by Laura Parker
Suddenly Merlyn understood what she was about to say and his heart contracted in sympathy for the shame he saw in her bright eyes. Nicholas had told him the truth, but he had not believed it.
“It was only the last of his many cruelties. I’d learned early in life that any resistance met with the power of my father’s knotty hand.” Cassandra winced, but the moment passed quickly. “When the Briarcliffe carriage halted before the auction block I thought it must be a golden angel who emerged. Nicholas bought me for a hundred gold sovereigns, and I loved him for it. Lord! I’d have gone with Satan himself had he possessed a hundred sovereigns. So, there you have it. I didn’t wonder when my golden knight insisted upon an immediate marriage. But I’ve learned many things this past year, and all of them prove me to be the grandest fool ever born. So I say to you again: Nicholas stands between us because I’m legally wed.” Her chin wobbled, but she kept her eyes wide upon unshed tears. “It’s all the pride that’s left me.”
If she expected sympathy she was disappointed. Merlyn crossed his legs and sat down, reaching for a second piece of pastry. Suddenly he looked up, a full grin on his tan face. “I like you better for telling me that. It’s a hard world for the weak. It’s harder yet for a woman. You’ve been harshly used. There’s no denying it. But you’ve come through it, Cassie, with heart and head intact and a fine young son to boot. You’re a survivor. That’s more than many can say.”
The devastating warmth of his smile took away her shame, and like a flower turning its lovely face to the strong bright sun, Cassandra felt her cheeks bloom with color under his flattery. He had not offered her pretty phrases of pity or laughed in her face, and he might have done either. She sat down beside him, her stomach grumbling with the suddenness of her returned appetite.
“There’s one thing more,” Merlyn said when he’d watched her chew and swallow several mouthfuls. He took her left hand in his and slid the emerald and sapphire ring back on the third finger. “You should know the truth, Cassie, and the truth is, I feel no guilt in having bedded you, for, truly, you’re my wife in fact, if not by the letter of the law. You’ll wear my ring, and we’ll speak no more of thieves and mistresses and adultery.” He raised her hand to give it a brief kiss just below his ring and then released it.
Cassandra did not trust her voice for some time. He had called her his wife. Did she wish that were true? Adam, then, would have a father, and she’d be free of the marquess and the threat he brought.
She stole a surreptitious glance at Merlyn as he sat beside her. Inner laughter curved his hard mouth, and the shadows of his powerful shoulders danced a jaunty jig on the ground behind him. In moments like these, she could almost believe he might love her. If only that were so! But Merlyn Ross of the wicked smile and the wizard’s gaze of emerald and sapphire was a thief, a man who felt no compunction in relieving other men of their hard-earned goods. Such a man was unpredictable. Such a man could steal her heart, and that would leave her nothing at all.
“I will keep the ring on one condition,” she said when the last of the ale was gone. “Tomorrow we both go into town to seek our supper. I’ll wager what you will that we can find shelter and supper without stealing them.”
Merlyn leaned back on an elbow, a lazy smile hovering on his lips. “A wager always intrigues me. Winner names the prize.”
The perfection of the day before was but a memory by noon of the following day. Cold gray rain slanted out of the slate sky, turning the roadway into a slick morass. By three in the afternoon Cassandra could hardly bear to put one foot before the other. Rain weighted her gown, plastered hair to her forehead and cheeks, and ran along the ends to dribble icy rills down the inside of her collar.
Merlyn had tucked Adam inside his coat and buttoned it up so that only the boy’s face was visible above the neckline. The babe seemed content with this arrangement. Merlyn’s only complaint came when his shirtfront was suddenly covered in a warm flood.
“Damme!” he cried, his expression a composite of surprise and consternation.
“What’s wrong?” Cassandra demanded irritably, thinking Merlyn was about to shout at her yet again for treading on his heels.
Merlyn turned to face Cassie, who had been following him and using his tall, broad form as protection. “Madame! Your son has drenched me!” he voiced in indignation.
Cassandra tried not to laugh, but it burst from her. Full rich laughter bent her nearly double and she slipped in the slick mud, lost her footing, and fell squarely on her behind.
