Connie Mason (3 page)

Edmond’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “How fortunate that he should come to us now.”

Mariah bristled. “Do not even think it, Edmond. We have no idea who this man is. He may have a wife and children awaiting him somewhere. He could be a common criminal.”

“Do you think he is a criminal?”

“Nay,” Mariah admitted. “I would describe him as a fighting man, mayhap a soldier or knight.”

Edmond struggled to his feet. “I wish to see the man who has captured your fancy.”

“Edmond! I have done no more than care for a man near death.”

He resumed his seat. “Forgive an old man’s musings, my dear. Find out his name. Perhaps I know his people.”

When Mariah entered Falcon’s chamber a short time later, she found him leaning against the bedpost, panting as if he’d just run a great distance.

“ ’Tis too soon for you to be out of bed,” she scolded. “You must remain in bed until Edwina says you are well enough to leave it.”

“I cannot regain my strength if I lie in bed all day. There is someplace I need to be, though I cannot name it.”

“The only place you need to be right now is in bed. Let me help you.”

“I can help myself. Turn away, lady; I am unclothed.”

As if suddenly aware of Falcon’s state of undress, Mariah turned her back.

Slowly Falcon eased his way into bed and pulled the coverlet up to his waist. “You can turn around now.”

Mariah turned. “Are you hungry?”

“Famished. How long have I been here?”

“Seven days.”

His eyes widened. “Seven days? Truly?”

The swelling around his eyes had receded, and for the first time Mariah saw their color. They were golden and compelling, not dark as she had imagined. Distracted by her discovery, Mariah took a moment to recall his question. “Truly, sir.”

“You called me sir. Do you not know my name?”

“You have yet to provide one.”

Falcon stared at her. “I was hoping you could tell me.”

Mariah gasped. “What are you saying?”

His eyes glowed with desperation. “I recall naught before the moment I woke up in this bed. I hoped you could help me remember.”

Mariah shook her head, saddened by his plight. “I have never seen you before you were brought to the castle, grievously injured and near death. Mayhap your head injury resulted in a temporary loss of memory. I have heard of such a thing happening. I’m sure you will remember in time. I will consult with Edwina about your memory loss.”

Disheartened, Falcon sank against the pillow and closed his eyes. “Whenever I try to think, my head feels as if a thousand demons are bedeviling me. Of what use am I? I can’t even use the chamber pot without help.”

“I’ll send a manservant to help you. Do whatever it is you need to do while I fetch you something to eat.”

“Wait! I have a question.”

Mariah turned away from the door. “What is it?”

“Who are you?”

“I am Mariah of Mildenhall.”

The door opened. Edmond tottered in, assisted by two servants. They eased him into a chair and left to await him outside the chamber. He studied Falcon for several minutes, then smiled.

“Edwina said you would live, and she was right.”

“Who are you, sir?” Falcon asked.

“I am Edmond, Earl of Mildenhall.”

“Forgive me for not rising, my lord. Your daughter tells me I have been the recipient of your hospitality for several days.”

The old man’s eyebrows lifted. “Ah, yes, my
daughter
Mariah. ’Tis a sad thing to be widowed so young.”

Mariah shot her husband a warning look. “Edmond—”

Edmond held up his hand. “Please, Mariah, I wish to speak to the young man. What is your name, sir?”

“I was hoping someone here could tell me,” Falcon answered.

“Can you not remember?”

“Nay. I feel as if I should be somewhere but cannot recall where. Do you know me? Can you tell me my name?”

Edmond shook his head. “I have never seen you before, so ’tis safe to say you are not from these parts. Do not worry, lad, you are welcome at Mildenhall while you regain your memory. Besides, Edwina tells me it will be weeks before you are able to travel. I pray you will accept our hospitality while your mind and body heal. It would be remiss of me to send you away without a memory.”

“Thank you, my lord,” Falcon replied in a voice made hollow with despair. Not knowing his name or origins was a humbling experience.

“Forgive me for cutting my visit short, but as you can
see, I am not a well man.” Edmond held out his hand to Mariah. “Come, daughter, I would have a word with you in my chamber.”

Mariah kept her silence until Edmond was settled in his bed and the servants dismissed.

