Page 11 of An Earl for the Archeress

“Take the food slowly,” the woman advised. “Too much too fast will only cause you to retch it back up. Here. Sip this. ’Tis the earl’s finest sweet wine. ’Twill make you feel better.”

Mariel took the goblet and sipped. It was crisp. Light. Robert not only made wine for alcohol, but also wine for a refined palate.

The woman stood and walked to the door, opening it. A guard outside peeked in to catch a glimpse of her then left his post at the woman’s bidding.

“Lord Huntington saw to it you were given a decent abode here and removed you from that horrible tower. He wanted to be informed the moment you were awake. He’ll be here momentarily.”

Lovely. Mariel rolled her eyes. He might have been kindly to place her in a bed with a servant to help her eat, but she had still stolen his game, and she would still have to face the consequences. And if the guard outside her door was any indication, she was still a prisoner.

“Can we just skip this part?” Mariel grumbled.

“Pardon?” said the woman, confused by her accent.

“Nothing,” she muttered.

She attempted to prop herself up, looking down and seeing herself dressed in a lady’s chemise and her hair unbound, combed, though in sore need of a good washing. Her hands were clean, and her wrists…Lord, when had she become so skinny? She’d known she was thin, but seeing herself when she was unawares caught her off guard. She was as thin as a twig.

“Let me help you.” The servant fretted, hastening to her side. “You should try not to move overmuch.”

“My thanks,” said Mariel.

She sank back into the pillows the woman placed at her back, when a knock sounded upon the door. The maidservant hurried to it and cracked it open.

“Is she decent?” she heard the earl ask.

His voice rolled over her ears and almost made her forget that she hated him. It was a deep, clear, youthful voice.

“She is, my lord,” said the servant, who pulled back the door.

“My thanks, Alice.”

And in strode Robert Huntington, just as perfectly disheveled as the first time she had seen him. His hair was just as loose and wavy, skimming his shoulders. His tunic and trousers were just as mussed. His leather boots were stately and his vest was hanging open lazily upon his shoulders, as it had that day of the tournament. His sword belt slouched upon his waist, and his eyes were an even warmer hazel in the soft glow of firelight that caused shadows to dance on the tapestries. And of course his codpiece… Her vulgar eyes couldn’t help glancing there as well. She reddened just thinking about it.

“So, Elmer,” he said, and she could see the teasing in his eyes. “We meet again. If you had needed food, you had only to come to my gates to ask.”

She rolled her eyes. “I told your guards I did nay know whose land I traversed. And I went without until I could stand it nay any longer—”

“You’re Scottish?” he interrupted.

She rolled her eyes again. It would seem she had let her guard down. Her Scottish brogue had been unmistakable. “Aye, a barbarian, as you Englishmen consider us.”

He stared at her for a moment then decided to ignore her barb. “Why didn’t you use the shilling I gave you?” he asked.

“I had hoped to save it for when I found a market.”

“My village has a thriving one, and the villagers would have traded you fairly for food.”

She could have simply told him she had not known his village was nearby, but anger lit her temperament and there was little she could do about her tongue in such a state.

“Oh aye, so I could spend it at your markets and you could recoup that shilling, too? You’re just like every other powerful man. Selfish and obsessed with amassing wealth. And now I’m your prisoner to be hit and punished and dragged about like a big spectacle for your entire hall to laugh at. Aye, like all other men. Most assuredly like my faither!”

His servant Alice gasped. “Lord, she’s vulgar!”

Mariel could see a tick in Robert’s jaw pop, sensing she had angered him but caring little.

“Alice, please wait in the corridor,” he ordered, and the maid hastened out, closing the door.

Huntington turned to Mariel, striding forth and cupping her chin in his hand. “Let me tell you something. My father was the arse you speak of. Not I. And praise the Lord he is just now dead. I have never turned away a man, woman, or child who shows up in need. No person who comes to me starves, and no man who cheats goes unpunished. I’ve no idea what your story is, but not all men are vile monsters who laugh at another’s downfall. Had I known my men had stumbled upon you, I would have remedied the mistake immediately. And had I known my man hit you…” His hand on her chin gentled to a tender hold. “The consequences for his actions would have been much swifter.