Free The Merchant's Daughter by Melanie Dickerson Page A

one.” His voice was flat, quiet.
    “As you wish, my lord.”
    “They belong to me, and they are no one’s concern but my own.”
    “Of course, my lord. I never meant to pry. I am most sincerely sorry, and I shall not tell anyone of your paintings.” Feeling a bit mischievous, and on a whim, she couldn’t help adding, “Even though they are very well done. They must have taken you a long time to paint.”
    His one eye narrowed at her and his jaw twitched, as though he was grinding his teeth. He opened his mouth to speak, but at that moment two maidens burst through the door, squealing about being wet and muddy.
    An angry scowl further darkened his face as he focused on the two maidens. “You aren’t supposed to be here now. Get out.” His voice boomed across the spacious hall.
    The young women’s eyes grew wide, and they bumped into each other, stumbling on each other’s hems in their scramble to get back out the door.
    Annabel hurried across the room and followed them out.

    Ranulf shook his head like a dog shaking rain from his fur.
    The girl thought she was clever, no doubt, but he felt almost as if she had peered into the deep, ugly corners of his soul. Those paintings weren’t meant for anyone’s eyes but his own. In fact, he often toyed with the idea of burning them.
    Women. They were all false. Disloyal to the core. And the beautiful ones were the worst. This one — Annabel — was from a family that had refused to do their share of the harvest work for years, and still clung to their vanity and pride though they had nothing but a stone house. He didn’t trust the girl for a moment. The fact that her eyes were a vivid blue, her lips perfectly formed,and her features feminine and alluring, made him trust her even less. And now Eustacia had elevated her to a kitchen assistant, her right-hand girl.
    He snorted in disgust. He had come here to forget; to forget women, to forget his past, and to enjoy the quiet, soothing life of the country. But there was no joy for him, a wounded beast of a man. He’d dreamed of her again last night, almost as soon as he fell asleep, the wife who had betrayed him. Every time he dreamed of her he ended up wandering through the woods, trying to outpace his mind and find peace. He was haunted, without hope of breaking free from his torturous memories.
    No matter how far he ran.

    “My father is here!” Adam grabbed Annabel’s hand, pulling her toward the sheepish Gilbert Carpenter. “He wants to meet you.”
    Stifling a groan, she allowed Adam to pull her to the other side of the upper hall, where his master-mason father stood watching them with a shy half smile. O God, save me from this! Determined not to get anyone’s hopes up, Annabel set her jaw. She would be honest and firm and set the man straight right off.
    But she had to do it without hurting Adam’s feelings.
    Whatever could she say?
    Gilbert Carpenter nodded. “Good evening, miss.” The master mason stood smiling at her, a faint blush creeping into his cheeks as he crushed a piece of cloth in his hands, working it over as if he were wringing laundry.
    “Father, this is Annabel. She’s very pretty, isn’t she?”
    The man cleared his throat, his ears taking on the same crimson glow. “Yes, Adam. Miss Annabel, I wonder if you would take a walk with me — only in the courtyard.”
    “Um, well, I — “ She cast about in her mind for a good excuse to say no.
    “I promise I won’t bite.” His smile was genuine, and his stance and voice were so nonthreatening that she found herself smiling back.
    “I cannot be away from my work very long.”
    “We won’t be gone long,” he assured her. “I asked Lord le Wyse for his permission to take a walk with you.”
    Annabel’s smile wavered, and she saw Lord le Wyse’s glare as he watched them from where he stood against the wall. What was he thinking when he looked at her that way? She felt sick.
    “Shall we go?” Gilbert looked down at her, his smile