Roger affected surprise. “Could it be that my exploits are so well known in London? Good God, I hope there are other such scrupulous fathers at court. The more opposition I encounter from the parents, the quicker the spirited lassie falls into my trap.” He winked at Alexandra. “Isn’t that true, love?”
She rose wearily. “You’re welcome to make sport of me behind my back, but I don’t intend to remain here to listen to it. For the trouble I’ve caused you, I’m sincerely sorry. For the patience you’ve shown me until now, I’m grateful. I’ve earned your wrath, I know, but this I promise: never again will I meddle in your life, Roger. I’m going home now. Good-bye.”
Roger did not move from his place on the bench, but it did seem to her that the skin over the knuckles on his un-bandaged hand turned white with some sort of tension. “I’ll wipe the slate clean if you keep that promise.”
“I’ll keep it.”
Their eyes met. He’s trying to tell me something, she thought. Something he can’t say before his father and mine… something infinitely kinder than the rot he’s just produced for their benefit.
He’s glad to be rid of you, her new unblinded self retorted. He hopes to God he never has to put up with your foolishness again.
She turned her back on Roger Trevor and followed Pris Martin from the hall.
Chapter 14
“Merwynna, what am I going to do?”
“Ye will follow yer destiny.”
“They’re intending to force me to marry, as quickly as possible. I don’t know who it will be, but my father has several men in mind. ‘You’ll wed whomever I choose for you,’ he informed me this morning, ‘or finish your days in a convent.’”
“A convent is not a possibility,” Merwynna assured her.
Three days had passed since the confrontations and disclosures in the great hall at Whitcombe Castle. Three bitter, busy days. Early tomorrow morning, Alexandra and her father would leave Westmor to travel to London, where she was to take up residence at court. Douglas had secured for his daughter a position in the queen’s retinue. She was to be a lady-in-waiting, filling the place of a young woman who was leaving her post to be married. Within a year, swore Sir Charles, he would see to it that Alexandra, too, was suitably wed.
In the meantime she was forbidden to have any dealings with Roger Trevor. Both her parents had been adamant on this point. “You’re a fool to believe that platonic friendship persists beyond a certain age,” her father had said. “If you’ve escaped with your virtue intact,” her mother had added, “no doubt ‘tis only because that young devil is accustomed to spending his nights with women whose physical attributes exceed your own.”
Without permission, Alexandra had ridden to Whitcombe Castle to visit Alan this morning before coming to Merwynna. His leg was mending, but he was still in pain. He refused to tell her what he and Roger had fought about that day in the forest. He’d given his word, he said, and scoundrel though his brother was, he intended to keep it.
Secretly Alexandra had hoped to run into Roger at Whitcombe, but she had not. According to Dorcas, Roger had been taking long rides on the moors, wearing out one horse after another. Was he getting along better with his father now that the baron had acquitted him of involvement in Will’s death? No, Dorcas reported sadly. Roger was subdued, but just as caustic as ever. And rumor had it that like Alexandra, he too had been packing his things.
Would she see him again before she left? She looked around the small interior of Merwynna’s cottage where they had spent that wild night together. Did he know she was going to London? Did he care?
She stared at the hearth where the fire had glowed, at the bench where she’d sat drying her hair, at the straw mattress where they had lain together. A sharp pang of desire knifed through her, making her shift restlessly on the bench where she sat sorting herbs with Merwynna. Frequently and without warning her mind would flash back to those sweet minutes in his arms. She had not realized before that her physical desires were so very strong.
“The desires of the body are strong but changeable,” Merwynna told her now, calmly reading Alexandra’s mind. “If ye were somebody else I would advise ye to learn what ye can of lovemaking from this man. Explore the fire in all its heat and golden light. Experience the joy and wonder of yer body with a lover who delights in sensuality. And finally, when yer passion is exhausted, part from him to seek the enduring love of a man more worthy of yer affection.”
