  “Could you not gain your saddle?” he questioned.

  “No, look,” she raised the blanket, exposing Tell-Tale's wounds, “I was unable to remove them, and I hurt my ankle when she threw me...”

  “You were thrown? Mariel! You could have been killed!”

  “I'm perfectly fine. It wasn't that bad.”

  He lifted her in his arms and placed her atop Daegon, causing a pained cry to escape her as her bruised bottom landed in the saddle.

  “You are far from fine, Mariel,” he said, his voice edgy.

  Gervase swung up behind her, but instead of urging his horse toward home, he grasped her tightly in his arms in prolonged silence.

  “Let me get you home, sweetling,” he said after releasing the potent embrace.

  Every movement sent pain shooting through her hind end, and when they entered the inner courtyard, Gervase lifted her gently from the saddle. Barking orders for the horses to be seen to and giving a vehement reprimand to the stable boys, he carried her to their chamber and laid her on the bed. Carefully, he removed her clothing, inspecting the damage to her body. Already, the purple and black bruises showed on her flesh, and Gervase tenderly placed his hand on her bottom. When he spoke, his voice was thick with emotion.

  “Nothing appears to be broken. I was so worried that...”

  He could not give voice to his tormented thoughts.

  “My lord, I do not wish to see you upset. They are only bruises. In a few days, I will be as good as new and able to ride...”

  “No!” he bellowed, “You will only ride when I am with you!”

  The harshness left him then, and he gathered her to himself.

  “I won't lose you.”

  His agonizing declaration moved her deeply, and she did not argue with him. It was not the admission of love she longed to hear, but it was enough. For now.

  Chapter 7

  Slowly, Mariel's body healed. The inactivity of recovery, however, left her mind agitated and restless. Edward and Elizabeth came often, breaking up the dullness of her confinement within the castle. At last she could endure no more sitting, sewing, or stillness and invited Elizabeth to wander the castle with her.

  “We could explore the north side apartment!” Mariel suggested. “I can sit idly no longer. Maude told me there's a wonderful sitting room and a trunk with old gowns and things that belonged to Lady Anne.”

  “Oh goodness! I could not think to disturb the old Mistress' things,” her sister-in-law declared theatrically.

  “Say you'll come, Elizabeth! It will be fun.”

  Elizabeth protested a little longer before agreeing to join her with a hint of reluctance, but wearing a smile.

  “It will provide us a diversion for the afternoon.”

  Mariel, eager to employ their time with action led the way. The apartment, now used for storage, had housed Gervase's mother, Lady Anne Daltrey. Entering the forgotten sitting room, Mariel saw that a door on each end of the room opened into two separate chambers.

  “This would make an excellent nursery. Would you not agree, Lady Elizabeth? The nurse could stay in the center room, remaining close to the children.”

  “It would, indeed,” Elizabeth agreed. “Do you hint that our son, James, is to welcome a cousin soon?”

  “No,” Mariel laughed. “Not just yet. I've scarcely been married three months!”

  “Well, if I were in your position,” Elizabeth warned, “I'd not rest until I had produced an heir.”

  “Really, Lady Elizabeth! I believe you worry too much for me.”

  Elizabeth wore a wary expression.

  “Has the Baron questioned you as to whether you carry yet?”

  “He has not mentioned it once. Do not keep up your fretting, sister.”

  “But I fear for you, Lady Mariel! If you do not produce an heir, of what use are you to the Baron? Your accidents are most suspicious. You must agree. I only wish for your well being.”

  Mariel was troubled at her sister-in-la
w's nervous state over this issue. She feared that her own naivete would lead her to react wrongly to the woman's warning and advice. And her accidents were suspicious. The accident with Tell-Tale was by far the worst, but Mariel had nearly fallen down the stairs twice recently, also. First, a rolled linen was laying near the step edge at the top, and in the dark she had tripped over it. The second time, the heel of her slipper had broken just before she descended. Thankfully she'd been able to break her fall with her arms and avoided toppling down the stone stairs.

  “I had better go to see to my James. Edmond mentioned that he wants to depart for home early today. Will you be all right up here alone, Lady Mariel?”

