Page 21 of An Earl for the Archeress

“And women,” Mariel added.

“Of course,” he conceded. “It takes time to change the allegiances of men, and women, who have only known one path. Sometimes it can take generations. But I do know that if King Richard doesn’t return soon from the Crusade, your father’s corrupt ambitions will be ruinous.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, sitting forward.

“Surely you know he vies to usurp the Scottish crown and will go to great lengths to do so,” Robert said. “Why do you think he tries to strengthen his English familial ties with the Duke of Brittany? De Blondeville took over the Dukedom by marrying Prince Geoffrey’s widow, and your father claims King Richard, Geoffrey, and their two other brothers are his second cousins. If he can make a case for his royal relation and show that he has influence here in England, and that those Englishmen are willing to support him with either men, finances, or both, he hopes it will be enough to force King William to abdicate.”

“’Tis preposterous,” Mariel said, scoffing. ’Twas ridiculous of her father, and yet, such an ignorant, power-hungry ambition didn’t surprise her. “Surely he doesn’t think it will work, does he? King William is unequivocally entitled and already has recognized two bastard sons that we know of. His line is secured and unquestioned.”

“True,” he said, lingering on her response. “Had you any idea your father’s wiles?”

“No.” She shook her head. “But I’ve never been privy to his plans, being the ill-favored heiress. And to be honest, I don’t give credence to his plotting. I imagine many nobles scheme away their lives, hoping to someday wear the jewels. I did know that he wished to marry me off to a powerful English earl. Rumors were that the earl was harsh with his women.”

A knowing expression fluttered across Robert’s face. “Do you know who he was?” he asked.

She shook her head. “No. He told me it did not concern me. It’s the reason I stole one of his horses and fled. I could endure his lashings, knowing I might one day marry and escape him, but I could never submit myself to a lifetime of matrimony to someone just like him.”

“I’m glad you did.” Robert leveled a gaze at her. “I’m aware of your father’s marriage efforts on your behalf.”

“How so?” she demanded, straightening and then crossing her legs.

A mistake, she realized. His gaze dipped to the junction of her thighs. To his credit, he quickly looked away, but did she detect a hint of redness creeping onto his cheeks? Mayhap shame? It was too difficult to determine in the poor, flickering light.

“You’ve come by your calluses honestly, Mariel,” he conceded. “Your father sought to arrange a marriage betwixt my father and his oldest daughter—”

She gasped, speechless, then narrowed her eyes, and whispered, “What?”

“’Tis true. Your father was dissatisfied with what he called King William of Scotland’s ‘ineptitude.’ He hoped that marrying you into a powerful English earldom would strengthen his case to usurp King William’s authority, for then he would also have my father’s backing.”

“A foolish plan,” Mariel interjected. “For he’s only second cousin to the Plantagenet brothers, and unrecognized at that.”

“To be certain. I assume the daughter he sought to marry off was you. My father would have been your husband.” He shook his head, his gaze on her gentle but still steady through the flames. “Trust, Mariel, now that I know who you are, I’m glad to God that your flight and my father’s illness stalled your marriage. I wouldn’t want to know you now and see you in his clutches, unable to do a thing about it.”

Mariel looked away. She shivered, at first from the thought of Robert’s father, then because it was chilly in the nighttime air when they weren’t exerting themselves, and finally from the unmistakable affection in his words. She pulled loose her bedroll, a tattered blanket that had seen so many campsites and clandestine visits to haylofts, it had thinned to a threadbare rag. Still, it was all she had, and she wrapped it around her shoulders.

Robert eyed her again, then pulled loose his thick, woolen blanket and tossed it over the flame to her. “There. Use that.”

Startled, she looked at the blanket, then freed a hand and tossed it back. “What about you?”

He huffed with uninhibited irritation. “Why must you always complain at every charitable thing done for you?” He tossed it back, and because she was stubborn, she tossed it back once more.

“Because men are only charitable when they’re scheming something. I do not want any man’s pity or charity, for I do not want to be indebted to him. This way, I can continue to live freely, just like a man has the right.”

“If your brand of freedom—hiding and sneaking and playacting at entering archery contests is truly freedom, I’m sorely glad I’m not so trapped.”

His gaze was unwavering through the flames, his hazel eyes dancing with light as he folded his arms over the blanket. She could tell the battle of wills was not over. It was written all over his face as he considered her. He might not get her to use the blanket, or keep the coin purse, but he would finally win. It excited her, annoyed her, scared her, and yet, already she was building a fantasy about him being kind and benevolent, not another actor in the twisted game of power and domination the peerage played.

“I haven’t liaised with Charlotte in more than five months,” he finally started. Here it is. His next strategy to disarm her emotions. It was effective, too, because for some reason his mistress throwing herself at him had gouged her near the region in her chest where the heart typically lingered. “I broke it off when she became betrothed and my father took to the sick bed, for I had no interest in pursuing her. I truly am sorry she came tonight. It wasn’t my plan. She thought to rekindle an affair since her fiancé died.”

“You owe me no explanation,” Mariel said, looking away. “Sleep with whom you like, ’tis not my affair―”

“It bothered you, and you and I both know it. Just as it bothered me to think that John was swiving you. Why is that?” he asked, though the tone in his voice suggested he already knew.

“I suppose you have some grand notion in mind already,” she said with a roll of her eyes.

“I do. I think you allowed him to proposition you in order to make me angry. Or jealous.”

“I did nothing of the sort.” She huffed, rolling her eyes again.