Adrian gave his brother a quizzical look. "What do you mean? He has been very quiet, surprisingly so." He stopped and considered what he had just said. "Guy has been too quiet, hasn't he?"
"Exactly." Richard got up and wandered over to the large window. Fresh, pale lead strips showed where the broken glass panels had been replaced. Adrian's gaze avoided the window, which was hardly surprising.
Richard returned to his chair. "Guy has been raiding steadily and has caused us some damage, but there has been no major attack. Whenever we retaliate, he pulls back quickly. I wonder what he is planning."
Adrian leaned back in his chair and frowned. Since his attention had been on Meriel, he had been absent-mindedly grateful for how quiet things had been this season, but the situation wasn't natural, not when control of Shropshire was in the balance. "I don't suppose he has learned wisdom and knows that he can't defeat us."
"Guy? Wise? He has no more sense than a mad boar." Richard frowned. "More likely he is trying to lull us into complacence. Since he would need twice as many men to seriously threaten Warfield or Montford, he must be planning some treachery instead."
"When I was in Normandy earlier in the year, I heard that an English lord was inquiring about mercenary troops, but that is not unusual, so I thought nothing more of it. What if Burgoigne is thinking of strengthening his forces, perhaps to the point where he could take Shrewsbury?"
"If that's a possibility, we would be better off striking first. A waiting game is well enough when two foes are equally balanced, but if Guy is going to change the odds, we should take the battle to him."
"Perhaps you are right," Adrian said reluctantly. He had avoided such tactics because of the high toll of destruction they caused, but perhaps he could no longer afford his scruples. "I'm not ready to strike out of hand, but I'll send word to Normandy and see if any of our friends have news that might indicate that Burgoigne is hiring mercenaries."
Before Richard could say more, the door swung open and Meriel peeked in cautiously. When she saw Adrian, she gave a heart-stopping smile and entered. She was dressed in the blue bliaut he had given her, which someone had repaired so well that it was impossible to tell that it had been torn. Apart from a slight stiffness in Meriel's gait, there was nothing to indicate how near death she had been.
"May I sit with you awhile?" she asked. "I will cause no trouble."
"Of course," Adrian said, unable to resist her elfin charm. He gestured to his companion. "This is my brother, Sir Richard FitzHugh. He will be leaving in a few minutes. After he has gone, we can go for a walk if you like."
"Oh, yes, please." Meriel dropped into a curtsy before Richard. "I am honored to meet you, my lord."
Richard bowed with the same courtesy he would have accorded the empress. Adrian watched the exchange with amusement. Had Meriel remembered how to curtsy, or was Margery training her in manners? He would ask later.
As the men returned to their discussion, Meriel drifted about the room, touching and lifting objects curiously, studying textures with her fingertips. Adrian devoutly hoped that she would never remember the last disastrous occasion when she had been in this chamber.
When Richard rose to take his leave, Meriel approached the men shyly. "I'm sorry, I could not help but hear. You are fighting a war?"
"Not really a war, more like quarreling with a bad-tempered neighbor," Adrian explained. "However, Warfield will be safe. It is one of the strongest castles in Britain."
He would have said more, but a sudden realization struck him dumb. The two men had been speaking Norman. Meriel had not only understood their discussion, but she now spoke Norman as fluently as Adrian and Richard.
Meriel was looking at him with puzzlement, sensing something wrong. Forcing himself to appear calm, Adrian said, "I didn't know you spoke the Norman tongue."
"Norman?" Meriel asked curiously. Then her face brightened. "Oh, I see, it is a different language. And the one we spoke before is English, is it not?"
"It is." Adrian switched languages. "You also knew Welsh. Do you still remember that?"
"Yes!" she answered in the same tongue. "And the other one is called Latin." She skipped over to Adrian's bookcase and pulled out a volume, thumbed to a particular page, and read a few lines in Latin, then looked up like a puppy who has just performed a new trick.