  “Certainly so,” Mariel declared. “I want to open the trunk in the bedchamber. I wonder what is to be found in such a lovely box.”

  Elizabeth disappeared, leaving Mariel to her curious investigations. Lost in the joy of discovering the beautiful gowns and embroidered linens, she started as she realized it was growing quite dark. Thinking to return the next day, Mariel relinquished her treasures, pleased to have had her attention occupied so pleasantly. She pushed the main door to the hallway, but it would not open. Again she tried, but with the same result.

  “Bother!” she uttered under her breath. “What am I to do now?”

  One more attempt proved her suspicions. The door must have latched accidentally from the outside. Slumping upon the chair, she wondered what was to be done, brightening at once.

  The torch!

  Someone would see the torch burning in the hallway and come to investigate how it had gotten there. Mariel moved the chair close to the door to wait for a sound outside. Surely she'd be missed before long.

  * * *

  Gervase cursed into the night. Hadn't he forbidden her to ride without him?

  Tell-Tale had been found wandering the moors more than two hours ago, yet no sign of his wife could be discovered. Swanson, Drakes, and St. John continued the search until darkness made it impossible to go on.

  “We will resume again at first light, my lord,” Swanson spoke, the finality of hope in his words. “I've ordered torches to be lit and attended through the night as a beacon...”

  “I will not abandon her to the darkness,” Gervase insisted, his voice strained and harsh.

  “We are more likely to get our mounts injured than to find the Lady in this black night.”

  Gervase knew the wisdom of his man's words. Tearing across the land, sick with worry of dread, he determined to organize a party to search on foot.

  Heaven help his wife when he found her...

  If he found her, he corrected himself. His anger at Mariel's defiance raged.

  “Gather two parties of men,” Gervase boomed, riding into the outer courtyard. “We depart within the half-hour.”

  Sliding from his warhorse, the Baron of Ayleshind splashed cool water on his face from the bucket at the stable entrance.

  “Shall I unsaddle him, my lord?” the skinny lad with the hawk's eye asked.

  “Go ahead, lad. See to him tonight with extra care.”

  “I will, my lord,” the youth stated.

  He turned to begin his work, hesitated, and faced Gervase again.

  “May I speak, my lord?”

  Gervase eyed the boy sharply.

  “Speak up.”

  “I've been in the stables all day, my lord. Lady Mariel never set foot in here if you ask me.”

  “What do you mean?” Gervase asked curiously, remembering the boy's previous keen observations.

  “Pardon my saying so, but it's my job to know who's been here. And I haven't seen her. Besides, the Lady always takes carrots with her for Tell-Tale. Look! The sack still hangs on the peg.”

  “Maybe in her haste she forgot it,” Gervase reasoned.

  “If you say so, my lord. But if she was in that much of a rush, why did she close Tell-Tale's stall door, the stable door, and the outer courtyard door behind her?”

  The young man's insight roiled in Gervase's thoughts.

  “Boy, this is the second time your eyes have done me service. Tell no one else what you know of my wife's habits. From now on, I want to know every person that comes and goes from these stables. Do I make myself clear?”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  Gervase remained in thought a moment, weighing the significance of the new knowledge.

  “Master Daltrey...”

  Gervase looked back at the lad.

  “Do you think the Mistress strong enough to have lifted her gear from the top pegs?” the boy's brow was furrowed deeply, his young skin creasing with worry. “Even I have a time of it.”

  The Baron of Ayleshind felt the hairs on his neck prickle.

  “No, lad. I do not.”

  From across the courtyard Maude's call cut sharply through the night.

  “Master Daltrey! We've found the Lady!”

  * * *

  “Edith! That is quite enough. It was an accident – of sorts. No harm done,” Mariel assured her maid again. “I am only thankful you happened upon me when you did. Else, I may have had to spend the night locked in the dark.”

  “Oh, Lady!” Edith fretted on. “If that torch had not gone out when it fell to the floor...,” she shuddered, “you would have burned...”

  Seeing Edith's distress, Mariel's heart softened with affection, and she hugged her maid.

  “What were you doing in the north apartments?” Gervase's voice, stern and rough, filled the kitchen as he strode in from the courtyard, Maude on his heels.