Merlyn’s lips twitched, a sputter of chuckles escaped, and then he threw back his head and roared. The great noise coming at so close a range frightened Adam into voicing a protest of his own, and though higher than his sire’s, his voice promised to be deep and rich in time.
“Serves you right,” Merlyn admonished when he had regained his composure. Reassuringly patting the small backside under his coat with one hand, he reached out and pulled Cassandra to her feet with his other.
Cassandra pulled the soggy mobcap from her hair and used it to wipe her face. She did not notice Merlyn’s intake of breath at the sight of her. Eyes shining in mirth, the bloom of color bright in her cheeks, her rosy mouth so softly inviting a lover’s sample—she was more beautiful in this moment than any woman he’d ever known. And he knew why. A mantle of fear shrouding her from the instant of their first meeting, bleaching her of humor and the youthful glow that should be hers, had fallen away. The ability to laugh made her beautiful. The thought warmed Merlyn. I shall see that she laughs every day after this, he silently vowed.
The cart appeared quite suddenly on the lane hemmed in by eight-foot hedgerows. Merlyn pulled Cassandra out of its path before noting that the slow clip-clop of the small pony could be easily outpaced.
“Whoa!” the driver called when he was apace of the two figures on the roadway. “Ye should know better’n to take the path in this weather,” the driver scolded them. He set his wide-brimmed hat back from his eyes. “Ye’re for town?”
Cassandra took Adam in her arms, tossed Merlyn a speaking glance, and moved forward to greet the farmer with a genteel smile. “As you see, sir, we are afoot and in wretched condition. For ourselves we do not care, but my son is but three months old and I fear he may suffer a congested chest in such weather.”
Merlyn rolled his eyes at her speech. It held so piteous a false note that he could barely contain his laughter. To his surprise, his feelings were not shared.
“A wee babe, do ye say? Lord bless! ’Tis no day for a wee one, Josh Tinker’s athinkin’. Up ye come, then, lass, and yer babe, too.” He pointed at Merlyn. “That be yer man?”
Cassandra looked back over her shoulder as if she’d forgotten Merlyn existed. “Oh, him. Yes, he’s with us.”
“So,” Cassandra whispered under her breath when the three of them were piled into the back of the wagon with Josh Tinker’s load.
“It’s no proof of the bet,” Merlyn answered as he shifted his shoulders in search of a more comfortable resting place among the canvas-covered barrels. “Get me hot rum and a slice of ham for supper; then we’ll call the bet won.”
The trip by wagon was no quicker than on foot and they were no drier, but Cassandra could not complain when they pulled into the muddy yard of the White Stag Inn. “I think I may be able to walk again tomorrow,” she murmured, stepping down, only to find that her bruised hip had stiffened in the hour following her fall and she had to grab Merlyn’s arm to steady herself.
“Age before beauty,” Merlyn whispered maliciously as he held out his arm to allow her to step ahead.
A moment later a woman appeared in the doorway of the inn, wiping her hands on her long white apron. “At last ye’re home, Tinker. And what have we here?”
The woman stepped over the threshold and Cassandra was immediately reminded of a ship under sail. Yards of dark blue linen made up the skirt that covered amply rolling hips, and white ruffles from the tight sleeves that e
nded at her elbows flared like flags on the yardarms of a ship of the line. There was the look of the brewery about her in the puffy cheeks with raisin eyes.
“You,” the woman said, pointing at Merlyn. “Ye’re lookin’ to earn a wage?”
“Now, missus, ye wouldn’t be askin’ a man o’ me talents to tote barrels o’ rum,” Merlyn replied, mimicking perfectly her accent.
The woman’s eyes screwed up in what Cassandra later learned was an almost permanent squint from nearsightedness. “Who says there’s rum in them barrels? Good English ale, that’s what we’ve got.”
“And I’m King George’s prime minister,” Merlyn countered with a chuckle. “A man can sit just so long in a sea of brew without his nose tellin’ him whether ‘tis English or Indies he’s smellin’. Not that I mind. A toddy o’ rum comes close to heaven on a day like this.”
The woman eyed Merlyn carefully and, liking what she saw, said, “What talents do ye claim—besides a quick tongue?”
