Catherine Archer - Fire Song

His gaze raked her from the top of her tousled red head to the soles of her incredibly small bare feet. How could he have been foolish enough to believe her to be Celeste Chalmers? She was tiny and delicate where her sister was taller and lithe. His gaze was caught momentarily as he took in the tangle of scarlet curls that tumbled about her. When she turned her back to him and began to pace the oaken floor in agitation, still clutching the bedcover to her bosom, he saw that the flame cascade reached to her knees in back.

He was suddenly struck by an image of that hair draped across his chest as she kissed him with all the fervor of an experienced woman. But he reminded himself that she had not been. There was no mistaking the fact that he and he alone had breached the barrier of her womanhood. Even as he looked at her, the evidence of this stained the edge of the covering she used to shield herself from him.

Why? Why, if her father had not been trying to outwit him in some way, had they done this thing? He would soon be past caring how much rage showed in his voice, if he did not receive an explanation. “If you did not do this at your father’s urging, why have you done it…Meredyth?” Her name felt somewhat strange to his lips, though he had to admit, however reluctantly, that he liked the soft hard sound of it.

He brushed the thought aside. The woman’s name was of no consequence, nor were the memories of how she had returned his passion with an enthusiasm that had surprised and pleased him. Traces of an extremely unpleasant supposition were forming in his mind. Could it be perhaps that Hugh Penacre had thought to somehow cheat him of the heavy dower that had come with his eldest daughter?

Roland was determined that this was not going to happen. He glared at the woman before him through narrowed eyes as he tried not to see that she was quite beautiful, with her cheeks flushed and her eyes bright with animosity. Certainly, he admitted, not in the way of her sister, but in a way all her own. She reminded him of an angry ginger kitten, all eyes and flashing claws.

She tapped one tiny bare foot as she said, “I cannot tell you the answer to that question. Suffice it to say that the secret is not mine to reveal. You must simply trust that I am telling you the truth.”

He threw up his hands in disbelief at her continued pose of outraged dignity. “Again you ask me to believe you, woman. You who have married me under false pretenses.”

He knew his accusation was louder than he had meant it to be, but Roland was losing his temper with this audacious spitfire. And this did not please him. He prided himself on being a man who could remain in control in any situation, no matter how difficult. He did not allow passion to guide him into doing or saying anything he would be sorry for.

He would not make his father’s mistakes.

Yet with this woman he had already lost that tight hold on his emotions. What would happen if they ended in living together? Which, he realized, was what might well happen. He had bedded her.

By trickery he reminded himself. Again he thought of those dower lands.

Yet before he could speak of his suspicions, he was distracted by the movement of the chamber door as it slid open by the merest of inches. In raced a small hairy object that Roland suspected was a dog, pushing the portal wide as it came. The dog immediately ran to Meredyth Chalmers’s feet. After one quick sniff of the woman, it turned and scurried toward Roland, yapping in an extremely high-pitched way that made him want to choke the life from it.

At the sound of a gasp, his frowning gaze went to the plump, dark-haired young woman who stood in the doorway, her eyes growing round with shock as she looked from Roland to Meredyth. The woman, who was obviously a maid if her rough spun brown gown and simple leather boots were any indication, put her hand to her cheek. “Lady Meredyth? I…I could not fathom why Sweeting was hovering about my lady’s doorway. But now I see it was you he…” She focused for a long moment on Roland, before turning back to Meredyth. “Forgive me, Lady Meredyth…I…” She halted, obviously at a loss for words.

Roland looked to Meredyth Chalmers as she came forward and took the still yapping dog from beneath his feet. When she bent forward, Roland saw the way the maid’s gaze focused on the bloodstained sheet He met her troubled eyes with his own noncommittal ones.

Meredyth had not taken note of this, for she was occupied in fussing with that ridiculous excuse for a dog, which had not ceased its yapping. “There is no need to apologize, Agnes. You obviously expected Celeste to be here. Clearly you would not be able to tell me where she is then.”

The woman could no longer withhold her understandable curiosity. “No, my lady, I fear I cannot. And yes, I am surprised at seeing you here. I thought Lady Celeste…” Her brows arched in confusion. “Was not Lady Celeste to marry my lord Kirkland?”

Meredyth scowled, biting her lip. “Uh…aye, but there has been a change of plans.”

Roland could not restrain a grunt as he interjected, his voice rife with sarcasm, “Oh, yes, a change of plans indeed.”

Meredyth’s disapproving scowl, the maid’s continued shock and the insistent barking of the dog made Roland realize he could not hope to get anywhere here. With a growl of anger, he stalked toward the maid. “Where is your master?”

She gawked up at him, “In the great hall, my lord, when last I saw him.”

Roland dodged around the maid and out into the corridor. He would get to the bottom of this. If Penacre had not known what his daughters were about, which Roland seriously doubted, he soon would.

When Roland stepped into the corridor he stopped short at seeing Penacre’s knight, Giles, standing just a few feet away. The man’s expression was one of strange satisfaction as he watched Roland come through the doorway. With a sardonic smile Roland bowed. “Is there something I can do to assist you, Sir Giles?” He paused then, moving closer to the man as he gazed into a pair of burning eyes that were on a level with his own. “Or perhaps you might be of assistance to me?”

Roland gestured to where Meredyth now stood in the doorway of the bedchamber. She glared at him, her green eyes dark with defiance as he addressed the other knight. “Were you a part of this charade that has seen me married to the wrong sister?”

As Sir Giles’s gaze followed his direction, his eyes grew round with shock and horror. Immediately Roland realized he could not have known. His horrified reply was further proof. “Married to the wrong sister? Do you mean to say that you have married Meredyth instead of Celeste?”

When Roland nodded, Sir Giles shook his head, his gaze vacant with confusion. “But how could this happen?”

Roland shrugged, feeling his own anger rise anew as he pondered that same question yet again. “You would be a more knowledgeable man than myself if you were able to discover the answer to that question.”

Looking at the man, Roland could see that Sir Giles was not listening. He seemed completely overcome as he clearly forgot all thought of good sense or formality, striding past him to stand frowning down at the diminutive Meredyth as he barked, “Where is your sister?”

Meredyth seemed surprised at the degree of Sir Giles’s reaction. She recovered quickly, clearly not willing to allow him to speak thus to her. As she rose to her full height, Roland could not help noting, with an odd stab of protectiveness, that her head did not even reach the level of the dark knight’s shoulder.

“I do not know where Celeste is,” came her haughty reply, “and I will thank you, Sir Giles, to keep a civil tone when speaking to me. ” Roland’s protectiveness turned to an even more surprising feeling of respect as he watched her face the fiercesome knight so regally.