by Anne Herries
‘I thought you could not be ill for Agnes was afraid to speak. Why have you disobeyed Sir Robert’s command?’
‘I do not wish to dine with him.’
‘Stop this foolishness and come down at once,’ Lady Gifford said, and her eyes glinted with annoyance. ‘You are a stupid girl and will make him angry—and we must remember that we are all at his mercy. Thus far he has treated us well, but he could make us suffer if he wished. You have no idea of what might happen if we give him cause for anger. If you knew what beasts men can be…I have seen women raped and men killed, my home burned to the ground when I was but a child. I became the King’s ward and married a strong man, because I was determined that what happened to my mother would not happen to me—or my son.’
Melissa faced her proudly. ‘Do you not think I have suffered enough? My father killed my mother when she was still recovering from my birth—and he hated me, losing no opportunity to humiliate me whenever he could. Until I was old enough to marry, he hit me and sent me to my chamber for the smallest of faults.’
‘Then you should have learned,’ Lady Gifford said, her mouth hard. ‘A woman may persuade with gentle smiles and her body where she may not command. I have learned to keep a soft voice and bowed head, and because of that I won back my father’s lands from a king’s hands. But now my husband has been sent to London where he will no doubt be imprisoned in the Tower, and I am free of him at last. All I care for now is my son—and his inheritance.’
‘I am not as you, madam,’ Melissa said. ‘I shall not smile when I am angry and I shall not beg for scraps of any man!’
‘Then you will deserve all you get,’ Lady Gifford snapped. ‘But do as you are told and come down or the rest of us may suffer in your place!’
Melissa looked at her, a stubborn expression on her face. She did not wish to give in to her cousin’s wife, and yet she knew that she spoke truly. A sigh escaped her, because it was not she alone that might suffer for her disobedience. She did not care what happened to her, but she could not risk harm to others.
‘Very well, I shall come for your sake,’ she said reluctantly. ‘I suppose we must do as he says.’
‘Yes, we must,’ Lady Gifford said. ‘For my part I hope to win freedom for my son and myself. I do not think that Gifford will abide by the promise he has given to surrender to the King—and I do not wish my son to be made a ward of the Crown and spend his life imprisoned somewhere. Robert of Melford is a fair and honest man. I know that the scar he bears is enough to send shivers down the spine, but if he speaks for us we may receive justice.’
‘You think that the scar is ugly?’ Melissa asked, because it had not occurred to her that others would see it that way. For herself she saw only the pain that he had suffered for her sake. ‘I hardly see it.’
‘It is not so noticeable when he turns his head,’ Lady Gifford said. ‘But I suspect it pains him at times. I would not dare to speak of it to his face.’
‘Yes, I am certain of it. It was his reward for daring to ask for me in marriage.’
‘Melissa! No wonder he looks so angry when he speaks of you.’ Lady Gifford was horrified. ‘You must not risk angering him further. Come down and smile at him, Melissa.’
‘I cannot promise to smile for him,’ Melissa said. ‘But I shall come as you bid me. I would not bring harm to you or others.’
As she entered the great hall, where trestle tables had been set up for dining, she was aware that most eyes were turned on her. She looked straight ahead as she walked up to the high table, where she could see that Rob was sitting. He rose to his feet as she approached, his gaze narrowed as it dwelled on her.
She made a defiant curtsey to him. ‘I am come, sir, as my aunt bids me.’
Rob nodded, and for a moment there was a flicker of a smile in his eyes. She had clearly come reluctantly. She had lost none of her pride, though it seemed that she had been kept almost a prisoner here. She had refused to be betrothed to Leominster and had kept to her bed for several days in defiance of her cousin’s demands. He had learned this much from the steward Hale, who had seemed only too pleased to offer his allegiance and could not hide his relief that his former master was on his way to the Tower. It would seem that Owain was right and she had been reluctant to marry.
