The Merchant's Daughter

Perhaps time is an inconsistent healer, but God can purge even the most painful memories.

For us mortals, love is greater than justice.

Time blunts the pain and creates a mist over one’s memory — at least in the case of death and sorrow. Other types of pain linger longer.

He leaned toward her, his face only a breath away. His intense look captured her fully. His words rumbled from his chest. "If you love me, kiss me.

You just cry if you want to.” Eustacia’s voice was kind but firm. “Women cry. Men don’t understand it, but crying is what we do.

Ranulf stared at her. She was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, with the most flawless features, and he would have needed to lose both eyes not to notice. And her outward beauty wasn’t even the comeliest part about her.

His chest constricted painfully. He was a fool.

His eye focused on her face. His lips curved up ever so slightly at the corners. “You shouldn’t have come.” She forced her face into a scowl. “A fine thing to say to me when I just saved your life.” A sigh escaped his lips.

She was so beautiful and seemed so unaware of it. The wisps of blonde hair danced around her pink-tinted cheeks just as he had captured them in his painting. But even more devastating than her physical beauty were the glimpses he had seen of her heart and soul. God help him.

Mistress Eustacia sent me to have my bandage changed.” He looked disgruntled. She adjusted the pot so that it wasn’t directly over the fire then wiped her hands on her apron. He sat down impatiently on the bench against the wall. Annabel rummaged through the shelves until she found a container of honey and some bandages, smiling to herself at his reluctant compliance. Then

He stroked her cheek with two fingertips, his breath catching in his throat at the softness of her skin. He pulled her down into his lap. Instead of resisting, she snuggled against his shoulder.

You make me feel so safe.” She brought her knees up and tucked her head beneath his chin, curling up like a kitten on his chest. If he died now, he would die happy. His chest expanded and his whole body felt alive with pleasant sensations. He could be content to stay here, without moving, forever.

He’d never seen such a confident, impertinent smile on her face. He frowned. “You’re enjoying this too much.

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.

You deserve to love and be loved.

Do you think so?” Annabel felt dismayed. “Does God cause bad things to happen? Does the Bible say that?” The familiar scowl came over his features. “Sometimes God metes out judgment here on earth instead of waiting until the afterlife.” A low growl came from his throat. He shook his head. “I don’t wish to talk about that.” “Of course not, my lord. Forgive me for my presumption.” He blew out a frustrated breath. “It is my own bitterness … It isn’t your fault. The truth is, the Bible says God ‘has compassion on all He has made,’ wanting all to come to him and be saved. And you may ask me anything you wish. What was your question? Do troubles bring us closer to God? The answer is yes, they do, but we must choose it. Otherwise, our troubles do just the opposite. They push us away from God. ‘Cast all your anxiety on Him because He cares for you.

O God, don’t let them hurt Lord le Wyse. Help me, God. I have to save him. Why? the voice in her head asked. Why do you have to save him? The voice answered itself. Because you love him. I do! O God, I do love him. She’d loved him for a long time, and she suddenly wanted to tell him so, more than anything. But first she had to get to him before anyone else — before it was too late.

What would she say to Lord le Wyse? I love you? I’ve wanted to kiss you for weeks? She almost laughed. Obviously she was hysterical.

But Annabel was surprised at how much the sight of her in Lord le Wyse’s arms, then hanging on to him as he helped her down the steps, had made her want to slap Beatrice silly.

Ranulf’s heart did a strange stutter at the way she defended him. He longed to intervene, to stop the questioning.

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.

I … I want you to be happy.” She gazed back at him. Her brows drew together and she bit her lip. “I want you to be happy too.

Love tears out your heart, but pain is better than bitterness.

I didn’t believe any woman could love me, as disfigured as I am, and especially anyone as beautiful as you are, inside and out. I still can hardly believe it.

She wouldn’t have done it if he hadn’t looked at her the way he did. But she had wanted to be in his arms. In fact, she had wanted it … and enjoyed it … far too much.

May I ask if you have experience in the realm of shaving men?” “You may, and I do.” He’d never seen such a confident, impertinent smile on her face. He frowned. “You’re enjoying this too much.” “Forgive me. I am simply happy. Now hold still so that I don’t cut you.

I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.

Trust me, dear girl, you were born for love, for loving and caring and healing.” She

He pulled her closer, and she rested her forehead against his neck.

Father God, let my sufferings not be for nothing. And don’t let Annabel suffer any longer. Help her realize none of this is her fault. Protect her.