“More worthy? I’m the one who’s not worthy of him.”
“Nonsense. What ye tell me of him confirms what I’ve always sensed: Roger Trevor is too caught up in the conflicts of his own soul to be able to love another human being.”
“He told me that himself. Surely if he recognizes his own evils, he is halfway to dispelling them.”
Merwynna shook her head slowly. “Recognition of the evil in one’s own soul only makes life burdensome. I have told ye before, knowledge does not save us, not even self-knowledge. Good does not spring from evil, nor does light shoot upward from the depths of hell.”
Whenever Merwynna talked like this, Alexandra felt irritated and baffled. “What does save us, then?”
“That is something ye must discover for yerself.”
She made a face. “You’re not very helpful today. What do you mean, if I were somebody else you’d advise me to learn lovemaking from Roger? Somebody else like whom?”
“A woman without yer heavy duties and responsibilities. A woman of a lower social order who need not regard her children as the continuance of some vital male bloodline. Even more than poor Pris Martin, ye would be disgraced if ye bore the child of a man who was not yer husband. Ye canna take the risk.”
“That reminds me, Merwynna, before I go to London I think you ought to teach me how one lessens the risk of such a thing.”
The wise woman’s black-pool eyes surveyed her. “Am I to give ye license to engage in behavior that could ruin ye? Ye’re not listening, girl. Ye’re the child of Sir Charles Douglas. Yer rank forbids ye the freedom to indulge in indiscriminate passion.” Her lips twisted in speculation. “Ye want Roger Trevor, do ye not? Ye havna’ given up the hope of having him.”
Alexandra blushed and didn’t answer.
Merwynna looked grave. “There’s no chance of his wedding ye?”
“I’m afraid not. Ever since he returned to Whitcombe, he’s been quite insistent about that.”
“What happened here the other night? Ye say he did not take ye, yet ye are no longer as innocent as before.”
“You mean you cannot work a spell to see exactly what happened? I suppose I should be glad of that.”
“Restrain yer playfulness, my child. ‘Tis no laughing matter.” Merwynna paused to reflect. “It is difficult. I had always intended to prepare ye for yer womanly maturity when the time arrived… to teach ye how ye may delight yer lover, and yerself. Ignorance of such is a great sorrow to women.”
“And you know how I hate to be ignorant.” If she hadn’t been so innocent, she was thinking, she would have known what to do to make Roger forget his qualms and take her.
“Yet now, as we speak, I feel a heaviness come over me. I do not know the cause. I feel myself at a turning point, a nexus o’ possibilities. I must meditate. I might err if I proceed without great care.”
Alexandra leaned forward eagerly. “Merwynna, tell me how I may avoid conceiving a child. That is a thing I fear.”
Merwynna drew herself up to her full height and looked forbidding. “Such secrets are not to be imparted lightly. They’re dangerous, child, and besides, there is no guarantee.”
“I already know which herbs are used to bring on the monthly flux,” Alexandra mused. “The most powerful of these you have refused to allow me to toy with.”
“With reason—they poison both the mother and the child.” Merwynna’s brow contracted as if in pain. Her voice rose in urgency. “Alexandra, I fear for ye. Ye must take care what use ye make of the secrets I have entrusted ye wit
h, the mysteries I have revealed to ye. Perhaps I have erred already. Perhaps it was wrong of me to open my storehouse to one who could never follow in my footsteps. I fear some unhappy consequence. My mind is filled with darkness.”
Alexandra was frightened. Several of Merwynna’s recent prophecies had already come true. She touched the old woman’s hand. “You made me swear you an oath once. Remember? Never for evil, but only for good, I entreat you and serve you, O gods.”
“I remember,” Merwynna said, returning the pressure of her fingers. “The trouble is, do ye know the difference?”
She paused and then repeated, “I must meditate.” A moment later she looked toward the door. “A stranger comes.”
