Her Dark Baron

by Nadja Notariani

  I will be able to dispatch the lady quietly...

  Her quiet, contemplative mood garnered her husband's attention.

  “Mariel,” he whispered into her ear, “have I pushed you too hard with our traveling so soon after your injury?”

  Rallying herself, Mariel allowed the smile, her first of the day, to brighten her face.

  “No, my lord. In spite of a bit of tiredness I am looking forward to the sights I am sure to see.”

  “Do you have any pain? Maude sent the herbal satchels with Edith. I will see to it that a draught is steeped when we stop.”

  How would she ever reconcile the two halves of this man?

  Caring and attentive as he was in their private moments, she could think no ill of him. Her soft laughter preceded her answer.

  “I am tolerably well, thank you. Although I admit that I remain careful of touching my head still.”

  His arm wrapped around her shoulder, pulling her against his side.

  “Rest awhile, sweetling.”

  Edith's low snore assured she was napping. Still, his show of affection surprised her, delighted her. Leaning against his solidness, she thought only of the pleasure of being next to him and drifted into her dreams.

  The lack of movement unsettled her from sleep. Blinking her eyes open, Mariel slowly regained her bearings.

  “We've stopped?” she wondered groggily, looking up at Gervase in a bewildered haze.

  He moved to exit the carriage. A few seconds of waiting produced her husband's grim countenance.

  “It seems that Edmond and Elizabeth are traveling to town as well,” he stated flatly, obviously unhappy.

  Mariel could only wonder at his displeasure.

  Chapter 8

  The strong breeze only served to invigorate Mariel as she soaked in the sights of the bustling street. Flushed with pleasure, her cheeks radiated the joy in her heart at her present happiness. She'd never imagined having such an adventure.

  Gervase had disappeared mysteriously in the middle of the previous night, creeping back into their bed only an hour before dawn. Mariel had pretended to sleep, but her senses were on alert for any hint that her husband had spent the night with the mistress Elizabeth repeatedly insisted that he kept.

  Not wanting to believe it true, she desperately hoped her husband would do something that would offer relief from her tormented thoughts. Remaining perfectly still as he eased into the trussed up feather bed, she relished the moment he curled around her body and clasped her against himself, inhaling deeply of her scent. In spite of herself, she nestled into his embrace, a small hum of contented ease escaping her lips. He stroked her hair gently, lulling her into a haze of sleepy relaxation.

  “Ah, sweetling,” he whispered into the darkness, unaware of her half-wakeful state, “If ever you discover how great is your power over me, I will be undone.”

  Her Baron's unintentional confession danced pleasurably along the fringes of her thoughts, intensifying her present enjoyment of the new day now before her.

  “Your mount? Where are we to visit that we cannot walk?” Mariel questioned, curious to know more.

  “You would not care to walk so far, I assure you, Lady.” His dark eyes glinted, knowing he evaded her question deftly. “It will be worth the time.”

  “You will not tell me?” she wondered, eyes pleading for a hint.

  “It is to remain a surprise for a little longer,” he said, lifting her onto Daegon's back.

  Mariel beamed, her skin aglow in the merriment of this mystery.

  “Will we be back in time for our evening meal with Edmond and Lady Elizabeth?”

  Gervase chuckled softly, swinging up onto the steed and settling behind her. The hair stood on her flesh as he murmured against her ear.

  “I would prefer that we dine alone in our room, sweetling.”

  Mariel smiled her teasing answer.

  “I heartily agree with your preference, my lord. But the unhappy task of extricating ourselves from Edmond's dinner invitation will be left to your most capable hands.”

  Leaning closer still, his voice thrummed through her.

  “My most capable hands, Lady, are wont for more pleasant deeds.”

  Mariel blushed prettily despite knowing his words traveled no further than her ears. His easy manner and laughter bolstered her heart's conviction that whatever darkness edged his life – it held no importance between them. Still, she pondered the implications of his quiet brooding over the last week. Brooding that had vanished overnight.

