Catherine Coulter by The Valcourt Heiress Page A

of Brennan? Would he tell her mother? Could her mother then simply come here and demand to have her back?
    No, it couldn’t happen, wouldn’t happen. She was safe as long as she was useful to him. She planned to be very useful to him.
    “If you are of no importance, then why keep your identity from me?”
    She was silent as a rock.
    “But you admit there are those who want you. Tell me who they are. Do you not believe I will protect you?”
    She looked up at him. She had no more words.
    Garron said, “It is your father who searches for you, isn’t it? You ran away, didn’t you? Why?”
    “No, no, not my father.”
    “Ah, so it is someone else who wants you. Your mother, perhaps? A woman has no power, there is no reason to fear your mother.”
    If you only knew .
    “Don’t you believe I can protect you?”
    “Maybe.”
    Well, that was something. “Yet you want me to trust you? Trust you when you will not trust me with the truth? And for no logical reason I can think of?” He paused a moment, stroking his chin. “Mayhap you do know of the silver. You are a thief, here to steal it. Mayhap you are the one who poisoned my brother.”
    “Don’t be ridiculous. I wasn’t even here at Wareham! Listen, Garron, my lies are of no importance either. I am simply trying to protect myself. In truth I am a simple girl, young, and as you say, well made.”
    He did not smile. He leaned back against the rampart wall and crossed his arms over his chest, an intimidating pose, one she suspected he used quite often.
    “The fact is, I am here and I am able to help you return Wareham to its former glory. You are fortunate the keep wasn’t razed to the ground. We can rebuild all that needs to be rebuilt. Surely you can trust me in that, can you not? Were the roasted meats not delicious? Were not the stones in the great hall cleaned and swept? I can do more, I will do more. Your people will help me. They approve of me.”
    He stared down at her a moment. The black clouds had moved in, bringing instant darkness. He couldn’t see her expression clearly. “You could be an enemy,” he said slowly, “you could be here to murder me as my brother was murdered.”
    She didn’t move; he saw her hands clench into fists, but she didn’t rise to the bait. “I am not your enemy. Indeed, I am very happy to be here. Please, let me earn my keep. Let me help you and your people.”
    “Who taught you what to do?”
    “Mayhap you could think of me as a witch. A witch can do anything.” A door suddenly opened in her mind. She was perhaps six years old, the first time she could remember seeing her mother. She had come to Valcourt to see Merry’s father, why, she didn’t know. She remembered soldiers followed her, even into the great hall. Merry crept after her to her chamber that night, the child wanting to be close to her mother. Instead, she’d watched her mother fall gracefully to her knees before a small pile of what looked to Merry like dried weeds. She listened to her mother’s beautiful voice chant strange words even as she crushed more weeds in her hands and threw them on the pile. Then she made a strange circular sign with her fingers. Merry watched her sprinkle what appeared to be sand over the weeds. They burst into flames. She’d never been so afraid in her life.
    She’d said nothing to anyone. She was too afraid. And she’d begun to hear the whispers then, everyone at Valcourt spoke behind their hands of her mother, and witchcraft. Was her mother really a witch? If so, why had she sought out a religious life? Why had she left her and her father and entered Meizerling Abbey?
    Garron gave a sharp laugh. “You, a witch? You are too guileless to be a witch. Besides, there is no such thing.” He looked away from her, back out over the sea, searched to see the horizon. “Just a moment ago, the water was flat, running smooth and black. Now you can practically feel the water pulse deep beneath the surface. Listen to the waves