  “I am sorry to have worried you all. Elizabeth and I had been exploring the rooms. When she left, the door must have latched, locking me in.”

  Gervase looked intently at Maude and Edith, who here hovering around his wife.

  “How did you come to find my wife?” he trained his gaze on Edith, suspicious after his discoveries in the stable.

  “I heard her, Baron Daltrey.”

  “I kept calling for help, and thank goodness someone finally heard me!”

  Lifting her into his arms and heading for their rooms, Gervase halted at Maude's censure.

  “Master Daltrey, the Lady has not been able to eat or drink since early this day. Perhaps she is hungry.”

  “Send food and drink to the solar after a bath is prepared,” he commanded before retreating with his wife, unwilling to trust his ability to cage his emotions any longer.

  Immersed in the heated water, Mariel sighed in contented relief.

  “I will be more careful. I promise.”

  “I want you to have a companion at all times. Do I make myself clear?”

  The seriousness of his tone affected her greatly.

  “If it will please you, my lord, I will do as you ask.”

  “It will please me, Mariel.”

  His eyes followed her movements as she pulled on a clean chemise and climbed into the bed. He joined her, sliding against her and curling around her protectively. In the quiet dark, he finally spoke.

  “I feared I had lost you today.”

  * * *

  He would not be diverted from his plan.

  “My wife will accompany me. Circumstances prevent me from leaving her, Swanson.”

  A long ride could bring on a pounding headache, my lord. Is the Mistress up for it after her injury?”

  “She will have to be, I fear. After this latest accident, I do not want to take any chances.”

  Days ago, as his wife had walked the outer courtyard with her maid, a rock had fallen from one of the Pele towers, gashing her head and rendering her unconscious for a spell. This latest accident introduced a strong foreboding even in his wife's lighthearted cheerfulness as it became more difficult to dismiss the compelling evidence that someone meant her harm.

  Gervase believed the stone had been dropped purposefully - but by whom or even why remained a mystery.

  “I understand your concerns, Daltrey, but our business is pressing. And dangerous. Lady Mariel's presence will be a distraction,” Swanson
admitted honestly.

  Shutting down the notorious inn run by Anne Cauchon was paramount to stopping the organization of border raids by the Scottish bandit, Duncan the Red. Duncan had eluded capture, defying logic until Gervase had unearthed the reason for his luck. The voluptuous and bawdy Anne Cauchon was feeding him information while keeping Duncan's secrets.

  That was about to end.

  * * *

  Pausing to straighten her dress, Mariel hesitated, the words of her husband filling her ears with the hum of his deep voice. Their message, once heard, chilled her to the bone.

  “Taking my wife along will afford me the perfect ruse for my trip to town. My presence will excite no more attention than a man traveling with his wife. I will be able to dispatch the lady quietly and continue without raising suspicions on myself. She will not be missed.”

  Mariel fled to the privacy of her chambers, her mind reeling at the implications the cold words suggested.

  Of what Lady did her husband speak? Could the man she loved be conspiring to dispatch her?

  Unaware that he had been overheard, Gervase continued inside the meeting room with his man.

  “I will accomplish our task while keeping my wife out of danger.”

  “And what do you mean to do with Cauchon?”

  “That lady will be taking a journey to the Continent, Swanson. Her purse will be full enough for a fresh start.” Gervase laughed dryly. “I cannot think of a better act of revenge against the men of France.”

  Swanson grinned in conspirator's satisfaction.

  “Nor can I.”

  “If luck leads us to Duncan the Red, we will take care of him, but without the wily Anne helping him, I believe the authorities will have him before long,” Gervase added.

  “I will see to the preparations for our journey,” Swanson stated.

  “I have my own preparations to make,” the Baron uttered, walking away.

  * * *

  Mariel's heart and mind failed to meet in truce, continuing to war within her viciously as the carriage rolled away from Ayleshind. She could make no sense of the conflicting facts. With her own ears she had heard the sinister plan uttered by her Baron, yet he hovered about her with an undeniably genuine concern. It was at his insistence that Edith accompany them to town, his imperative that Edith agreed to be ever at her side. If he meant to rid himself of her, surely the task would be easier to carry out with her maid left behind. Again her mind returned to Gervase's words.