Merlyn stepped forward, put his arm about the woman’s shoulders, and whispered something in her ear that Cassandra could not hear. The woman cackled gleefully and walloped Merlyn’s chest with a great paw of a hand. “Away with ye, ye wicked man! Me Josh wouldn’t like it one bit, ye sayin’ them things to his wife.”
Merlyn winked but dropped his arm from her shoulders. “We won’t be tellin’ him, then.” He gave a very stiff Cassandra a sideways glance and then murmured, “Me wife isn’t half pleased herself.”
A look of satisfaction spread over the woman’s features as she, too, noticed the young woman’s posture of disapproval. “She don’t look yer type.”
“So said my father,” Cassandra interjected. Ignoring Merlyn’s raised brows, she continued. “That’s why we’re on the road. Father would not hear of my marriage to a—a cobbler. We’re gentry, he insisted. Even when Jack got me with child he barred the door and had my poor love hounded from the door.” She offered Merlyn a wide, melting glance. “Only a week ago did Jack return and, together, we’ve fled.”
“Poor little lamb, and poor little tyke. Ye should be ashamed,” she scolded Merlyn with a wagging plump finger. “ ’Tis one thing plyin’ your silver tongue on a woman what knows better, but to get a wee slip o’ a girl great with child and no vows said—well, that’s wicked. That’s what it is.”
Merlyn bit his lip to keep from smiling as Mrs. Tinker’s three chins wobbled indignantly. She was an aged tart if ever he saw one. Traces of the pox bridged her nose and chin. “Don’t tax me withal. I’ve married the girl.”
The woman’s gaze went to Cassandra’s left hand and widened in surprise. “That’s a pretty ring ye have there.”
“Her father give it to her,” Merlyn supplied quickly, annoyed that Cassandra had not had the presence of mind to hide so valuable an article. She had a lot to learn about begging.
“ ‘Tis beginning to rain again,” Cassandra hinted gently.
“So it is,” Mrs. Tinker exclaimed. “Well, don’t just dawdle. Ye need a proper meal and the fire to dry ye out.”
Cassandra saw that Merlyn was about to speak and beat him to it. She had promised to win them shelter and food, and she was enjoying herself too much to allow him to win it for her. “We can’t, I’m afraid.” She looked down, drawing the blanket from Adam’s face. “We have no money.”
As if on cue, Adam let loose with a wail of woe.
“Poor wee mite,” the mother of ten cooed. “O’ course ye must come in, if only to warm the babe.”
“Well, perhaps for a moment,” Cassandra answered, reluctance heavy in her voice. “We must find shelter before dark. It’s so difficult with rain hounding us.”
“Doing it too brown, my love,” Merlyn whispered in her ear as he fell into step beside her.
“It’s working,” Cassandra retorted with a lift of her chin.
“Hot rum and ham,” Merlyn reminded her.
The hot rum appeared almost immediately. “The wee girl’s blue to the lips. With a babe to suckle she needs some fire in her blood,” Mrs. Tinker explained as she set the tankard of rum down before Cassandra. “Worked ever’ time, and I suckled ten.” A smaller one she set before Merlyn. “And you, you lusty rascal, she won’t needs bother with you this night if there’s a bellyful of warm brew to dull yer appetite.”
Cassandra switched the mugs when the woman had gone and sat back in her chair before the parlor fire with a saucy smile on her lips.
“You think quite a lot of yourself at the moment,” Merlyn said in good humor.
“Two tankards of hot rum,” Cassandra gloated, holding up a pair of fingers. “And you said people aren’t kind.”
“I know. That’s what bothers me,” Merlyn returned dryly and reached for his drink.
“That’s your trouble. You see evil everywhere,” Cassandra admonished. “Not everyone must have a gain for every service done. Some people are good and give of that goodness to honest people in need.”
Merlyn leaned forward until his lips were within inches of her ear. “My dear young lady, you can hardly call your performance in the yard just now one of unfailing sincerity. ‘Father would not hear of my marriage to a cobbler,’” he aped in her high soft voice. “Gad! And you call me a sham. What difference is there between a lie and outright theft?”
Cassandra’s cheeks flamed scarlet. She hadn’t stopped to consider when her pleas had changed with embellishments to lies, so much was she enjoying herself. She looked up at Merlyn through a forest of dark lashes. “Do you think I should tell them that we have the diamonds?”
