Chapter Three
Basking in the solitude and serenity of Ravenwood’s chapel, Constance knelt before the altar and stared up at the stained-glass window. She had no idea how long she’d been there, but her nerves had finally smoothened. Her knees, however, needed a break. With a sigh, she stood and stretched.
The window and chapel darkened as the sunlight faltered outside. The shuffle of footsteps invaded the sanctum, and she turned.
Her breath caught in her throat. Her pulse quickened.
Dominy!
She stared in disbelief at his hated eyes. His ruddy cheeks and greasy, graying hair.
He smirked. “Miss me?”
Sweat chilled every inch of her body. She couldn’t speak.
“What?” the archdeacon prodded. “No flowery words to welcome me?”
She glanced at his pectoral cross. Then she steeled herself and found her tongue. “How…when…why are you here?”
Shrugging, he played at nonchalance. “Father Cedric, Ravenwood’s priest, is my cousin.”
By all the saints! First the Mother Prioress and now this! “Have you kin over all creation, or just where I choose to be?”
He leered at her. “My, we think highly of ourselves, don’t we?”
“Do not presume to know what I think…of myself or anyone else.”
“Ha! I could always read your thoughts.” He slunk toward her.
She recoiled and backed into the hard altar. “Is that the lie you tell yourself when you seek God’s favor?”
“I needn’t seek it. ’Tis already mine.”
“Because you’ve been made an archdeacon?”
He raised his chin and pursed his thin lips. “Because I know God’s will.”
“Only if He’s in league with Satan.”
His beady eyes flared. “Sacrilege!”
“Truth!”
“Women know naught of truth.”
Heat flooded through her. “The Mother Prioress would be sorry to hear that.”
“She was sorry to learn of your leaving.”
Constance frowned. “How do you know?”
“I overheard her conversation with the knight. As soon as he mentioned Ravenwood, I knew I must visit my cousin.”
“When you’d only just arrived at St. Bartholomew’s?”
Dominy turned up his palms and gave her a sanctimonious look. “An archdeacon’s influence must be felt far and wide. But of course, you could never understand the weight of such a position. ’Tis simply beyond your capacity.”
Viperous vicar! “And the fact I journeyed hither…did that inform your decision?”
He slithered ever closer. The altar dug into her spine.
“What would you do if I said aye?”
Her mouth was dry as salted meat. She had to defend herself and thought fast. “I suppose I’d tell the man I’m to marry.”
His eyes narrowed to slits. “You’re to what?”
“You heard me.”
“I did, but I cannot believe it. Whom are you to wed?”
“The knight you mentioned. Sir Robert le Donjon.”
His eyes and mouth opened wide. He resembled a fish out of water, and she imagined his mind flipped and flopped in a desperate attempt to grasp the unexpected news.
At last, he spoke. “When did all this happen?”
She plucked another lie out of the ether. “During the ride north.”
“That was an eventful ride.”
“Quite.”
“Did the bridegroom also ride you?”
She gasped, then clenched her fists. “No.”
“Why else would you make such a rash decision? Then again, you’re prone to those, aren’t you, my dear?”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Dear, the Mother Prioress won’t part easily with your dowry.”
Constance bit her lip. With any luck, the issue would never come up. She had no intention of marrying. She’d write to the prioress and promise to return anon. Then she’d flee to Nihtscua and hide out with her sister until the archdeacon left the area for good.
She forced her hands to relax. “’Tis no concern of yours. Now, I must go and—”
“Don’t think to leave until I’ve excused you. You forget your place.”
“I forget nothing. You’d do well to remember that.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Are you threatening me?”
“I only want to leave without hindrance.” She stepped to the side to move past him.
He lurched to block her path. “Not so fast!”
A male voice rang out, “Forgive the intrusion.”
Dominy twitched and spun around. “Cedric.”
The bald priest stood at the chapel entrance. “Archdeacon.”
“Priest.” From his tone, Dominy clearly meant to belittle his cousin.