Since Adrian seemed temporarily deprived of the power of speech, it was Richard who asked, "Do you know what they mean—the lines you just read?"
"Of course, it is from the Gospels." Meriel glanced down at the volume and translated, "In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God." She looked up apologetically. "I'm not sure what it really means, but those are the words. It is very lovely, is it not?"
"Very. And you read it well." Adrian swallowed hard. "Meriel, may I ask you to wait for me in your room? I will come in a few minutes."
"Of course," she said sunnily. She made a grave curtsy to Richard and a saucy one to Adrian, then left the chamber as both men stared after her in stunned disbelief.
"Her appearance is Welsh," Adrian said rather feebly.
"But she speaks like a Norman lady. You said that her accent was of southern Wales, so perhaps she learned Norman there, serving a Norman noblewoman." Richard gave a wicked chuckle as he went to the door. "When you went hunting that day, you certainly caught a most unusual prey. Perhaps you should find out if she reads Greek as well."
"You have a deplorable sense of humor," Adrian said, unamused.
"Of course," his brother agreed cordially. "Farewell. I wish you joy in solving the puzzle of your mysterious maiden."
Dourly Adrian watched the other man leave. Who the devil was Meriel and how much else had she successfully concealed from him? As he thought about it, he realized that she had never denied speaking Norman, but she had certainly encouraged his belief that she was ignorant of the language.
Her ability to speak Norman was nowhere near as shocking as the fact that she could read as well as he. Whatever her background, it had included an excellent education. It was still possible that she was the Welsh girl of modest birth that she had claimed to be. The Welsh revered education. But she could be almost anything else. Despite her distinctively Welsh appearance, Meriel could even be Norman, or partially so, though the possibility was remote. A Norman lady would not have been alone in the forest, and she had certainly not been dressed as a lady.
He sighed and went to Meriel's chamber. At this point, he and she were equally ignorant of her history, but by careful observation of what she remembered, he might be able to deduce her background. At least now Meriel wasn't deliberately trying to conceal anything from him.
She gave her shining smile when he entered her room, as if the sun rose and set on him. Her regard was very humbling. No man could possibly live up to such veneration, and perhaps enduring it when Adrian knew himself unworthy was another subtle punishment. "Do you feel strong enough for a walk in the garden?"
"Oh, yes, I feel very strong today."
Meriel's expression was hopeful, and he remembered that he had said that they would discuss kissing again when she felt stronger. It would be interesting to see which would win, his honor or her innocent sensuality.
As he escorted her down the stairs, her slim hand clasped trustingly in his, he would not have gambled much on his honor.
* * *
In spite of her claims of complete recovery, Meriel tired quickly. They found a shady spot on a stone bench beneath the trees that had been left in the corner of the large walled garden. A thorn fence divided the area in half. The far side contained the kitchen garden, well planted with herbs, vines, and young fruit trees. On this side there were some formal plantings of shrubs and flowers, but most of the area was plain grassy turf.
"I fear this is rather plain," Lordadrian said apologetically. "The castle is new and fortifications have been more important than flowers."
"Much could be done here," Meriel answered. "Perhaps a fount
ain there..." She pointed to a spot. "Do you think water could be brought here for a fountain?"
"If you wish that, it can be done."
"And around it, raised beds with flowers in them. Roses, of course, like these lovely white ones." She lifted the perfect blossom in her hand and inhaled with pleasure. It smelled all the sweeter because he had picked and presented it to her. "But there should be other varieties like violets, lilies, pansies so there will be flowers from early spring until frost. Some could be in tubs, then brought into the solar for the winter."
Seeing his amused expression, Meriel stopped, abashed. "I am sorry, Lordadrian, I did not mean to chatter on, as if you were not capable of planning your own garden."
"Don't apologize, ma petite. Most of my time has been divided between fighting and overseeing my lands. I have thought very little of what should be done here." He gestured toward the open expanse. "A castle garden is usually the special charge of the lady of the household. Since you seem to know about gardens, you may plan this one if the task pleases you. And don't call me Lordadrian. I would prefer Adrian."
