The Merchant's Daughter (27 page)

Sir Clement came to within inches of her chair. “Answer!”

Annabel shuddered, staring up at the towering figure.

“Sir Clement!” Lord le Wyse’s voice was as loud as the coroner’s. He quickly closed the distance between them and stood glowering at the man, his hands clenched by his sides. “Get away from her.”

Chapter
14

Her heart pounded. O God, don’t let Lord le
Wyse endanger himself because of me!
Surely he wouldn’t strike the king’s coroner, though the two men stood nose to nose. After interminable minutes, Sir Clement took a step away from Lord le Wyse and turned back to Annabel. Her lord took a step back as well, relaxing his fists, but his face was flushed and he continued to scowl dangerously at the coroner.

Sir Clement focused on Annabel. “Did you see the bailiff in the forest?” His voice held a dead sort of calm that sent a chill up her arms and across her shoulders.

She closed her eyes briefly then replied, “Yes.”

“Did you strike him with a rock?”

“No.”

“Did Lord le Wyse strike him?”

Annabel drew back in horror. “No!”

Lord le Wyse slumped back two more steps, and she met his eye.

“How do you know Lord le Wyse didn’t strike him? You saw who struck him, didn’t you?”

She realized her mouth was hanging open and closed it, looking down.

“You saw!”

Stephen’s face flashed before her; she had to protect him. No matter what Sir Clement said or did, her lips would remain closed and her teeth tightly clenched.

Silence pressed in around her, but she didn’t dare look up.

“Then it was Lord le Wyse, wasn’t it? He was defending you.”

Annabel’s head shot up without her willing it. Her throat tightened and her tongue clung to the roof of her mouth. How could he accuse Lord le Wyse? And how could she keep silent?

The coroner is a fiend.

“Nay.” Her voice was raspy. She tried to swallow, but her throat had gone dry. “Lord le Wyse is a good man. He would never hurt anyone.” Tears pricked her eyes again, she didn’t know why. She glanced at her lord and saw his face was flushed. The urge to jump up and go to him was so strong that she grabbed the stool she was sitting on with both hands and clutched the rough wood with all her might.

“So the person who almost killed the bailiff was not a good man?”

“I didn’t say that. Oh, how would I know?” Annabel bit her lip, feeling she had slipped and said the wrong thing. But she couldn’t let the coroner think Lord le Wyse was guilty.

Sir Clement rubbed his chin again, staring blankly at the wall. “You must understand, Lord le Wyse’s involvement makes sense. After all, he’s the one who found the body. It’s only a matter of time before the people of Glynval start pointing fingers in his direction …” He let his voice trail off.

His words chilled her. Naturally, some people might suspect her lord. Few had seen beyond his scars and rough demeanor to the man inside. But everyone knew the bailiff, and he seemed well liked, though she couldn’t imagine why. If they knew how Tom atte Water actually behaved … How could she allow people to accuse Lord le Wyse?

Her mind went back to the first time he allowed her to read his Bible. And when he’d burned himself saving the ewe lamb, how her heart had gone out to him; and he’d borne his injury with such patience, never complaining. How could she allow anyone to falsely accuse him? She couldn’t bear the thought of him being hurt again.

“Lord le Wyse is innocent.”

“The only way you can prove that is to tell me who struck the bailiff.”

“I cannot tell you that.”

“Then I cannot be sure your Lord le Wyse is innocent, can I?” The coroner began pacing toward Ranulf, intent in his eyes.

“It … was an accident.”

The coroner turned abruptly. “So you did see it. What happened?”

Annabel pressed her lips together so hard she tasted blood.

“Did you want to kill him?”

“No!”

“Who did?”

“He didn’t mean to do it.” Her voice was a whisper.

“Who was it?” the coroner hissed.

“I will not tell you. But he never intended to kill him.”

“Perhaps you will tell the jury that is being summoned by the hundred bailiff. Hmm?” He raised his eyebrows at her, and a slight smile lifted his thin lips.

He then turned to Lord le Wyse. “I think I’ll take a walk. I shall return shortly, and then I’d like to speak with this Maud, the bailiff’s daughter.”

The coroner brushed by Lord le Wyse, whistling as he flung open the door and disappeared outside.

So it was over — for the moment. She had revealed so much! Too much. The coroner now knew that she had seen who struck the bailiff. How could she have allowed him to wrench that much of the truth from her? But at least she hadn’t betrayed Stephen — not yet. She would still have to face a jury and the entire village of Glynval.

