woodland race. Drawn to the tapestry, she was marvelling at the prodigious size and the tremendous amount of needlework required for such a grand piece when she felt eyes on her back.
Turning quickly, she found that she herself was the object of scrutiny. “Your pardon, Lady Mérian,” said her observer, emerging from the shadowed doorway across the room.
Dressed entirely in black—tunic, breeches, boots, and belt— save for a short crimson cloak neatly folded across his shoulders and fixed with a large brooch of fine yellow gold almost the same colour as his long, flowing hair, he wore a short sword at his side, sheathed in a black leather scabbard.
“Baron Neufmarché,” she said, suddenly abashed. “Forgive me. I did not mean to trespass.”
“Nonsense,” he said, smiling, “I fear it is I who am trespassing— on your enjoyment. I do beg your pardon.” He moved to join her at the tapestry. She gazed at the wall hanging, and he gazed at her. “It is fine, is it not?”
“It is very beautiful,” she said politely. “I’ve never seen the like.”
“A mere trifle compared to you, my lady.”
Blushing at this unexpected compliment, Mérian lowered her head demurely. “Here now!” said the baron. Placing a finger beneath her chin, he raised her face so that he could look into her eyes. “I see I have made you uncomfortable. Again, I must beg your pardon.” He smiled and released her. “That is twice already today, and I have not yet broken fast. Indeed,” he said, as if just thinking of it for the first time, “I was just on my way to the table. Will you join me?”
“Pray excuse me, my lord,” said Mérian quickly, “but my mother will have risen and is no doubt looking for me.”
“Then I must content myself to wait until the feast,” said the baron. “However, before I let you go, you must promise me a dance.”
“My lord, I know nothing of Ffreinc dancing,” she blurted. “I only know the normal kind.”
Neufmarché put back his head and laughed. “Then for you, I will instruct the musicians to play only the musique normale.” Unwilling to embarrass herself further, Mérian gave a small curtsy. “My lord,” she said, backing away, “I give you good day.”
“And good day to you, my lady,” said the baron, smiling as he watched her go.
Mérian ducked her head, turned, and fled back down the corridor the way she had come, pausing at her chamber door to draw a breath and compose herself. She touched the back of her hand to her cheek to see if she could still feel the heat there, but it had gone, so she silently opened the door and entered the room. Her mother was awake and dressed in her gown. “Peace and joy to you this day, Mother,” she said, hurrying to give her mother a kiss on the cheek.
“And to you, my lovely,” replied her mother. “But you are awake early. Where have you been?”
“Oh,” she said absently, “just for a walk to see what I might learn of the castle.”
“Was your father or brother about?”
“No, but I saw the baron. He was going to break his fast.”
“Did you see his wife, the baroness?”
“She was not with him.” Mérian walked to the table and sat down. “Are they really so different from us?”
Her mother paused and considered the question. “I do not know,” she said at last. “Perhaps not. But you must be on your best behaviour, Mérian,” her mother warned, “and on your guard.”
“Mother?”
The queen made no reply but simply raised an eyebrow suggestively. “Whatever do you mean?” persisted Mérian.
“I mean,” said her mother with exaggerated patience, “these Ffreinc noblemen, Mérian. They are rapacious and grasping, ever seeking to advance themselves at the expense of the Britons by any means possible—and that includes marriage.”
“Mother!”
“It is true, Daughter. And do not pretend the thought of such a thing has never crossed your mind.” Lady Anora gave her daughter a glance of shrewd appraisal and added, “More than one young woman has had her heart turned by a handsome nobleman—Ffreinc, English, Irish, or whatever.”
“I would kill myself first,” Mérian stated firmly. “Of that you can be certain.”
“Nevertheless,” her mother said.
Nevertheless, indeed.
And yet here they were, attending a feast-day celebration in the castle of a wealthy and powerful Ffreinc lord. Her mother was right, she knew, but she still resented such an untoward intrusion into what she considered the affairs of her own secret heart. She might not have the remotest intention of encouraging