"Adrian is the usual nickname, not Lord?"
" 'Lord' is a title of honor, not a nickname," he explained, his voice grave but with a twinkle in his eye. "My actual name is Adrian de Lancey."
"Ahh," she said, able to place the information in a larger context. "As with Brotherpeter. 'Brother' is another title of honor, is it not, with Peter his true name?"
"Exactly, but to be a brother is a different kind of honor from being a lord." Adrian regarded her thoughtfully. "You remember things almost instantly when you are reminded of them. Perhaps if I ask you questions about your past, you will remember them as well."
"What a good idea." Meriel cocked her head and waited for him to begin.
"Do you recall where your home is?"
She thought and thought, but could not remember. As she frowned, he tried again. "Do you remember your father's name?"
Still nothing came to her, no matter how hard she tried. Distressed, Meriel worried at her lower lip with her teeth.
"You speak three languages well, but which is your mother tongue? Are you Norman?" When she did not answer, Adrian tried again, offering, "Welsh?"
"I'm sorry," she said miserably, her brows knit with anxiety. "I can't do it. I remember Latin and gardens, but nothing of myself."
"Don't worry, ma petite," Adrian said quickly, putting a comforting arm around her. "Perhaps your memories will come back to you in time. And if they don't, that is all right too."
Meriel leaned against him, as always feeling warm and safe in his closeness. At the same time, she had the strange impression that Adrian felt some relief that she could not remember more. How could that be?
As she pondered, for the first time it occurred to her that her situation at Warfield was an odd one. The more she thought, the odder it seemed. "May I ask you some questions, Adrian?"
Removing his arm, he replied, "Of course. Anything you wish. If I can answer, I will."
"How is it that nothing is known of me or my family? Surely I have a family?"
Choosing his words carefully, he replied, "You were discovered alone in the royal forest near here. You had been slightly injured in a fall from a horse. You refused to say much about yourself, but claimed to have come from the country of Gwynedd in Wales. You said your brother had a small farm there and that you had a sister in Lincoln."
"But you did not believe me?" she asked, accurately interpreting his tone.
He shook his head. "You contradicted yourself, said things that made no sense. There may have been some truth in your story, but I don't know how much."
"Why ever would I have lied?" she asked, perplexed. "I cannot believe I would have done so for no reason."
"I'm sure you had a reason, Meriel, but I have no idea what it was." Adrian gave a wry half-smile. "If I did, the question would likely answer itself."
Meriel frowned, inhaling the fragrance of her white rose again. The more Adrian told her, the more confused she became, and the biggest question was yet to come. "I do not understand my position here."
She gestured toward the great keep which loomed above them. "You are the most important person in Warfield, while I am just someone whom you found in the forest, of no importance and a liar to boot. You have given me much of your time and consideration, but why? What am I to you?"
There was a long silence before he said, "You are the woman I hoped to make my wife."
Shocked, she glanced up to see if he was joking, but his quartz-clear eyes were completely serious. Seeing her reaction, he asked, "Is marriage one of those things you remember, or should I explain it?"
Meriel swallowed hard, and looked down, nervously twisting the stem of the rose between her fingers. The idea of marrying this kind, beautiful, powerful man made her shiver with delight. "I... I remember what it means to wed. But why would you wish to marry me? Isn't it customary for people to marry others of the same rank? Surely a lord would marry a lady of family and wealth, and I am not that. Apparently I am not even a lady."
Adrian laid his hand over hers, stilling her restless fingers. "It didn't matter what your background was, Meriel, because I loved you from the moment I saw you," he said quietly. "You were so lovely and bright and free. I knew that my life would be incomplete without you."
Scarcely daring to believe, Meriel looked up and saw such longing on Adrian's face that it humbled her. Remembering how such things were done, she asked, "Then we were betrothed?"