  Overnight!

  Where had he gone last night? Was that what – or who – had soothed him?

  Perhaps that is the lady he wished to dispatch. Her mind created possibilities to explain his words to Swanson. Maybe he was eased at seeing his mistress. Or maybe he had ended their relationship. She sighed. There was no way to know...

  She twisted upon the mount to study his face.

  “My lord, I beg leave to ask you...,” but the words caught in her throat, preventing her continuation as she fought back the tears which suddenly threatened to spill.

  Gervase, concerned at her sudden seriousness answered gently, “You have my leave, Mariel.”

  The silence as she collected her bearing hinted at the depth of her emotion, and when she felt able to give voice to her fears through the asking, it was with a meek and unsteady tone.

  “When you left our bed last night, to where did you go?”

  Her blue eyes rose to meet his stare, hoping to see an answer in his gaze. But his guarded expression gave no clear reply.

  Dark eyes intense, he responded with a question of his own, but his tone was tender.

  “Why do you ask me, Mariel?”

  Mariel lowered her eyes, cheeks aflame in humility.

  “I ask, my lord, because...because I cannot help but notice that wherever you went offered a comfort that I have failed to give you, and lifted the burden you've carried in your heart all week.”

  Her voice broke at the admission, loosing a tiny sob from her lips. The lonely path away from town afforded privacy enough, and Gervase gathered the reins in one hand, the other fitting snugly around her waist.

  The Baron of Ayleshind wrestled to formulate a satisfactory response. Vaguely amused at his naïve wife's belief that any woman would willingly consent to be his mistress and simultaneously suspicious of where such an idea originated, he made her a reply.

  “I must disappoint your hopes of gaining an answer of my location last night. Forgive me that, sweetling. But I bid you be secure that I've no need – nor desire – for any other in my bed. My mood is merely reflective of the settling of a long overdue reckoning.”

  Bidding farewell to Anne Cauchon as she boarded the French sailing vessel had taken a weight off his shoulders that he could not explain to his wife, no matter how he wished to be able to unburden her heart. It would have to be enough to know that northern England was a safer place because of his actions – or would be as soon as Duncan the Red was arrested.

  His intonation left her no clue as to his feelings about her bold question.

  Gervase drew on Daegon's reins, halting alongside a shady grove. Dismounting, he beckoned her to join him as they stopped in rest.

  “Now, Mariel, tell me who planted such thoughts in your mind.”

  “You think me too dull to come up with it on my own?” she huffed, her wounded pride augmenting her skin's rosiness and sharpening the glimmer in her blue eyes.

  Gervase chuckled, causing her to bristle further as he pulled her to the ground with him.

  “No, sweetling. I merely know your habit of thinking the best of me – even in the face of overwhelming evidence to the contrary.”

  His eyes penetrated her as she looked up from beneath him on the ground. It was the first time he had made mention of what had passed that stormy, menacing night. Today, the memory was distant, the sky glowing blue, the clouds floating in harmless whimsy across the bright expanse.

  Recognizing
that the way before her presented a choice, that she could not walk in trust while remaining in doubt, Mariel chose her path with faithfulness. She would not look back, her love urging her to selfless surrender.

  “Tell me, Mariel,” Gervase repeated, drawing her from her thoughts. “Who sows fear and unrest in your heart?”

  His gaze remained fixed upon her, intense and commanding, but his hand caressed her face with a gentleness of touch that broke through every thought of mistrust.

  “Elizabeth,” she whispered, relieved at truth's freeing power.

  “I see,” he murmured in reply before cupping her face in his palms and brushing his lips across hers. “Why did you not speak to me of this?”

  With trembling and humility, Mariel confessed all that Elizabeth had confided in her, ridding her heart of the heavy burden it carried.

  “Gervase, I could not bring myself to believe it, yet I cannot deny how great my anxiety rose when you left our bed – especially after I had heard your words to Swanson. Can you forgive me for doubting you?”

