Fire Song. Catherine Archer

to the man before her. It was the furniture and linens, the huge copper tub, the bolts of fabric, all the household items they had gathered for Celeste’s marriage. All were now hers.

      The thought was so overwhelming that it was a moment before Meredyth realized he was speaking again. “Your father will provide the men to drive the wagons, and I shall leave two of the four I have brought with me to Penacre. They will escort you to Kirkland in the morning. I assume you will be safe upon your own father’s lands. And after that you will be upon mine.”

      She frowned. “They will escort me…?”

      He raised a brow that was as black as a raven’s wing. “I have other matters to attend to. I shall follow in perhaps a week.”

      She took a deep breath. She was to go to Kirkland, the home of her family’s enemy, alone. Meredyth met his gaze with her own deliberately cool one, though it cost her dear. “As you will.” If he thought he would see her beg him to attend her he was greatly mistaken. She would ask for nothing. Better to burn in hell than ask for this oaf’s protection.

      Meredyth could not stop herself from saying as much. “If you imagine I shall beg you to act the proper husband to me, St. Sebastian, you may now learn that I will never do so. Not now, and not in the future.” She turned her back to him in dismissal.

      It was with complete surprise that she heard his voice so close behind her only a moment later. Dear Lord, he had made not a sound. Meredyth was only just able to keep herself from giving a physical start, as she closed her eyes and willed her racing heartbeat to slow.

      His words did nothing to assist her efforts. “Have no fear, wench, I shall act the proper husband to you when required. There will be no need to beg.”

      There was no mistaking what he was referring to. The words had the effect of sending a shiver of awareness down her spine. Meredyth was appalled at her own reaction after the way he was now treating her. Even as she struggled with her own feelings, something told her that she must never allow this man to know how greatly he affected her. Calling upon all her reserves of self-preservation, Meredyth swung around to face him. “I have no fear of that or anything else about you, my lord. And allow me to tell you one more truth. You think this marriage has made me yours to command. I am not. I will act by my own wishes.”

      As she looked at him, she thought for the briefest moment that she saw admiration light those compelling eyes. But the impression was short-lived, for she could see he was very obviously looking at her with that now accustomed superior expression of his. “Oh, you are mine to command and for whatever act I desire. Mark me.” Without another word he turned on his heel and was gone.

      

      Meredyth passed through the great curtain wall at Kirkland with her head held high. What the occupants of the keep might make of the fact that she was arriving without their lord, she refused to contemplate. She had no more intention of allowing St. Sebastian’s folk to know how dazed she was by the changes that had occurred in her life over the past two days than the man himself.

      That not all the changes had been disastrous did not lessen her distress one jot.

      She cast a disbelieving glance backward over the two wagonloads of linens, furniture, cloth and other effects. They were hers, all hers, each and every item belonged to her, Meredyth. Never in her life had she thought to have so much.

      The only items that had been taken from the chests were the clothing that had already been made up for Celeste, who had finally returned to the keep many hours after the worst of the chaos had died down. She had been summoned to their father, but emerged defiant a short time later, refusing to say where she had been or why she and Meredyth had switched places. Only to Meredyth had she admitted to passing a night in an abandoned forester’s cottage. She had then indicated that her confidence that all would turn out well between Meredyth and Roland had been justified.

      An amazed Meredyth had not bothered to plague her with the unpleasant truth. She ignored the throb in her chest at remembering how cool the blackguard had been as he told her that he was sending her on to Kirkland without him.

      Determinedly she told herself what he thought mattered very little. What did matter was that she could now set up her own home. Use things that were hers to do with as she pleased. Meredyth much doubted St. Sebastian would remain interested in her for long. He had no real feelings for her. Mayhap he would soon ignore her to the extent that he would leave her to do as she pleased about the keep so long as she did not interfere with him directly. He was a warrior. What true interest could he have in how she ran the household?

      For reasons unknown to her the thought of his ignoring her completely was not as soothing as she would have wished. She told herself not to be foolish, even as a sudden and quite unwanted memory of the feel of the man’s tongue against her breast made her flush with heat.

      Blushing furiously and angry with herself for such a thought, Meredyth looked about, glad that none here could read her mind. In spite of St. Sebastian’s overconfident parting words, Meredyth had no intention of being intimate with him.

      The two men Roland had left behind to escort her sat silent atop their horses where they rode just ahead. They had said barely a word to her or her maid, Jolie, throughout the long day. Neither of the young men had even bothered to mention their names, nor had Roland before he galloped away from Penacre as if he could no longer bear to be there. Of course, she told herself, attempting to be fair-minded, the steadily falling drizzle might have had some bearing on the situation.

      Now that they were within the castle walls, Meredyth felt many pairs of eyes upon her. She continued to hold her head high, refusing to give in to the urge to look more closely at the gathering crowd, to see if the people resented their lord’s marriage to his enemy’s daughter as much as she feared. She could only believe they must, and her position was made doubly difficult by Roland’s very conspicuous absence.

      Knowing she could change none of this, Meredyth did her utmost to concentrate on surveying her new home. The keep was a large, square, two-story structure with a square tower on each of the four corners. A crenellated walkway ran the length of the four walls. A sturdy log bridge connected the outer wall to the top of the keep. In the event of an attack where the outer wall must be abandoned men would be able to fall back to the protection of the inner keep along this route and burn it behind them so as not to give access to the enemy. She suspected that there were others like it that were not visible to her from this vantage.

      Obviously Kirkland took the security of his castle very seriously. Her lips twisted in irony. It did not completely surprise her that such a disagreeable man might indeed have enough enemies to make such precautions necessary.

      Not that she felt her own father was lax. But he certainly did not go to such lengths to ensure the peace at Penacre. It had not been needed.

      The wagons came to a halt in the center of the courtyard, yet no one moved.

      After what seemed an eternity, Meredyth took a deep breath and told herself that she must be the one to do something if no one else intended to. Squaring her shoulders for courage, she slid to the hard-packed ground.

      To her relief she saw a man leave the group on the steps of the keep and move toward her. With careful dignity Meredyth waited for him to come to her.

      He was a tall man, as tall as St. Sebastian himself, but not quite as broad of shoulder, and his ash-blond hair was cut short He stopped before her with a polite if somewhat stiff bow. “I take it you are my lord’s new wife, the lady Celeste. I am Sir Simon, left in charge of the keep in my lord’s absence. But I am sure he has told you that.”

      Meredyth could not hold back a scowl of chagrin. Roland had told her nothing. Worse than that, this man had called her Celeste. Then she chided herself for her own unpreparedness. Of course they were expecting Celeste, not having been told otherwise. Well, she had no intention of explaining anything. She simply replied. “I am your lord’s wife, the lady Meredyth.”

      Sir Simon blinked, but she rushed on before anything could be said. “My maid and I are fatigued. It has been quite a long day.”

      He