The coroner is a fiend.
“Nay.” Her voice was raspy. She tried to swallow, but her throat had gone dry. “Lord le Wyse is a good man. He would never hurt anyone.” Tears pricked her eyes again, she didn’t know why. She glanced at her lord and saw his face was flushed. The urge to jump up and go to him was so strong that she grabbed the stool she was sitting on with both hands and clutched the rough wood with all her might.
“So the person who almost killed the bailiff was not a good man?”
“I didn’t say that. Oh, how would I know?” Annabel bit her lip, feeling she had slipped and said the wrong thing. But she couldn’t let the coroner think Lord le Wyse was guilty.
Sir Clement rubbed his chin again, staring blankly at the wall. “You must understand, Lord le Wyse’s involvement makes sense. After all, he’s the one who found the body. It’s only a matter of time before the people of Glynval start pointing fingers in his direction …” He let his voice trail off.
His words chilled her. Naturally, some people might suspect her lord. Few had seen beyond his scars and rough demeanor to the man inside. But everyone knew the bailiff, and he seemed well liked, though she couldn’t imagine why. If they knew how Tom atte Water actually behaved … How could she allow people to accuse Lord le Wyse?
Her mind went back to the first time he allowed her to read his Bible. And when he’d burned himself saving the ewe lamb, how her heart had gone out to him; and he’d borne his injury with such patience, never complaining. How could she allow anyone to falsely accuse him? She couldn’t bear the thought of him being hurt again.
“Lord le Wyse is innocent.”
“The only way you can prove that is to tell me who struck the bailiff.”
“I cannot tell you that.”
“Then I cannot be sure your Lord le Wyse is innocent, can I?” The coroner began pacing toward Ranulf, intent in his eyes.
“It … was an accident.”
The coroner turned abruptly. “So you did see it. What happened?”
Annabel pressed her lips together so hard she tasted blood.
“Did you want to kill him?”
“No!”
“Who did?”
“He didn’t mean to do it.” Her voice was a whisper.
“Who was it?” the coroner hissed.
“I will not tell you. But he never intended to kill him.”
“Perhaps you will tell the jury that is being summoned by the hundred bailiff. Hmm?” He raised his eyebrows at her, and a slight smile lifted his thin lips.
He then turned to Lord le Wyse. “I think I’ll take a walk. I shall return shortly, and then I’d like to speak with this Maud, the bailiff’s daughter.”
The coroner brushed by Lord le Wyse, whistling as he flung open the door and disappeared outside.
So it was over — for the moment. She had revealed so much! Too much. The coroner now knew that she had seen who struck the bailiff. How could she have allowed him to wrench that much of the truth from her? But at least she hadn’t betrayed Stephen — not yet. She would still have to face a jury and the entire village of Glynval.
Her hands shook. The shattered look on her lord’s face squeezed her heart. Was he angry that she had not revealed the identity of the person who struck the bailiff? After all, she was allowing suspicion to fall on him — the jury was sure to accuse Lord le Wyse as Sir Clement had. She had the power to clear her lord’s name forever, but she had chosen to protect someone else.
Her chest ached. She couldn’t bear to think she had hurt him, or that he might be angry with her.
Her words came out halting and slow. “I am — so sorry. Pray — forgive me.”
“Forgive you?” His brow creased.
“For not telling — who — struck the bailiff.”
Lord le Wyse let out a shuddering breath and passed his palm across his eyes. He looked at her with so much sympathy, he seemed to draw her to him.
Annabel slipped her trembling fingers into his large, warm hand, and he gently pulled her to her feet. “I forgive you,” he said, “and I understand.”
Without thinking, she leaned against him, pressing her forehead against his shoulder. They stood like that, unmoving, while Annabel concentrated on calming her breathing and forcing away the tears that still threatened. She smelled the familiar lavender, which Mistress Eustacia placed inside his clean laundry, but also a warm, masculine smell that was distinctly Ranulf’s. She felt soothed, safe, and she never wanted this moment to end.
Ranulf stared down at Annabel’s tearstained face. He closed his eyes against the sight of her, savoring the feel of her hand in his.
His eyes flicked wide as he felt her body lean against his. Sweet agony. He hesitated to touch her, but finally he put his arms around her and drew in a deep, ragged breath. “Holy saints above,” he whispered.