Merlyn moved back so quickly he nearly overset his chair. “Feed your son, madame. ’Tis better you not think at all.”
The ham was longer in arriving. It was delivered by Josh Tinker, who was still wheezing from the exertion of emptying his wagon. He was a short, thin man with ruddy cheeks and a great bulbous nose out of which grew amazingly long hairs.
Cassandra’s fascination with this peculiarity prevented her from realizing that she offered the innkeeper an equally fascinating display. It was Merlyn who reached across her and drew the corner of her cloak over her naked breast at which Adam sucked greedily.
“The missus says ye look in need o’ a spot of supper. ’Twas left over after the main meal. We was as like to throw it out in the mornin’.”
Two greedy eyes fell once more on Cassandra’s bosom before he set the plates down beside the half-empty rum tankards. “We got an extra room at the back. We rent it to tinkers and tax men.” The last was said with a wink at Merlyn. It meant that the room was an airless hole with a bolt on the outside. “Ye’re welcome to it.”
“Oh yes. That would be lovely,” Cassandra answered with a wonderful smile for the man.
“Right,” he replied. One small glance below her chin and he was gone.
“My goodness,” Cassandra breathed when he was out of earshot. “I thought he would crawl right down my bodice.”
Merlyn glanced at her. “You’ve a sweet pair, my love,” he said lazily, “but ’twas else that caught the innkeeper’s eye.” He reached out and removed the cloak.
Cassandra glanced down at her bosom and then at her left hand which she used to position her swollen breast for Adam’s ease. “The ring,” she said, looking up at Merlyn.
Merlyn shrugged. “If the night was clear I’d drag you out this minute. As it is …”
Cassandra made a moue. “As it is, you’ve lost your bet. I produced hot rum, and that’s ham bits in the beans. My reward will be—”
Merlyn cut her off with a quick smacking kiss. “Don’t be too eager to claim your reward. There’re some proprieties to which even I prefer to bow.”
“Oh! You!” Cassandra sputtered, but it quickly turned to a giggle. She was too pleased with herself to let anything he said or did alarm her.
An hour later they were shown to the small room. There was nothing in it but a straw mattress which looked bug-ridden. “There’s not e
ven a window,” Cassandra protested under her breath to Merlyn.
Merlyn himself was about to voice a similar complaint when he was suddenly shoved in the back with great force. He saved himself from falling into the room by a grab at the doorjamb. He was not so lucky in saving himself from the expected blow. The full wine bottle caught him just behind the right ear. He heard Cassandra’s scream, but it echoed faintly behind the explosion inside his head. The second blow went wide, glancing off his shoulder. He heard more screams, tightened his grasp on the doorframe, and hauled himself to his feet. Turning, he saw a sight that might have made him laugh had it not nearly stopped his heart in fright.
Cassandra had been slightly ahead of Merlyn when the blow came. The innkeeper had been carrying a bottle, but it had not seemed a weapon until it was too late. The first blow had struck with a sickening thud. She turned to find Merlyn crumpling at her feet and Josh Tinker raising his arm a second time. With a cry of horror, she dropped Adam onto the straw mattress and grabbed the innkeeper’s arm. The blow went wide, and the force of it sent the pair of them to the floor in the hallway.
The innkeeper began bawling curses at her, but Cassandra locked her hands about his waist and hung on for dear life, hampering his attempts to rise.
A moment later they were both hauled upright and the innkeeper peeled away from her. Merlyn dug one hard fist into the man’s belly and a second lifted his chin, forcing him back two steps before he collapsed.
“Are you hurt?” Merlyn demanded of a winded Cassandra, who shook her head. “Grab Adam and come on, then,” he said as he pulled his knife from his boot and took a few steps down the hall. Cassandra snatched up her squawling son and followed.
A moment later, Mrs. Tinker appeared in the kitchen doorway bawling, “Silence the brat, Josh, afore he rouses the guests.” Her look of consternation fell into openmouthed surprise when she saw it was not her husband who stood in the hall. Merlyn took a step toward her, but she gave a cry of fright and slammed the door in his face.
