The Protector (25 page)

“I will handle her. She will not deny your will.”

The King handed over the parchment.

Morvan took it and left the chamber. He paused in the passage beyond, and leaned against the cool stones of its wall.

That thing inside him that had tried to soar yesterday finally burst free of its restraints.

* * *

Christiana and David were breaking their fast in the hall when Morvan arrived at their house. He sat down to join them.

“No popinjays here yet?” he asked.

Christiana rolled her eyes. “Seven in all came yesterday. Like locusts they descend. I expect it to be worse today.”

He ate some bread and washed it down with ale. “Where is she?”

“Still asleep. She waited up with me for David to come home and is probably exhausted from yesterday.”

“Aye. So many suitors. It must be tiring.”

“Morvan—”

“It is all right, sister.” He got to his feet. “Well, off to battle.”

“Aye, and I see that you plan to give no quarter. The red pourpoint was a good choice. Draws attention to those damn eyes of yours,” David said.

“I thought so.”

“Do you want us to leave and clear the servants from the house so that you can seduce her in peace?”

“David!” Christiana gasped.

“I trust it won't come to that, but if so I will be discreet. You might stay off the second level.”

“Morvan!”

He gave his sister's wide-eyed face a little pat before leaving the room.

He mounted the stairs and opened the door to her chamber. In the dim light from the shuttered window he saw her sleeping on the bed, the covers pulled up to her chin. He reached down and gently pushed away a curl that hung over her nose.

Within an hour she would be his. He had no doubt how
this morning would end. It had been fated from that first day when she opened the door to the longhouse and appeared to him in the halo of the afternoon sun. He had been led to her and she had been waiting for him, and they had both been spared from the plague so that they would have each other. Perhaps angels had been involved after all.

She was an unusual woman, and he admired her. She had briefly managed to create and lead the life that she wanted, and that was something even few men achieved. Yesterday she had fought to save that life. But it could not go on. The King had made that clear this morning. As Ascanio had once said, unique circumstances had permitted it, demanded it. In a world torn apart by war and plague, she had found herself. But it had been, in her own words, an interlude.

A part of him regretted that he would be the agent that ended that interlude, but she was better off with him than with someone else. Another man would either break her or be ruled by her. In either case, she would be in danger.

She would not have the strength this morning to be as cold as yesterday, he was certain. It was not in her nature and not in their bond, and, after all, one could only wear such heavy armor so long. Eventually she would submit to his reasoning, would accept his bargain, and she would never know that if she had stood firm he would have given her everything she asked for. Except Saint Meen. Once she was his, he would never let her leave him.

He shook her shoulder. “Awake, Anna. Come into the solar. We will speak now.”

She waited until he had gone before rising from the bed and wrapping the robe around her. Dragging her fingers
through her snarled curls, she looked down at her long body wrapped in the overlarge green garment. So much for the lessons in negotiation he had once given her. Well, if any man knew what he was getting in her, it was Morvan.

She did not expect an outright rejection. He probably would not have come himself for that. He planned to bargain.

When he had left yesterday, she'd realized that any chance of getting all she wanted went out the door with him. If victory were to be hers, it would have come immediately. In a matter of hours, she had lost the advantage.

He stood by the window behind the desk, wearing a red pourpoint and high boots and looking beautiful in the sun's morning light. Her heart lurched at the sight of him, and she remembered the reassurance she had given Ascanio that night he found them together.
I will not live out my life in some foolish jongleur's song, pining for a man who does not want me.
Yet that was exactly what she was asking for now, was it not? At Saint Meen there would have been time and distance to heal the pain, but in marriage it would be a scar reopened daily.

She padded her bare feet over to the chair by the fire, sat with her legs drawn up under her, and waited. He picked up the King's list from the desk and came over to her.

“There are five names. Have you met any of them?”

“Several. One seemed quite decent.”

“Most of these men are well known for various scandals. There is no choice here, Anna. The King sought to beat you at your game. Only Sir Giles is suitable. Edward expected you to be told this.”

“Perhaps the King is wiser than I thought. Perhaps his choice should be mine.”

“Aye, it should be, and not Sir Giles. Edward has
changed his mind.” He tossed the list into the fire. The flames jumped and quickly consumed it. “There is a new list. A very short one.” He handed her the new parchment.

She read the King's firm statement of command, and the name of the man he had chosen. “Only you this time.”

“Only me.”

“You went to him. You asked for this, to place me at a disadvantage. Why did he agree?”

“He has a debt to me.”

“So I have been bartered and made powerless in order to repay a debt. And to salve your pride. My horses are left with more dignity. Yesterday I offered to share my bread with you, but you have found a way to gobble it all. I will not agree to this. I will tell the King that I accept Sir Giles if necessary. If your King changed his mind once, he will change it again.” She turned her gaze away. “You may go. I am done speaking of this with you.”

He was in front of her suddenly, lifting her chin with his hand, forcing her to look up at him. “Hear me well, Anna. That is the
last
time that you will dismiss me.”

“Aye, because if I have my way, this will be the last time that I
see
you.”

“You will not have your way. You will marry the man of Edward's choosing, or he will deal harshly with you. Be glad that man is me.”

“I cannot imagine why that news should hearten me.”

“Because I know that you are not a saint, or a witch, or mad. And because I am willing to bargain with you, despite the King's command.”