Alexandra had heard nothing, but she knew Merwynna’s powers too well to question them. She rose and went to the door. Outside, making his way along the lakeside, was Roger. “Not a stranger,” she breathed as her body instantly responded with a surge of desire.
“A stranger is anyone whose heart ye do not know. He hides his very well. Has he seen ye?”
“I think not.”
“Return to yer seat, then, and wait.”
Alexandra obeyed, trying to prepare herself for the most painful thing she could imagine: a look on Roger’s face that would confirm to her that he had hoped not to meet her.
A few moments later his shadow filled the doorway. Merwynna had risen to greet him. He paused on the threshold, his eyes fixed on the wisewoman he had known in his youth.
“Do you recognize me?” he asked. “I was a partaker of your hospitality a few nights ago, though you were not at home.”
“I recognize ye, Roger Trevor. Ye wish to consult me on a personal matter? Walk in.”
“I’ve come to leave a message,” Roger corrected her, entering. He saw Alexandra. He smiled. “For a mutual friend,” he went on without missing a beat. “Hello, Alix. I thought you might be here.”
Her nervousness receded, but her consciousness of what had passed between them right here in this room did not. She stared at his tall, lean body, comfortably attired in dark breeches and hose and a loose linen shirt, partially unlaced in the front. She could see the lean muscles of his throat and shoulders. Her longing crested like a wave. If Merwynna had not been there, she could have flung herself into his arms. “I’m going away,” she said.
“I know. I, too.”
“To court?”
“To London. I imagine I’ll end up at court eventually. You’ve been forbidden my company, I understand?”
“On the strength of your well-deserved reputation as a defiler of chastity, yes.”
He was not smiling now. “Although it is possible that we might see each other in London, you need not fear that I will tempt you to disobey your father. Any meetings we have will be public, polite, and eminently proper.”
“Of course,” she said joylessly. She looked beyond him. Merwynna had tactfully vanished. “Is that what you came here to tell me?”
“That, and one or two other things.” He looked around the room, then back at her. Once again the heat ran between them. His eyes darkened and she sensed that he too was remembering. “Come outside. This place disturbs me.”
They walked down to the edge of the lake. Merwynna was nowhere in sight. The afternoon was hazy and warm and the water lapped gently at their feet. Roger picked up a few pebbles and skipped them on the water’s surface with schoolboyish skill. “Pris Martin has disappeared, did you know?”
“What do you mean, disappeared?”
“I went to her farm this morning. Something was bothering me about her story. I wanted her to clarify a few points.”
“What points? It all made perfect sense to me.”
“It scarcely matters. I found no one but an old retainer. The mistress had gone, he informed me. He knew not where, he insisted, but one thing he did know: she would not be back.”
“Heavens. She has no close relatives that I know of, nor any money.”
“Father has given her quite a bit of money recently, it appears. You’d have thought she was his mistress.”
“Poor woman. I suppose she had no choice but to make do as well as she could. It wouldn’t have been easy for her to remain here. She has always been so reserved. How dreadful for her to be exposed in such a manner.”
He shot her a glance. “You feel guilty, don’t you?”
She nodded. “I was blind. I deceived myself about all sorts of things and made a great many people miserable. And all the while I thought I was being so damned clever.”
“You did cause something of an uproar. Still, it’s always better to know the truth, painful though it may be.” He grinned. “Besides, it’s a relief to know that old Will wasn’t as morally upright as he pretended to be.”
“Or Pris Martin either,” she agreed with a smile.
“It’s odd that she should have fled so precipitously,” he went on, looking grave again. “It worries me. Even my father, who has been her confidant for months, knew nothing about her leaving. He’s considerably annoyed. He wanted to gratify his pride by making a few more beneficent gestures toward her, I expect. She was one of the elect of God, after all, and charity begins at home.”
His voice betrayed his continuing hostility toward his father. “He stood up for you,” she reminded him.
