She picked up her mending as if the entire unpleasant episode had never happened. “I will go to the convent,” she said quietly. “But no one can force me to take the veil.”
Bella kept her eyes on the needle, poking in and out of the cloth. For a moment she thought he hadn’t heard her. But a surreptitious glance out from under her lashes told her he had. A shiver of trepidation ran down her spine. He was smiling.
Her heart pounded, knowing what was coming. The English held the one weapon that would always defeat her.
“That’s too bad,” he said. Despite the idleness of his tone, Bella sensed the shift in power. Her victories were always short-lived. “I believe Sir John was reconsidering your request.”
Her heart stilled. She tried not to react, but his words tortured her with hope. “The constable has agreed to let me see my daughter?”
Allowing her jailors to know of her desperation to see her daughter had been her biggest mistake. They controlled her behavior by dangling the promise of contact with Joan before her, as if she were a hare with a tasty carrot hanging above its nose.
“Your daughter has no wish to see you.”
She stiffened. Sir John had told her Joan had cut her off years ago, denying all connection with the “Scottish rebel.” Bella lifted her chin. “I refuse to believe that.”
He shrugged his wide shoulders, the slouch of which had always reminded her of an ape. “Too bad, with her being so close.”
“Close?” she said hoarsely, her heart in her throat.
He smiled like the sadistic monster he was. “Aye, didn’t you know? The gel is at Roxburgh for her cousin’s wedding.”
Her heat stopped.
Roxburgh. Only a day’s ride away. Dear God, so close! Bella had assumed Joan was still residing in Buchan’s lands in Leicestershire with her uncle William, until the matter of her wardship had been settled. The knowledge that her daughter was so close ate at her facade of control like acid.
Simon was watching her carefully, knowing exactly what his words had done to her. “I suppose it doesn’t matter, though, since you aren’t interested in Sir John’s proposal.”
He turned to leave.
She clenched her fists, trying to resist, knowing it was all a game, but powerless to do so. If there was any chance…“What is it? What does the constable propose?”
With Sir John de Seagrave having been made Guardian of Scotland, Sir John Spark had replaced him as constable of Berwick.
He smiled smugly. The brute was enjoying this. “Sir John will permit you to write the lass and will ensure that you receive a response.Ifyour daughter wishes to continue the correspondence, you will be permitted to do so as long as the nuns are given no cause for complaint. Once you have taken your vows, the girl will be permitted to visit you as often as she likes.”
Bella couldn’t breathe. Was it possible? Would she finally be permitted contact with her daughter? Or was this one more trick to keep her compliant?
“Why should I believe you? The constable has made promises before.”
Once she’d been released from the cage, they’d used the prospect of a reunion with her daughter to keep her in line. But whenever she got close, they always found a small infraction to delay it.
“You aren’t in any position to make demands. You are a rebel. A traitor. Consider yourself lucky that you are not still hanging from the tower cage. I told Sir John he is too soft with you, and this is how you reward him? You will take the veil, my lady,” he sneered, “or you won’t be the only one to suffer the consequences.”
She knew he was only trying to scare her, but it was working. After the unsuccessful attempt by some of Robert’s men to free her from her cage, her captors had none-too-subtly warned her that Joan would be the one to suffer if she were to escape.
His smile taunted malevolently. “I hate to think of the harm that could befall a young girl, without anyone to protect her. There’s a powerful fever spreading through England right now. You know how easy it is to catch a chill.”
Bella’s blood went cold. The beat of her heart seemed to pound in her ears. “You would threaten a young girl? My daughter is the sole heir of the Earl of Buchan—a loyal subject to your king. Would he let the blood of an innocent child stain his hands to punish one insignificant woman?”
“Insignificant?” he snorted. “You’ve caused the king almost as many problems as King Hood. Do you know that the Governor of Berwick had to make a law against the wearing of a pink rose? I should have crushed it under my heel, just as the king will do to all your rebel friends.” His eyes narrowed. “And no one’s threatening anyone, I’m merely making an observation. You wouldn’t want the girl to be blamed anymore for her mother’s actions, would you? The king wants you to be a nun, and if I were you I’d bow my head and find a little meekness to tame that wicked pride of yours.”
He slammed the door behind him. She heard the bar clang into place, and then the click of the lock.
Both precautions were unnecessary. They knew as well as she did that she wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize the person who mattered to her most in the world. Her fate had been sealed the moment he’d entered the room, her defiance illusory. As long as Edward of England had Joan, he controlled Bella.
A tear slid from the corner of her eye, burning a path down her cheek.A nun. The rest of her life confined in a convent. She didn’t want…
No. She wiped the tears from her eyes. It didn’t matter what she wanted. She would do whatever she could to keep her daughter safe.