“I doubt that the terms will be generous.”

“Generous enough, but if you insist on being willful, we can marry without them. Because we will marry, Anna, or the King will put you away with the duke's mother.”

Her throat tightened. She searched his expression for a sign that the threat was an idle one, but saw only stern honesty.

“I suppose I should at least hear these terms,” she muttered.

He moved another chair and sat beside her. “I offer you something that you did not ask for yesterday. Brittany herself. Sir Giles holds lands in England. Not only will he not negotiate with you at all, but he will just appoint a seneschal to your lands. You may never see your home again. If you refuse to marry at all, you can be sure that you will not.”

“And if you someday once again have lands in England?”

“If I return here, it will be your choice whether to come.”

She had not thought to ask for this concession. She wondered what she would have to lose to pay for it.

“I am also willing to accept the written contract as you described it, and your provisions for Catherine and Josce and the others on the estate.”

Now they were down to it. “And the rest?”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “The lands near Rennes will be yours, but the income derives to me until you are widowed. I will hold it for you, and give it to you as you request unless I think your judgment ill advised. And the choice of retiring to Saint Meen while I live will not be yours. However, if after six years you are still set on it, we will talk.”

Six years. It was a long time, but she had expected complete refusal on this point; it was embarrassing for a man to have his wife leave him thus. Still, for six years she would have to watch him go to his women.

“You must know that your last two conditions are unacceptable
. The issue of children is up to God, but a marriage that is not consummated can be challenged. I will not risk that.”

“People fake the proof, I am told.”

He looked amused at that. “To hide a woman's previous experience. But a fowl's blood on the sheets will not suffice in your case. You are still a virgin.”

“Who would know? You have my word—”

“If there are no children, it might be suspected. A simple examination would confirm it. Josce could decide to challenge the marriage. Gurwant could abduct you and learn the truth.” He looked to the fire. “You might meet another man and try to end the marriage yourself. Of course, I would kill him before it got to that.”

A heavy knot formed in her stomach. She would have to suffer the humiliation of Reading all over again, only this time with him determined to surmount his reaction while she knew what he truly felt. Perhaps, if the room was very dark, like the garden arbor …

“And after the marriage is consummated? After there is sufficient proof ?”

“If you are determined not to have children I will not thwart you. If you refuse me, I will never force you.”

She had his word now. Giving up the prospect of children couldn't be easy for him, she knew, no matter how dutiful he would find the process of making them with her.

“Well,” she said dully, “I suppose I can manage one night.”

“Aye. I think I can get us through that. But, Anna, that is the only right as your husband that I will compromise. There can be only one lord on the estate. I cannot have you wild and free, separate from my control, undermining my authority.”

“As you undermined mine.”

“I cannot be worrying about your safety every day.”

She glared at him. “I told you when we first met that I would not change myself to please a husband.”

“And I told you once never to look at a man thus while you negotiated with him,” he replied. “You must accept me as your lord and submit to me as such. Do you accept that?”

The very word “submit” rankled her. She need not give in on this. She could spurn him and petition the King to find another. In time, without any negotiations, she might have all that she wanted.

He rose and bent over her, then turned her face to him, until her eyes had to meet his. She would not close them and give him the satisfaction of knowing his effect, but meeting his sparkling gaze was its own defeat, and the familiar mesmerization dazed her.

His lips touched hers in a kiss that managed to be gentle and possessive at the same time, a kiss that despite her defenses and her hurt, despite his arrogance of two nights before, wrapped her spirit in invisible arms.

“Our talk has been all of land and rights, Anna, but there is another reason for you to make this marriage. You know me as you will never know another man. What we shared in that shelter was a rare thing.” He kissed her again—a chaste kiss, but full of his will and power and the intimacy that he spoke of. She was, as always, defenseless against it.

He had been using that spell against her from the start, with this end in mind. She believed that, but still fell under his power once more.

“Come to the desk and write to the King,” he said, lifting her by the hand. He slid his arm around her shoulders
and guided her toward the table. “I will deliver your acceptance myself.”

Morvan carried Anna's letter back to the King. Edward, no doubt feeling relieved of the burden of his old oath, insisted they share some wine and even related a few stories about Morvan's father. Finally taking his leave, Morvan made his way back to Anna.

He found her in the small garden behind the house, surrounded by the bare branches and gnarled stumps of winter. The only green was a vine that ran along the ground and up a stark trunk, and she was crouched down examining it, her fingers poking in the dirt to see how it grew. She rose as he approached, dusting the dirt from her hands.

Smudges of soil dotted her nose. Her golden curls, longer now than when they first met, fell with their wild abandon about her shoulders. He felt an exhilarating joy at knowing that she belonged to him now. He doubted that possessing Harclow again would affect him as powerfully.

He gazed at her lovely face, drawn with worry. Reaching out, he brushed the smudge from her nose.

“It is done.”

T
HREE MEN LUGGED IN
the heavy round tub and placed it by the fire. Other servants began bringing in buckets of hot water. Anna watched from a stool by the hearth, pulled her big robe around her more tightly, and wiped the sleep from her eyes.

Over on her bed a group of women chatted and caught up on news and gossip. Ruth and Catherine entered with the wedding gown and laid it out amongst them. They all fell to examining the green velvet and fashionable cut that had been designed and started in England and completed by her own servants.