There was some dispute as to whether the betrothal had gone ahead or not. It did not matter. He had made up his mind. She would never be allowed to be Leominster’s wife in truth.
‘I see that you are come,’ he replied, his smile fading as he gestured to the place at his left hand. Lady Gifford had taken her seat at his right, and Melissa had no choice but to do as he bid her. ‘As I bid you, lady. Remember that it is my bidding that matters here.’
Melissa set her mouth stubbornly. She gave him a furious look but made no further comment. He could believe what he pleased. She did not care. He was not the kind, gentle, man that she had thought him, and she would not bow to his will easily. She had been a fool to give her heart to him, and she would cease to pine for what might have been.
Rob made the signal and the servants began to carry in the platters of food. Spit-roasted capons, beef and a mess of belly pork and onions were accompanied by a dish of preserved plums and bacon. Bread trenchers were provided at the lower tables, though at the high board they were served on pewter plates. Small wooden bowls filled with scented water and napkins of English linen were placed to hand, for they ate with a knife and their fingers. A custard of eggs and bread sweetened with honey and dried fruits and a syllabub followed, together with a quince tart. All of it was washed down with quantities of ale or a rough red wine that Melissa found unpalatable unless sweetened with honey.
She ate very little, for the food seemed to stick in her throat. The men seemed in a merry mood and there was much laughter and some coarse jokes from farther down the hall, which might have made her blush had she been near enough to hear them.
Rob looked at her as she sat stiffly at his side. ‘Is the food not to your taste, lady?’
‘The food is very well, but I do not feel hungry,’ Melissa said.
‘Drink your wine.’
‘I do not like wine, unless it has been sweetened—and this has not.’
‘Why did you not say so?’ Rob raised his hand, summoning one of the servants. ‘Bring some sweetened wine for the lady Melissa.’
She glanced at him as the servant bowed and went off to fetch it. ‘Thank you, but it was not necessary, a little watered ale would have done as well.’
‘You are used to mead I doubt not,’ Rob said. ‘We drink it at home and it is much nicer than this…’ He sipped the wine from his own cup and made a face. ‘Your cousin had little taste in wine, lady. I think he did not pay much attention to the preference of ladies.’
‘I hardly knew my father’s cousin until I came here,’ Melissa said, eyes flashing. ‘But I have not found that men care for the opinion of ladies often in anything.’
‘No?’ Rob raised his brows. He turned to look at her. ‘You must have been unlucky in the men you knew, lady. My mother was adored and given everything my father had it in his power to give her. Her wish was his command, and when she died his heart went with her to the grave.’
‘Then she was fortunate, indeed,’ Melissa said, and lowered her eyes.
‘Yes, I believe she thought so,’ Rob said, a little pensive, eyes seeming to look inward and not at her. ‘My father never forgot her, even though she died long before he did…’
‘He must have loved her very much?’ Melissa studied his face, seeing that the harshness she had come to fear was absent, his eyes warmer than she had witnessed of late. Did he know that his father’s wife was the cause of the quarrel between his father and hers? That it was the reason he bore the scars of her half brother’s torture? ‘I fear that my mother was not as fortunate.’
‘No, I have heard that she was badly treated,’ Rob said, and his expression softened, because he knew that it must have hurt her to learn of her mother�
�s cruel death. ‘It was a terrible thing and I am sorry for it.’
‘You knew that she was murdered?’
‘Your kinswoman, Alanna Davies, told me of it.’
‘You have seen Alanna? Do you know where she resides?’
‘Yes, but it would not help you to seek sanctuary there, lady,’ Rob said, frowning again. ‘Henry has taken over your guardianship, and will wish to see you when you leave here.’
‘Am I to be his prisoner now?’
‘Perhaps. For the moment your fate lies in my hands and I have not decided what it shall be…’
‘Then I must wait upon your will, must I not?’ She felt her cheeks growing warm for she knew that he was watching her. Was he trying to read her thoughts? She prayed that he could not, for she did not wish to be an open book to him.