“Not until the end. He could have spared everyone a good deal of embarrassment if he had spoken out at the beginning of the bloody inquiry instead of waiting for the grand finale. Worse, now he, along with everybody else, expects me to be grateful.”
“Which you can’t, of course, condescend to be.”
“Don’t start. No more meddling, remember?”
She nodded. “No more meddling.” She watched an egret wheel down over the lake, then rise effortlessly toward the sun. “Was that your message—that Priscilla had gone?”
He reached into his belt and drew out a note. “This was my message.”
She unfolded it and read:
From the Devil to the Queen of Night: Considering the recriminations, it’s a pity we didn’t go ahead and indulge ourselves a bit more, is it not? O Unrewarded Virtue.
“You’re the one who was virtuous, Roger, not I.”
“Usually, I assure you, it’s the other way around.”
The note went on:
No more glum faces, please. I want to remember you laughing, or, better still, defying me with matchless courage in your green eyes and a dagger in your fist.
“That wasn’t courage,” she interrupted once again. “I was terrified. It’s a wonder my legs didn’t cave in.”
“Courage is not for people who feel no fear. They don’t need it, do they? Courage is the determination to look your nemesis in the face, no matter how much you tremble. You’re loaded with it, Alix, and it’s a valuable commodity. If you were a man, I wouldn’t hesitate to ask you to join me.”
“Join you in what?”
There was a fraction of a second’s pause before he replied, “Join my ship’s company, of course, what else?”
She went back to the note. No more meddling.
As for how you remember me, no doubt it will be with far more generosity than I deserve. For all your noble sentiments, I sincerely thank you. And now, my oldest dearest friend, farewell. In future, as I trust you’ll understand, we shall meet as nothing more than casual acquaintances. I will enforce this. Long and bitter soul-searching convinces me that the break between us must be final.
Forgive me, Alix. God bless you.
At the bottom he had scrawled his name.
She took overly long to read it. She was striving for control. “A curious epistle,” she said finally. “The style of the beginning is much at variance with the manner at the end.”
He made no answer. She folded up the note and closed it tightly in her palm, then raised her head, trying once again to summon up the quality he had termed courage. It was not just needed for facing daggers and swords.
“You needn’t say anything more. I
’m not going to argue.”
He hesitated for a moment, then did say something more: “This business of Will’s—it’s upset you. Honest, upright William proved to be false as fog, and now I respond with coldness to your affection for me.” He paused. “It must be very hard.”
‘“One who cannot, one who will not, one who dares not, one who dies,’” Alexandra recited. “I’m not sure which one you are—the second, I imagine. Never mind. It’s my destiny. Unlucky at love, as they say.” Her voice was strained. “Can’t we talk about something else? The weather? Does it rain in London at this time of the year?”
He blew out a harsh breath, making her aware that this was no easier for him than it was for her. “There is something else, actually. Something I could not commit to paper.”
“My curiosity leaps.”
“Your curiosity is precisely the thing I wish to restrain. Listen, Alix. I’ve already been more open with you than I ought to have been, so I’ll tell you something more. I have enemies at court. There are people there who would go to drastic lengths to see my poor body broken on some torturer’s wheel. The last thing I want is for you to acquire my ill-wishers.”
“How could I? If we’re to be such unrelenting strangers…”
“Exactly. One of the reasons I intend to create a gulf between us is to ensure that it never occurs to anybody to look from me to you and purse his nasty lips. But even so, there is a danger. Several things about your story the other day suggest to me that you’ve been nosing about a good deal more than you admit, that for every transgression I’ve caught you in, there’s been at least one I’ve missed, and that you’ve lied to me now and then. Stop trying to look so innocent. I’m not going to press you.
“My purpose is simple: to warn you that whatever you’ve seen, or heard, or guessed about my doings, you must put it so utterly out of your mind that not even the most subtle scorpion at court will be able to sting it out of you. Do you understand? People’s lives—and not just yours and mine—depend upon your silence.”
Linda Barlow Page 19