  “Mariel,” he avowed with great emotion, “in your doubt you have believed in me more than others who claim trust. But you must not keep anything from me in the future. Do you understand?”

  She nodded.

  “Very well, then. I believe you are in danger, and I know not who to trust.”

  “Who would have reason to hurt me?” Mariel wondered, failing to find an acceptable answer to the question herself.

  “I do not yet know, sweetling, but I will discover the truth. My suspicions return time and again to Baron Flanders, but there is still some piece of the puzzle that my mind cannot fit in.”

  “Gervase,” she shuddered, “I am afraid.”

  He wrapped her tightly in his arms.

  “I will move both heaven and earth to keep you from harm, Mariel. Be on your guard, but do not coddle fear. Now that I am convinced there is some nefarious plan against us, I will leave no stone unturned until the drafter of this evil is lifeless by my hand.”

  The violence of his words melted into nothingness as he lowered his lips in a gentle brush against her forehead.

  “And as for Lady Elizabeth...,” Gervase began.

  Mariel raised her finger to his lips.

  “Hush, my lord,” she said with a wry smile. “I've been humbled enough for this day. Please don't speak of her folly – or of my own.”

  Her eyes showed her remorse, yet sparkled with mischief, and Gervase was awed anew at her resilient nature. After just confessing her fears, she sought to make sport of herself. Truly she fascinated him, for the light in her soul illuminated his world. Considering the disaster that had been avoided by her honesty and willingness to trust him, Gervase Daltrey vowed to uncover the mystery threatening their future.

  * * *

  The weight of the ruby-eyed silver wolf rested heavily against her chest, connected by dainty silver links to each corner of her shawl. Beautifully crafted, Mariel wore it proudly, the image of the ferocious hound no longer conjuring terror within her, but highlighting a sense of belonging and protection. This gift was the surprise she had tried in vain to guess at earlier in the day.

  The hellish hound, a symbol of her husband's dark history and of Ayleshind now gracing her skin, spoke to Mariel the depth of their bond. Her husband, in gifting it to her, acknowledged his belief that they were truly united, that his title and reputation carried consequence, that he would share both the good and bad of it with her. By wearing it, she proved that she accepted all that he was.

  Her arm rested upon his as they entered the inn, Elizabeth and Edmond already seated at a table to the left. The hard stares pressed upon her, focused upon the sign of Hell's Hound she wore, and grew in number as they passed the tables toward their own.

  To break the tension she sensed in her husband's tightening grip, Mariel leaned and whispered with smiling lips, “My lord, if they only knew how you indulge me, I'm afraid your fearsome reputation would be ruined.”

  His expression remained harsh, but his eyes softened on hers a moment, and the faint hint of a smile played at the corners of his mouth.

  “Fear not, husband. Your secret is safe with me.”

  Wrapping her arm more snugly around his and smiling up at him, Mariel could make out the hushed conversations sparking up behind them. Before she had chance to wonder at their content, Gervase leaned to her ear.

  “I believe you captivate their attention, Mariel. They know not what to think now that the devil's wife smiles.”

  Mariel's smile faded.

  “Why can they not assume the best – that we are happy and content?”

  Her troubled expression prompted Gervase to smooth his hand over hers in a discreet show of affection.

  “My lady, that simplicity denies them the morbid entertainment their black hearts live for. Do not allow yourself to be troubled over it.”

  Edmond rose, greeting them in a formal display, ending their conversation on the matter.

  “We were beginning to worry!” Elizabeth exclaimed in censure at their late arrival. “It grows darker by the minute...Oh, Mariel!” her gasp hung in the air, her eyes fixed on the ruby-eyed hell-hound holding her shawl closed. “What a frightful piece of jewelry!”

  Gervase settled his wife before taking his seat.

  “Why, Lady Elizabeth, surely you recognize the symbol of Ayleshind! It is a fearsome beast, but see how well-crafted it is. The Baron had it made for me.”

