Page 18 of An Earl for the Archeress

She cleared her throat, hoping that the burning sensation in her eyes didn’t show, and turned to leave once again. “Life has afforded me little other choice.”

Charlotte gentled. “Robert wouldn’t want to see you go.”

Mariel whirled around. “Pardon?”

The other woman shrank back. “He meant to seat you beside himself tonight. I…I didn’t know.”

“That changes nothing.”

Charlotte shrugged. “Don’t avoid him on my account. He couldn’t take his eyes off you all evening. He would want you to stay.”

“See here. I know the two of you are involved, and that’s fine by me. I met him amidst a gaggle of whores and therefore his promiscuous ways are no surprise to me. ’Tis clear it’s your seat next to his on the dais. Not mine. He’s not the sort of man in which I hold any interest. Enjoy him.”

She turned to leave again, when Charlotte’s next words stopped her. “You know nothing about Robert or his kindness.” She shook her head with dismay. “He isn’t how you describe.”

“My eyes do not lie,” Mariel said. “Truly. I’m not angered at you, or even him. I’m angered at his presumptions and attempts to control me. I bid you a good night, Lady.”

“And I you, Lady,” Charlotte replied. “Please reconsider. He’s a good man…”

Mariel was already going down the stairs into the great hall as Charlotte’s words became inaudible behind her. Ignoring the stares and gossip, she strode through the doors opened by the guards and descended into the bailey. Stopping, she looked around. Where was the stable? She had not been outside of the keep since her arrest and knew not the layout. Looking past the shops and stone houses built against the inner wall, she spotted the obvious stable and strode across the dirt, shoving through the door.

The groom, a lad, sprang to attention. “Can I help?”

“Aye. My horse was seized, and I wish to leave. In which row of stalls might I find him?”

The lad pointed, and she said nothing more as she marched in the direction he indicated until she found her horse not only stabled properly, but also in good health.

“Thank goodness the arse has an appreciation for fine horseflesh,” she said, though it would be just like a man to care about a horse above all else.

She saddled her mount efficiently, finding the horse’s tack nearby, and after mounting up, rode out into the night. Coming upon the inner portcullis, Robert was jogging toward her.

“Lady!” he called.

She ignored him.

“Lady! Wait!”

“Should we detain her, my lord?” called the guards now blocking her path.

Robert slowed to a walk and approached her, taking her horse by the bridle.

“Please, Lady. Come inside to talk.”

“There’s nothing to say,” she snapped.

“There’s much to say,” he said. “I apologize for my rude interruption on your privacy. I bid you come inside and give me another chance to offer hospitality.”

“I would prefer to leave,” she said, turning the horse’s bridle, though he didn’t let go and his guards moved into position to defend the open portcullis.

She gave them a slow perusal and then looked back down at Robert with a knowing expression that spoke of anger directed entirely at him.

“So I truly am your prisoner. Not your guest.”

“You’re free to leave at your leisure,” he replied, tossing her something.

Not expecting it, she barely caught it. It jingled. The bloody coin purse.

“However, I won’t have it on my conscience that you’re riding unsafely through the forest. Therefore, I’ll accompany you to my borders, at which point you may be rid of me.”