Melissa had met the Earl of Gifford only once. He was her father’s cousin and a tall, thin man with a long nose. She recalled that she had not liked him when he visited with her father some years previously—but she had not disliked his wife, who was a pretty woman with pale hair and limpid blue eyes. She would not have minded the visit so much had it not been for the shadow that hung over her—the fear that they would force her to marry a man she did not know and could not like.
All she had heard of the Marquis of Leominster was that he was a hard, cold man and twice her age. She had learned from the casual talk of the men who rode with her that he was known for his brutality. He had, it was said, taken the wife of one of his neighbours after a dispute between them, keeping her a prisoner and using her as his mistress until he had tired of her. He then turned her out, but when she returned to her husband he would not have her back for she had dishonoured his name. Friendless and broken, she had walked into a river and drowned herself.
What kind of a father would sell his daughter to a man like that? Melissa shuddered at the thought of her likely fate if she became Leominster’s wife. She would rather die by her own hand! It was a sin to take your own life, but Melissa thought that she would risk eternal damnation rather than live in the hell that such a marriage would bring—but had she the right to condemn Rhona to a cruel death?
‘We shall break our journey at the next inn, sister.’ Harold’s voice brought her back from her reverie. ‘We have made good time and you must be weary.’
Melissa flashed him a look of dislike. ‘Do not pretend to consider my needs, Harold. I am not hungry. I would prefer to continue until we reach our resting place for the night.’
‘Well, I am hungry if you are not,’ Harold told her, a sulky expression in his eyes. ‘I swear I know not why Leominster wants a sharp-tongued witch like you for a bride. Give me a woman with a merry laugh and a warm heart, anytime.’ She was too thin for his tastes, for he was used to seeking his pleasures in the arms of a plump tavern wench. His father had taught him to fight and given him a hunger for good living, though he lacked all the qualities and refinements of a true knight.
Melissa had tried to feel affection for him, but his coarseness and his surly manner had killed any feeling she might have had for him. She lifted her head, a look of scorn in her eyes.
‘I am sorry that I do not find favour in your eyes, brother. I wish that you might allow me to slip away to an Abbey and save yourself the trouble of this journey.’
‘If it were up to me, I would slit your throat and be done with it,’ Harold said, an evil leer on his lips. ‘I cannot see why we may not just take your lands for ourselves, but Father says it must be done within the law.’
‘I thank you for your kind words, brother,’ Melissa said. She turned her head from him. ‘I care not what becomes of me.’
‘And I care even less,’ her brother snarled. ‘Because of you I may miss all the excitement. Father has heard that Henry Tudor is bringing an army from France. That is why he could not spare the time to escort you himself. He has received a summons to join the King. And I might have gone with him if it had not been for you.’
‘I am sorry to be such a trouble to you—but let me go to an Abbey and you may ride to join the King’s army.’
‘And earn my father’s displeasure? You would love that, sister.’ He glared at her. ‘Just remember that I do not have Father’s scruples concerning you, Melissa. If you were dead it would suit me very well…’
‘Yes, I know,’ Melissa replied. ‘But you have no need to fear me, Harold. Father would never disinherit you for me.’
‘Not for you,’ Harold said, eyes cold as they rested on her face. ‘But you might have a son…’
‘But my son would not bear his name,’ Melissa reminded him. ‘You are safe unless Father has a legitimate son, which he cannot unless he marries again.’
Harold shot a startled look at her. ‘You do not think he intends to take another wife?’
‘I have no idea, brother,’ Melissa said. ‘For your sake I hope not—but you can never be sure. Father is still a strong man and capable of giving his wife a son.’
‘What do you know?’ Harold demanded his eyes narrowed. ‘Have you heard something?’
‘Father would not tell me,’ Melissa said. ‘But it is a thought…’
‘He would not marry without telling me,’ Harold declared, but there was a frown on his face as they rode into the inn courtyard.
Melissa smiled inwardly. She had given her brother something else to think about, and perhaps he would forget about her…but even if she had the chance, she could not in all conscience run away.
Rob gave his horse to the young lad who came running, tossing him a small coin for his trouble. He was at the outskirts of Shrewsbury and meant only to eat something while his horse was rested. He had come alone, giving his men orders to meet him at the appointed place the following day, for he would pass the night at the house of Morgan of Hywell.
It was as he was crossing the inn yard that he saw the woman lingering at the edge of the woods he had just left. She had not seen him, but seemed furtive, as if she wanted to slip away and did not quite dare. For a moment he hesitated, and then walked swiftly towards her. It was dangerous in those woods for there were armed men everywhere.
‘Melissa? What are you doing here?’ he demanded, his voice harsh.
Melissa turned, her startled gaze on his face. ‘Oh, it is you,’ she said, and caught her breath on a sob. ‘I thought it was Harold…’
‘Your half brother is here?’
‘Yes, he is taking me to the north to my kinsman’s house. I…am to be married…’ Her eyes were wide, dark with longing as she looked at him. To be so close to him and yet unable to speak from her heart! If only Rhona were safe, she would beg him to take her away, now, before her brother could stop them!
‘I see…’ Rob’s expression hardened, ignoring the look of appeal in her eyes. ‘Then I wish you every happiness, lady.’ His mouth curled with bitterness and he was about to turn away, but she caught his sleeve, making him turn to look at her again. ‘What more would you have of me?’
‘I shall not be happy in this marriage for I can never love my husband. Surely you know that I shall only ever love one man?’
‘Indeed? How should I know that?’
She hesitated, ‘Sir…are you here alone?’
‘Yes, why do you ask?’ His eyes narrowed in suspicion. ‘I am armed even if alone and your brother would not have the advantage of me now. They tied my arms that day I came to ask for you for I brought no weapons.’ He touched the sword that hung across his chest. ‘I am more than a match for Harold of Meresham!’
‘But he is not alone, for he has ten armed men.’ Melissa stopped because she had seen Harold come to the door of the inn to look for her. Her chance of escape had gone, if she had ever had one. She gave a little sob of fear, because alone Rob had no chance against her half brother and his men. Besides, if she went with Rob, her father would carry out his threat against her serving woman. She was bound as surely as if Harold had her in chains. ‘No, you are right—how should you know that I loved you? Except that had you loved me, you would not have believed me capable of what they did to you. Forget me, I will not be the cause of your death. My brother looks for me. I must go.’
She ran away from him. Rob turned to look and saw that Harold of Meresham was at the inn door. He saw him take a rough hold of her arm and give her a shake and frowned. For a moment he was tempted to go after him and challenge him. He would like to plunge his sword deep into the blaggard’s heart, but Melissa’s words had warned him. He was alone and it was unlikely that Harold would meet him in single combat—and he could not afford