“Whatever were you thinking?” she demanded, rounding on him. “You deliberately lied to . . . to . . . Oh, I don’t even know what to call him.”

“Call him a miracle sent by God to save us, to save you. That young man is a maiden’s dream.”

“I am not a maiden. I am a wife. Your wife.”

Edmond shook his head. “I have never been a true husband to you. Let me die in peace. Give me an heir to save Mildenhall and carry on my name and title.”

“Do not push me into this, Edmond, I beg you. If I did what you asked, I could have a daughter, and then where would I be?”

“That young man I just saw will give you a son.”

“How do you know that?”

“Some believe Edwina is a witch. I do not believe in witches, but I do believe she can see things others cannot. She knows how desperately I need an heir, and told me the nameless man in the bed will give you a son.”

“No one but God can determine that,” Mariah insisted.

“You know Edwina’s predictions have proven true in the past. Why are you being so obstinate about this?”

“Because what you suggest is a sin.”

Edmond closed his eyes. “Leave me,” he said wearily. “I will die soon and cannot bear the thought of Osgood forcing you from your home or into an intolerable marriage with his son.”

Mariah hesitated a moment before taking her leave. Instead
of returning to the sickroom, she went to the chapel to pray for guidance. She had never disobeyed her husband in all the years of their marriage, but what he wanted her to do went against God’s law.

The chapel was a peaceful place this time of day. Mariah knelt on the wooden kneeler, folded her hands and began to pray. To her dismay, her mind kept wandering to the man with no memory, the man whose golden eyes were filled with confusion and pain. Little by little his face had returned to normal, revealing a ruggedly handsome visage that would turn any woman’s head.

His body proclaimed him a fighting man. Was he a knight? Was someone he loved even now looking for him? Did he have a wife? A betrothed? She had to admit he was magnificently put together, and wondered what it would be like to have a man like that in her bed. Looking at him set off all kinds of wicked thoughts inside her head. She stirred restlessly, her body making her aware of feelings that were strangely arousing. Strange because she’d never had them before.

She prayed harder.

“You seem troubled, my child.”

Startled, Mariah looked up at Father Francis, the resident priest. “I didn’t hear you, Father.” She concentrated on her clasped hands, embarrassed to be caught thinking impure thoughts in a holy place.

“You were lost in prayer, my lady.” He gazed at her, as if he himself were deeply troubled.

Father Francis had come to Mildenhall many years ago; he was here when she had arrived to live with Edmond. Though he was old and not as spry as he used to
be, his keen intelligence and sharp eyes missed naught that went on at Mildenhall.

“I just spoke with Lord Edmond, Lady Mariah.”

Mariah’s attention sharpened. She watched him with trepidation as he began to pace back and forth in front of her. “Is something wrong, Father?”

“Lord Edmond told me about the stranger Edwina is nursing back to health.”

“What did he say?”
Surely Edmond didn’t tell him what he wants me to do, did he?

“We discussed the possibility of Lord Edmond’s dying without an heir, and what it would mean to you.”

She clutched her throat. “Dear Lord, what did he tell you?”

The priest swung around, his brown robes swirling about his skinny legs. “Everything.”

She hid her face in her hands. “Oh, no. You must forgive Edmond! He is worried about me and Mildenhall. I did not for one moment countenance committing such a grave sin.”

Father Francis continued his pacing. “Edmond is right about many things. Osgood is a cruel man. Our people will not fare well under his guidance.” He whirled to face her. “Mildenhall will fall into ruin.”

He fell to his knees beside Mariah. “God forgive me,” he implored. “Never have I been so challenged in my faith. What Edmond suggests is a sin, yet I cannot condemn his reasoning or fault his judgment, for it is sound. Mildenhall needs an heir to survive, and Edmond cannot give you one.”

Mariah leapt to her feet. “I must go.”

“I will pray on this dilemma,” Father Francis said, waving her off.

Mariah all but ran out the door. Had the world gone mad? How could a man of God condone adultery? Yet . . . yet, the priest had all but encouraged her to seduce the nameless man who had come to them. A laugh caught in her throat. As if she knew how to seduce a man. Her steps slowed. Would he welcome her attention should she offer it?