‘Here is your wine. I hope it is more to your taste.’ He turned his head and began to speak with Lady Gifford. Melissa looked at his face. She saw that his scar looked red and puckered, and realised that it was still tender for the colour was livid. It must have been so painful when it was done! Her heart ached for him, tears catching at her throat. He became aware of her scrutiny and turned to look at her once more. ‘It is ugly and you are sickened by the sight. Is that why you do not eat?’
‘Does it hurt very much?’ Melissa asked and she wanted to reach out to touch it, but dared not. ‘It looks as if it has been infected again. Have you no healing salves to ease it?’
‘It does not hurt as it did,’ Rob said. ‘Megan will see to it when I am home again. It does not matter. Try your wine, lady.’
Melissa sipped it and nodded. ‘That is much better, thank you.’
Rob looked at her for a moment. ‘I have decided that you may move freely within the grounds, Melissa, though you may not leave them without my permission. We have secured the walls and there is no reason why you should not do much as you please.’
‘I should like to help my aunt,’ Melissa said. ‘A house like this needs a great deal of management—and with so many extra mouths to feed we shall need more supplies of fresh meat.’
‘You will make someone a good wife,’ Rob said, and his mouth softened into a smile. ‘Help Lady Gifford if it pleases you. I intend to stay here some days.’
‘And what will you do with me when you move on?’
Rob’s gaze narrowed. ‘Are you anxious to journey home—or to the house of your betrothed?’
‘I have nowhere to go, unless Alanna would take me in—or the nuns, as I asked you,’ Melissa said. ‘My half brother would not welcome me beneath his roof nor should I wish for it—and I have no betrothed.’
‘Surely the contract your father signed makes you Leominster’s property, whether or not the betrothal actually happened.’
‘It is not for others to decide,’ Melissa said. ‘Am I not a ward of the King? You have just said it—and Owain told me that you had asked that Henry Tudor take charge of my estates. Why did you do that, sir?’
Rob was silent for a moment, then, ‘I do not know, lady. Perhaps I thought to have them and you for myself.’
‘Why should you wish for that?’ she asked, looking into his face as she searched for the truth, and found nothing. ‘If you believe that I betrayed you to my father, you must hate me?’
Rob smiled ruefully, ‘Why indeed? It was a foolish whim, no more. Yet it protects you for the moment. Henry is too busy to give you or your estates much thought just yet. There is time enough to decide what should become of you.’
Melissa inclined her head. Her heart was aching, for it seemed that he was no different from any other man. He had protected her lands because he coveted them himself. If he decided he would wed her, it would be for advancement not for love of her—and she had thought him above such considerations. And yet what else should she expect? He might have killed her and taken them for himself. Perhaps she should be grateful that he had shown restraint—and yet she was hurt and angry. How could he shrug like that? As if those walks in a sunlit meadow had never been. Had he forgotten the days when they had lain together in the soft grass, touching and kissing and speaking of the day they were wed?
He had never gone beyond the bounds of chivalry, but sometimes she had wished that he had…Perhaps if she had truly belonged to him he would have refused to take his dismissal, he would have known that she would never say such terrible things to him unless she was forced. He ought to have known it! She felt a return of the anger that had sustained her earlier. He blamed her for his injuries—but he was not blameless. He must surely have known of the quarrel between his father and hers, but she had known nothing. If he had told her, she would never have encouraged him to come alone and unarmed to ask for her hand.
She raised her head proudly. ‘May I go to my chamber now, sir? I am not hungry and my head aches.’
It was her heart that ached but she could not tell him that, for her pride would not allow it.
‘Go then,’ Rob said, seeing that her face was pale. He knew that she was distressed, and that it was his fault, but he did not know how to behave towards her. There was a part of him that longed to believe her innocent—that wanted to make her his own and never let her go—but a warning note in his head kept telling him that she was not to be trusted.