  Elizabeth glanced at the snarling, silver faced wolf with discomfited disdain a moment, turning the conversation to suit her taste.

  “Edmond took me to the dressmakers today. I've two beautiful, new gowns being prepared! They are the newest fashions, of course.”

  At this, Edmond, who sat across from her, leaned in and spoke in whispers to Gervase. Elizabeth continued to prattle on about her new purchases in the background as the shifting dynamic of her husband's countenance held Mariel's interest. Whatever Edward had said displeased Gervase, who replied in sharp tones and now listened with disinterest as his brother made an unsuccessful attempt at appeasement.

  Most anxious to know what had passed between the men, Mariel resigned herself to enduring the lengthy dining that would delay her discovery. The table was filled with roasted meat and freshly baked bread along with a root vegetable stew, and Mariel wondered if Edith would enjoy the same meal in the kitchen.

  “Mariel, are you feeling well. You look pale,” Gervase questioned quietly, leaning close to her and away from his brother.

  “My lord, I would appreciate an herbal draught for my head. It is paining me this eve.”

  “Perhaps I over exerted you with our trip, Mariel. Are you well enough to remain for the meal?”

  Audible concern laced his questions.

  “One of Maude's warm brews will surely...”

  “Oh, sweet Mariel!” Elizabeth interjected. “I'll see to it myself immediately. Ever putting on a cheerful face while you suffer. Sit tight and allow me to see to it.”

  After hovering and fussing longer than necessary, Elizabeth bustled to the kitchen in search of Edith. Edmond initiated conversation on benign topics, Gervase reluctantly participating until Elizabeth returned with a flourish, announcing that Edith would brew the herbal at once.

  Listening to Edmond and his wife's endless chatter, Mariel felt the weight of her husband's gaze upon her with such intensity as to bring a rosy blush to her face. By the time Edith arrived bearing the draught, Mariel had not the heart to confess that her headache had waned. Instead, she accepted the brew with a thankful smile. Sipping her warm herbal as the meal progressed, Mariel drifted into contented languor, suddenly aware that her limbs grew heavy and eyes dimmed. The flicker of lamplight mesmerized, and she eased against the chair, relaxed and blissfully pain free.

  “Mariel...Mariel!”

  Insistence behind the sounds marred the deep, rich tones rolling from Gervase's lips.

  “Mariel!”

  Sharpe
r now. Harsh and desperate. She preferred his softer, sultry speaking.

  Jostled, warm in his arms, his spicy scent strong and comforting. Mariel thought to share with him her pleasure, but the heaviness overwhelmed, and she sank into the oblivion of darkness that folded around her.

  Chapter 9

  “I do not know!” the maid cried, her plump shoulders shaking under the fresh breaking sobs.

  “Who was in the kitchen while you prepared the herbal?” Gervase demanded.

  He paced the length of the hall, dragging his hand through his dark hair in agitated impatience.

  “I steeped the draught in this kettle,” Edith showed him, “over this fire,” again demonstrating her actions. “No one touched it, my lord. I sat in the chair waiting the whole time; I wanted not to delay my lady's relief.”

  Gervase's hard eyes bore into her flesh, no accusation spoken aloud.

  Yet.

  Edith cried harder.

  “My lord! You cannot think I'd ever harm a hair on Lady Mariel's head! I raised her like my own child,” the woman sobbed.

  Gervase did not, in all honesty, but the woman insisted that no hand but her own tended Mariel's herbal. Elizabeth's shrill voice cut the tense silence.

  “She surely lies, Baron Daltrey! She served our dear, dear, Mariel the poisoned draught that threatens her life!”

  The words wrenched a pitiful sob from the old nurse's throat.

  “No! I could never commit such evil!”

  “Enough!” Gervase roared.

  His mind strove to unravel the perplexity, for once, his quick instinct failing him, and a sickening taunt filled his thoughts.

  You did not protect her.

  Turning to Elizabeth, he focused his questioning on her.

  “You left Mariel alone? What would possess you to leave her?”