Father Cedric stepped forward. “I would speak with Lord Ravenwood’s guest.”
“I don’t see why—”
“Alone.” The priest’s voice echoed like a choir of angels off the vaulted ceiling.
Constance held her breath. Dominy threw her a scornful look over his shoulder, then left without another word. As if on cue, the sun shone through the window, and the chapel brightened.
She could breathe again. “Thank you…Father Cedric, is it?”
The priest nodded. “And you’re Lady Constance. Lady Ravenwood informed me of your arrival. Do forgive my cousin. He can be…difficult.”
You’ve no idea how difficult! “Did he tell you why he’s here?”
“Given our history, I expect he came to gloat about his recent elevation to the archdeaconship.”
“How long will he stay?”
Depression overtook Cedric’s features. “Through St. John’s Eve.”
“But that’s more than a month away!”
He shrugged. “Apparently, he wants to grace us with his presence on the feast day. But let’s not dwell on our trials. ’Tis quite fine out, and the orchard is in full bloom. Would your ladyship accompany me thither?”
The priest was a kind soul, through and through. She could sense it.
“I’d be happy to, Father.”
They quit the chapel and keep for the fresh air outside. Their talk flowed freely and centered on his kinswoman, the prioress, and the day-to-day affairs of the nunnery. Beyond the gatehouse and curtain wall, the orchard beckoned.
Constance drank in the sunlit landscape and the perfumed scent of trees in flower: apple, pear, plum, and walnut. Heaven!
Abruptly, she halted. Cedric followed suit and turned to her.
“My lady?”
She pointed and lowered her voice. “Who is that with Sir Robert?”
****
Robert and William strolled amid the rows of apple trees, whose blossoms attracted a number of bees and butterflies. A cool breeze coaxed several of the white petals to the ground.
William paused. “Is that Lady Constance?”
Robert followed his brother’s gaze. “Aye.”
Her hair glistened in the sun as she and the priest entered the orchard. The closer they drew, the pinker her cheeks appeared; from exertion or something else?
He cleared his throat as they closed the gap. “A pleasure to see you again, my lady. And you, Father Cedric.”
Cedric smiled. “Good to have you back, Sir Robert.”
“Many thanks. ’Tis good to be back.” Robert turned to William. “Lord Ravenwood, may I present Lady Constance de Bret? Lady Constance, this is Lord Ravenwood.”
William bowed. “My lady, you are most welcome. My brother tells me you’re Lady Nihtscua’s sister.”
She nodded. “That is so.”
“I hope you’ll feel free to stop here whenever you visit her.”
“You are most kind, my lord.”
William gave Robert a sideways glance, then hastened toward the priest. “Father Cedric, I would speak with you. Shall we return to the keep?”
Robert grinned. Smooth, Brother.
The priest straightened. “At once, my lord. Lady Constance, if you’ll excuse me…”
Her smile was as gracious as her manner. “Of course, Father. Thank you again.”
The sun reflected off his bald head as he gave her a nod. “Not at all. ’Twas my honor to serve your ladyship.”
Priest and lord departed. Once they were beyond hearing range, Robert regarded Constance.
“Forgive my curiosity, but how did Father Cedric serve you?”
Averting her gaze, she fidgeted. “How does any priest serve a child of God?”
“That’s as vague a reply as I’ve ever heard.”
Her eyes claimed his. “’Tis the only one I shall give.”
He arched an eyebrow. You nurse your secrets, don’t you?” “Very well. Pray, guide me toward a subject more suitable.”
She frowned, then her brow smoothened. “You look so like your brother.”
“And you look nothing like your sister.”
She nodded. “’Tis true. She has always outshone me.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Outshone you?”
“I don’t mind. Some are born to sparkle, others to live quietly in the shadows.”
“The shadows of a convent?”
She shrugged. “If that is one’s calling.”
“Are you certain ’tis yours?”
She looked away. “It must be.”
“Why, my lady?”
