“So, you’re awake at last,” Merrick observed in his low, deep growl of a voice. “About time, too.”
A little dizzy, Ranulf struggled to sit up, hissing at the sharp pain in his side as he moved and the stitched flesh protested. “Where’s Bea?”
Merrick raised a brow. “You mean my ward, Lady Beatrice?”
“Yes. Where is she? Was she hurt?”
“Beatrice is fine,” Merrick replied, to Ranulf’s vast relief. “A little bruised, perhaps, and her feet were cut, but otherwise, she is quite well. Indeed, her capacity to talk at length remains undiminished.”
“Where is she?”
“I thought you’d appreciate some peace and quiet, although it took quite an effort to make her leave your chamber. She didn’t want to go even after Constance had seen to your side—you tore the stitches open—and the cut on your cheek and assured her about fifty times you weren’t going to die. Meanwhile, so my wife informs me, Maloren kept moaning in the corner about how wrong she’d been about you and if you died, it would be some sort of judgment on her. How she reached that remarkable conclusion, neither Constance nor I can fathom.”
Why did Merrick have to pick such a time to be loquacious? “Where is Bea?”
“Sleeping, I hope. The poor girl was completely exhausted. I suspect Constance gave her something tomakeher sleep, or she likely would have kept talking until she dropped, telling us about the murders and the smugglers and who was guilty and what happened.” He tilted his head to study Ranulf. “You look very happy for a man who’s got to be in considerable pain.”
Ranulf hoisted himself a bit more upright, in spite of the agony. “What of Wenna and her baby?”
“They are well, too. Apparently Wenna might not have been had Beatrice not been brought aboard that ship when she was.”
Merrick shifted, grimaced and glanced down at his left leg, which Ranulf realized was still splinted and wrapped.
“Aren’t we a fine pair?” the lord of Tregellas observed with a roguish gleam in his dark eyes. “All we need is Henry with his ruined face to complete the picture.”
“How did you get here? Bea said you weren’t supposed to ride.”
“I came in a wagon and, please God, never again. I felt like a feeble old man.”
“At least you haven’t made the mistakes I have. God’s blood, I was a fool, Merrick. I trusted Myghal and—”
“We can discuss your shortcomings as castellan later. I’m sure Sir Leonard will have a few things to say, as well.”
“You’re going to write to him about this?”
“No need, since he’s sitting in your hall.”
“No, I’m not,” a familiar voice growled from the doorway.
Sir Leonard himself stood on the threshold. His back was still straight as a lance and his expression not unlike the one Ranulf well remembered from the day he’d demanded to train with Sir Leonard de Brissy. The only noticeable change was that their mentor’s hair was now snow-white.
“And a fine thing I discover when I travel here,” Sir Leonard declared as he strode into the bedchamber. “You fighting a sea battle? Good God Almighty, I thought young Merrick here had lost his mind when he told me.”
“I had to rescue Lady Beatrice,” Ranulf answered, knowing Sir Leonard would have done the same thing. He struggled to sit up straighter. “Have you met her?”
“Couldn’t help it. She jumped me like an assassin when she found out who I was.” He smirked, but there was laughter lurking in the wise old eyes. “Affectionate girl, I must say.”
“She’s wonderful and I love her and if Merrick will give us his permission, we want to be married,” Ranulf replied, speaking nearly as breathlessly as Bea at her most enthused.
Sir Leonard’s bushy white brows rose as he looked from Ranulf to Merrick.
“I gathered from certain cryptic remarks the lady made to my wife that something like that was in the offing,” Merrick observed. Then he smiled, and a very satisfied smile it was. “About bloody time, I must say. Constance was beginning to fear you’d never ask for her. I’ve had to listen to her expound on the subject several times when I’d much rather we were doing other things.”
Ranulf flushed. “How did she know—?”
“Women’s intuition, I suppose, or some other mysterious process known only to their sex.” Merrick shrugged. “She’s been convinced you and Beatrice should marry for months. Why else do you think we sent Beatrice here?”
Sir Leonard chuckled and crossed his still powerful arms. “A conspiracy, eh?”