How could she look on a man so fearfully scarred with anything but disgust or loathing? Even if she had cared for him once—if her brother had lied to deceive him—she could surely not feel anything now? And that meant that her words of concern were false…and yet she had seemed to mean them. Her eyes had been moist with tears, her voice broken with emotion.
Damn her and all her kind! She was not to be trusted. She had nearly destroyed him once, he would be a fool to let her inside his defences again.
Rob lifted his wine and drank deeply from it. The taste was strong and not to his liking. He thrust it aside and drank from Melissa’s cup, his lips touching where hers had been. He felt a sudden, sweeping pain and knew that he wanted her despite all, needed to hold her in his arms and taste the sweetness of her lips—and yet still his stubborn nature would not let him go after her.
He would not beg her to love him. He would have cherished her above all women, but now there was a barrier between them—a wall built of pain and pride and he did not have the courage to break it down. For if she guessed that he still wanted—still desired—her, despite all, she might laugh at him. At best she would shudder when he touched her, drew her to him in bed—and that would hurt far more than all that had gone before it.
He pushed the cup away and asked for ale. Perhaps if he drank enough of it he could forget her and the hurt look in her eyes.
Rob knew that he had drunk too much as he went up the stairs that night. He wanted Melissa. He had tried to remember his duty—that he had not yet finished the work he had begun for Henry Tudor, but nothing seemed to matter except this burning need inside him. He could think only of her lips, her sweetness and the softness of her body as he’d held her close to him when they rode through the forest on his horse the day he saved her from those rogues. He remembered her when they first met. He had seen her standing alone by the stream, such a wistful look on her face that his heart had gone out to her. He had dismounted from his horse, going to stand by her side, as she gazed into the clear water.
‘Why so sad, lady? Is there anything I can do to help you?’
She had turned to him then, meeting his eyes in wonder, seeming surprised that he had spoken to her so softly, and then she had smiled. Rob had fallen in love with her in that instant, for it was like seeing the sun break through the clouds.
‘I was thinking that I should like to walk into the stream for it must be so cool and the day is hot.’
‘Why don’t you?’ he had asked. ‘I will turn my back while you remove your hose, lady.’
‘But I might fall and then…’ She shook her head. ‘It was just a foolish whim.’
‘You shall not fall, for I shall be there to hold your hand and you will be saf
e.’
Melissa had looked at him with those wonderfully deep eyes of hers for a moment, and then she had taken his hand. ‘Yes, I shall be safe if you are there to hold me,’ she said. She had been so trusting, so innocent and lovely…
Was all that false and what came after true? His thoughts were in turmoil, muddled by the wine and ale so that he could not tell what was true and what false.
He ran his forefinger over the hard welt of puckered skin on his cheek. The scar would grow less livid in time, but it would never fade entirely; it would always be there to remind him—and her.
Why should he not take what he wanted? He was the master here. He could make her do his bidding, take what he needed from her and then discard her. It was what most men would do in his situation.
His feet seemed to have a will of their own as he found himself walking in the direction of her chamber. Yet outside the door, he paused, the sensible side of his brain telling him to seek his own bed and sleep off the effects of the wine. His desire held him glued to the floor outside her door, and then he was lifting the latch, going through the outer chamber where her woman lay snoring.
He crept silently past her, lifting the latch of Melissa’s door carefully and pushing it back to slip inside. A small candle had been left burning on the chest to one side of her bed. He frowned for such practice could be dangerous and if there were a fire she might be burned in her slumber, because she was sleeping. He put out the tiny flame between his fingers and moved nearer to the bed. There was just enough light coming through the window to see her as she lay there, one hand under her cheek.
For a moment he was tempted to lay down by her side, to take her into his arms and love her, but he smothered the urge. His head had cooled a little on seeing her, and he knew that it would be a base thing to take her unawares as she rested. He was about to turn away when she gave a start and opened her eyes.
‘Who is it?’ she asked. ‘Agnes, is that you? What are you doing in my room?’