With a sigh, she regarded him. “You ask too many questions.”
He grinned and took a step closer. “You’re not the first to accuse me of that. But you might be the first to belittle your beauty.”
Her cheeks colored, and she stepped back. “Sir Robert, you mustn’t say such things.”
“I say what I think, and right this moment—”
“Then don’t think. And don’t speak falsehoods.”
Falsehoods? Was her opinion of herself so low? What on earth had warped it thus? “My lady, I speak true. You are the loveliest maiden I’ve ever beheld.”
A sudden gust shook the apple blossoms, and white petals rained down around her. One petal landed near her left eye, and she lifted her hand to remove it.
He lunged forward. “Allow me.” He seized the petal, then released it to the wind.
“Thank you.”
“Your ladyship is most welcome.”
She stared up at him, and the sunlight turned her eyes to gold. “There are moments when I feel I know you.”
Her words struck a chord deep within him. “And I you.”
“My, how cozy you two look.”
Constance flinched. Robert’s gaze snapped to the intruder.
Archdeacon Dominy!
Robert’s eyes narrowed. “What business have you here?”
The archdeacon didn’t blink. “Father Cedric is my cousin.”
“You came for a visit?”
“Something like that.”
“I’ve never seen you here before. Odd that your visit coincides with her ladyship’s.” He glanced at her.
The color had drained from her face. She inched closer to him, and he felt an instinctive need to protect her.
Dominy’s mouth twitched. “What’s odd is your reticence. When I questioned you this morning, you failed to mention your acquaintance.” He turned his ratlike eyes on Constance.
Robert thought fast. “I didn’t know her. Not then.”
“But you know her now, don’t you?”
“A little.”
“A lot, I’d imagine.” His tone was suggestive.
“Speak plainly, Archdeacon.”
Dominy clasped his hands together. “Allow me to congratulate you both on your betrothal.”
Robert’s eyes widened. “Betrothal?”
“You are to wed, are you not?” The archdeacon smirked.
Robert itched to smack the man’s simper all the way back to Newcastle. Better yet, to the Holy Land. Let the Turks show him the same “mercy” Hattin the Horrid had dealt William.
Dominy ogled Constance. “Or has the lady been telling tales?”
Robert turned to her. Her eyes pleaded with him, and he fancied he heard her thoughts.
Please, do not abandon me. You hold my future in your hands.
Squaring his shoulders, he turned back to Dominy. “This tale happens to be true.”
The archdeacon’s eyes narrowed. “Then why did you look so shocked a moment ago?”
“That wasn’t shock. ’Twas merely surprise that she’d shared the news. You see, we planned to keep it a secret.”
“Why? A secret implies—”
“Naught. There is no implication.”
Dominy pointed his nose to the sky. “There must be, or God would not have guided me to—”
“Stop right there. You call yourself a man of God?”
“I do, and the Church confirms it.”
Robert stepped closer to Constance. One inch more, and their arms would touch. “And your god would have you twist an innocent troth into sin?”
“If need be.”
“The only need in this case is for you to accept she will soon be my wife.”
“How soon?”
“Two days hence.” The answer came to Robert as though divined.
If he believed in such a thing. Which he didn’t.
The archdeacon’s face crumpled. “I see.”
The rolling trill of a robin filled the air. Dominy winced as the bird flitted past him.
Robert fought a smile. “Don’t let us keep you, Archdeacon. You surely have better things to do than listen to us chatter about wedding details.”
Dominy stared at him for a long moment. Then he performed a curt nod and scurried out of the orchard.
Constance heaved a sigh of relief. “God be praised! He’s gone. Once again, I am in your debt.”
Robert grinned. “Perchance I am in yours.”
“But you went along with my lie. Rather smoothly, I might add.”
“I didn’t lie.”
She frowned. “Of course you did.”
He shook his head. “Will you never tire of doubting my word?”
“Doubting your…what do you mean?”
Casually, he folded his arms. “I fully intend to marry you.”