Edwina hailed Mariah in the great hall. Mariah stopped and waited for the healer. “What is it, Edwina? Is there a problem with your patient?”

“Nay, he is progressing well, milady. I just left him. He asked about you. He wanted to know how your husband had died.”

“What did you tell him?”

“Naught. ’Tis for you to decide whether or not you will make the sacrifice for Mildenhall.”

“Aye, it
is
my decision, my sacrifice,” Mariah agreed. She walked away, her mind in turmoil. Without realizing where she was headed, she found herself climbing the stairs to the solar and entering the injured man’s chamber.

Falcon was restless. He had asked Edwina for a looking glass. She had brought him a silver tray, polished to a high sheen. He had gazed upon his face for the first time and seen a stranger—a man with no past and no future.

Earlier today, a manservant had scraped the hair from Falcon’s face. He had hoped he would recognize his face without hair. A familiar feature, mayhap. He had seen naught but a man with odd golden eyes, dark hair, twin slashes of black eyebrows and generous lips. Though his
nose was somewhat long, the dimple in his chin softened his harsh features.

He had found a scar above his left eyebrow and another to the right of the dimple. And he didn’t remember how he’d come by either of them! Earlier he had discovered scars on his left thigh and right knee. The only thing he could deduce from his findings was that he was a fighting man, which would also account for his muscular build.

Falcon had never felt more alone or desperate, or at least he thought he hadn’t. And then Mariah entered the chamber, bringing sunshine and warmth, chasing away the fear that threatened to consume him.

“Edwina said you were asking questions about me.”

A corner of his split lips lifted into a half smile. “Whenever you are with me I feel better,” Falcon said. “Stay awhile and talk to me. Tell me about yourself.”

Though she feared she was making a mistake, Mariah sank down into a chair. “What is it you want to know?”

“Your father said you were a widow. How long ago did your husband die?”

Mariah should stop this charade now. “A few months ago.”

“How did he die?”

How?
“A . . . hunting accident. Please, I don’t want to talk about him.”

“You must have loved him very much.”

Mariah sought a way to change the subject and found it. “We should give you a name until you can remember your own. Do you have a preference?”

His brain scrambled for memory, found only terror and empty spaces. He shook his head.

Mariah cocked her head and tapped her lips with a fingertip.
Falcon felt a stirring he knew was not new to him. Aye, this golden-haired, blue-eyed angel stirred him, made him feel alive and eased his fear.

“You are beautiful, lady,” he murmured, unable to help himself. “Your husband was a lucky man.”

“I . . . I suppose. We were talking about your name. What shall I call you?”

A sense of angry impotence filled him.
He didn’t know!
His mind was as blank as a newborn babe’s. He sent her a look fraught with terror.

Mariah’s heart ached, unable to bear his pain. “Until you regain your memory, I shall call you Sir Knight. Now you should rest, and I have duties to attend.”

He grasped her hand. “Nay, do not go. When I am alone, I am consumed by demons.”

How could Mariah refuse? “Very well. I will stay for a little while.”

Mariah perched on the edge of the bed. Who was this man? She knew he was feeling terror—anyone would in his situation. It must be frightening to look at your own face and see a stranger, or to have your memory completely erased. Though she felt attracted to him, that attraction hadn’t lessened her sense of right and wrong.

“What are you thinking?” Falcon asked.

She blushed and looked away, relieved that he could not read her mind.

His gaze swept over her. She was wearing a blue gown today, a color that closely matched her eyes. The neckline was modest, but it did naught to disguise the lush curves of her breasts.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Mariah asked.

“You are fair to look at. Are you sure we have never met before?”

“Aye, Sir Knight, I never set eyes on you until you were brought to Mildenhall. Perhaps I resemble your mother, or wife.”

Falcon looked away, as if searching for something familiar.
“Nay, I am sure my mother is not fair like you, and I feel no connection to a wife. Although . . .”

“What?”

He shook his head. “I am confident I am not wed.”

Reaching out, he stroked her cheek. She pulled back as if stung.

“Forgive me, I had no right.”

Mariah dragged in a calming breath. What was wrong with her? The burning sensation that lingered where Sir Knight had touched her was a new one. His innocent caress raised bumps on her skin. She felt heat rise to her cheeks, then spread downward to private places.