"There was no betrothal."
She understood immediately, and her joy faded. "You said that you had hoped that we would wed. That means you no longer wish it, no? You have changed your mind."
Meriel looked away from him, trying to be strong. "I understand. I am not the same as I was. You need a woman wise enough and strong enough to be lady of a castle." Her eyes dropped. "Perhaps I would not have known how to do it properly even if I had not had the accident."
"I have not changed my mind," he said swiftly. "We were not betrothed was because you didn't wish to marry me."
Staggered, Meriel looked up again. "You are jesting! I could not possibly have refused you."
"I am not jesting." Adrian's beautiful mouth twisted. "You refused my offer in... the strongest possible terms." He started to say more, then stopped, shaking his head. Meriel could feel pain radiating from him.
"If I said that I disliked you, I was lying again," she said with absolute conviction. "I may not remember anything, but I know I could not have changed so much."
"I would like to believe that," he said softly, his yearning gaze holding hers.
Wanting to do something, anything, to eliminate his pain, Meriel raised her hands and placed them on both sides of his head and pulled his face down to hers. Adrian gasped, then responded with raw, aching hunger, his embrace so powerful that she could scarcely breathe.
Meriel discovered that her surmise had been correct: pressing two sets of lips together was even better than a kiss on cheek or forehead. Incredibly better, in fact. This kind of kissing was a whole world of delicious new experience.
Knowing herself ignorant, she followed Adrian's lead, opening her mouth as he did, using her tongue as he did, stroking his back as he did hers. The result was pure enchantment, a blend of passion, fulfillment, and longing for more, though Meriel knew not what she longed for.
She wondered if they had ever kissed like this before, and immediately knew they had not. Even if she had died, she would have remembered this!
Then he stopped, lifting his head away, leaving Meriel confused and bereft. "What...?" she questioned, dazed and wondering if she had again done the wrong thing.
Adrian pulled her close again, but holding her against his chest, not kissing her. She felt the pounding of his heart against her cheek, and knew that he was as shaken as she was.
"I'm sorry, Meriel, you have a most unsettling effect on me."
"Why are you sorry?" she asked crossly,
not understanding. "I thought that was very nice."
He gave a ragged chuckle. "So it was. Very nice indeed. In another few minutes, I would not have been able to stop."
Meriel sighed. "You will think me very stupid again, but I can't remember why we should stop."
"Because... because what we would have done is something that is best reserved to husband and wife."
Intrigued, she asked, "Do you mean that only wedded folk do that? People must have great powers of self-restraint."
"In truth, it is not uncommon for men and women to lie together out of wedlock," he admitted. "But in the view of the Church, marriage and the physical union of man and wife is sacred, and no lesser union can compare."
Her eyes widened. "You mean it would be even better if we were married?"
Adrian's laughter vibrated throughout his whole body. "I think you are making sport of me, ma petite." He held her back from him, his hands on her shoulders. "I have never been wed so I cannot swear to the difference it would make, but marriage is a solemn vow, a pledge of love and trust. I think it would give a depth to loving that goes far beyond mere physical desire."
She had been teasing him, a little, but now she said shyly, "If you still want to marry me, Adrian, this time I would be happy to accept. More than happy." She thought again. "Much, much more than happy."
He smiled rather sadly and released her shoulders. "It is too soon, Meriel. What if you suddenly remember all your past, including how much you disliked me?"
"I did not dislike you," she said firmly.
Ignoring her interruption, he said, "I... did not always behave honorably to you, and I am determined to do so this time." After another silence, he lifted her hand and kissed it very tenderly, then pressed it against his cheek. "But when some time has passed and you are recovered, if you are still willing, I hope you will do me the honor of becoming my wife."
"I will always be willing, Adrian," she said softly. "I swear it." As she studied his face, even more dear than it was beautiful, it was quite impossible to believe that her feelings would ever change.