Her hands shook. The shattered look on her lord’s face squeezed her heart. Was he angry that she had not revealed the identity of the person who struck the bailiff? After all, she was allowing suspicion to fall on him — the jury was sure to accuse Lord le Wyse as Sir Clement had. She had the power to clear her lord’s name forever, but she had chosen to protect someone else.

Her chest ached. She couldn’t bear to think she had hurt him, or that he might be angry with her.

Her words came out halting and slow. “I am — so sorry. Pray — forgive me.”

“Forgive you?” His brow creased.

“For not telling — who — struck the bailiff.”

Lord le Wyse let out a shuddering breath and passed his palm across his eyes. He looked at her with so much sympathy, he seemed to draw her to him.

Annabel slipped her trembling fingers into his large, warm hand, and he gently pulled her to her feet. “I forgive you,” he said, “and I understand.”

Without thinking, she leaned against him, pressing her forehead against his shoulder. They stood like that, unmoving, while Annabel concentrated on calming her breathing and forcing away the tears that still threatened. She smelled the familiar lavender, which Mistress Eustacia placed inside his clean laundry, but also a warm, masculine smell that was distinctly Ranulf’s. She felt soothed, safe, and she never wanted this moment to end.

Ranulf stared down at Annabel’s tearstained face. He closed his eyes against the sight of her, savoring the feel of her hand in his.

His eyes flicked wide as he felt her body lean against his.
Sweet agony.
He hesitated to touch her, but finally he put his arms around her and drew in a deep, ragged breath. “Holy saints above,” he whispered.

“Jesus, help us,” she murmured in reply, no doubt sincerely praying about their situation.

He felt her relax against him, taking deep breaths, one hand hanging onto his shoulder. Her eyes were closed, her lips slightly parted as she rested against him.

She suddenly dropped her hand from his shoulder and pulled away.

He loosened his hold but was reluctant to let her go. Her
eyes flicked nervously from his face to the floor. She muttered, “Forgive me. My behavior is … unseemly.”

“No, not at all.” He cupped her elbows in his hands to keep her from turning away from him.

Annabel stared up into his face. Her cheeks blushed red. “I must go.”

She turned and practically ran from him.

Grateful to find the undercroft empty, Annabel flung herself onto her bed.

It was the worst morning of her life. By accusing Lord le Wyse, the coroner had wrung much more information from her than she’d been willing to give. Sitting alone now, she wondered if the vile man had mentioned her lord only to trick her. Annabel wrapped her arms around herself, still feeling Lord le Wyse’s warmth.
I touched him. I pressed my forehead against his shoulder. What must he think of me?
She wouldn’t have done it if he hadn’t looked at her the way he did. But she had wanted to be in his arms. In fact, she had wanted it … and enjoyed it … far too much.

While she had stood, soothed by the rhythm of his beating heart against her ear, she had remembered the way Lord le Wyse had tried to defend her from Sir Clement’s harassing questions. The thought had stirred her heart and caused her breath to hitch in her throat.

When she looked up at Lord le Wyse, something about his expression — seeking, tender, intense — caused something to ignite deep inside her. The feeling intensified when she realized she enjoyed his comfort, enjoyed being close to him.

And that terrified her.

She knew with all certainty that it wasn’t the way a servant should feel toward her lord. Her heart was still pounding from the effect of it. Was she as bad as Beatrice?

“O God, send me away. Send me away to a nunnery, please. I want to get away from here, from this turmoil. Save me from
the coroner, and don’t let me betray poor Stephen. O God, send me away. I’m so confused.”

Maud’s surly attitude toward Sir Clement infuriated Ranulf. She mumbled her answers, glared openly, and all but accused Ranulf of attempting to murder her father, though she gave no proof for her assertions. He’d apparently made an enemy of the maiden when he spurned her late-night offers.

Maud sat stiffly. Sir Clement asked, “Did your father have any enemies?”

“Nay, everyone admired my father. He was friendly with everyone.”

What would Maud do if she found out what her father had done to Annabel? Or even that Annabel knew who struck her father? He prayed that Sir Clement would keep that small piece of information to himself. But why should he? The jury would need to know all the facts they could get in order to decide whom, if anyone, to accuse in the attack on the bailiff, and then everyone would know the facts. And that Annabel had hid them.

His breath shallowed at this new thought.

Annabel was not safe. He had to get her out of Glynval altogether. And soon.

Maud glared at him from across the room. The coroner was asking her something, but her eyes were locked on Ranulf, her expression overflowing with hatred. One thing was now clear: if Maud found out Annabel had actually seen what happened to her father but was refusing to tell, she’d rip her apart with her fingernails.