Read Online A Kiss in the Night by Jennifer Horsman - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Jennifer Horsman
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to her mouth as if to contain an anguished cry. The fear of discovery, the fear of death, relief to find herself alive—all this brought her panic and tears forth.
"I fear I have lost all my good knights! They were slain like...like beasts of toil! These… these evildoers swept upon us like a cold gale wind from the very bowels of hell. I had just enough time to run to the woods to hide. I heard their screams…"
No man alive could have resisted the wholly feminine fear put in those eyes, and when her lovely face grew paler still, when she seemed to sway too far back, Morgan stepped to her and caught her up in his arms. "She has fainted!"
John Chamberlain, Morgan's uncle and steward, snapped an order to a startled servant. "Prepare the lady's rooms at once! And for God's sake, someone send for the lady's serving woman…the one who came yesterday. What was her name again? Mistress Clair, I believe."
Linness's eyes opened wide "My serving woman?!"
"Aye," Lord Morgan said, "she will be besotted with joy, no doubt. She thought, she seemed quite certain, you had died in the attack."
Morgan quickly carried Linness from the hall, his men following behind. The servant rushed out to find the matron Clair, calling out as he did so for help.
Linness began praying.
Outside and across the courtyard, Clair sat on the edge of a raised pallet in a small room she shared with four other serving women, blankets drawn around her sagging shoulders. The kind waiting woman of Gaillard had finally left her alone to her relentless tears. She could not stop crying as she relived the terror of yesterday, over and over, as if the next time she viewed it in the recess of her mind, it could change.
'Twas not that she would ever mourn the Lady Belinda's passing, but no one, not the lowest beast in France, deserved to die as that young, foolish girl had. The Lady Belinda would not go, no matter how she had begged and pleaded. She had begged Lady Belinda to run into the bushes with her; she had ordered it first in the girl's father's name, then her dear mother's, and at last she had used God's sacred name as a directive. To no avail.
"What do I have knights tor, I ask?" she had snapped back. "I shall not abandon the comfort of my carriage for a band of ruffians! I will not! If my knights are worth half the coin my father pays them, then these thieves shall be slain in blood, 1 want to watch."
Clair had been horrified by this crowning demonstration of the girl's obstinacy and disagreeable nature. The servants of Montegrel, the Lady Belinda's former home, had always frowned at the child's difficult nature, her constant complaints and extreme vanity, the cruelty of some of her more notorious deeds. "A real queen of Sheba, she thinks she is..." They'd shake their heads more and more often as Lady Belinda grew into womanhood and her faults seemed to increase with every inch of height. Even her dear mother had finally abandoned hope of the girl ever becoming a real lady of worth and charity. Everyone secretly looked forward to her marriage departure, especially the girl's good parents.
The thought of returning to Montegrel to tell them of the tragedy made her wail louder. She could not do it; she just couldn't. Besides, she didn't want to return. She had buried two husbands there, and in these last years of her life she had become increasingly tired of the same scenes and same faces each day, much as she cared for them. She had spent two years preparing to leave, at least two months saying good-bye to people she would not likely ever see again in this life, and it seemed so unfair to have wasted all those tears and fare-thee-wells. Oh Lord, why did this happen?
She remembered the good man Jean riding up to the carriage. "They are upon us! Run for cover, milady! Flee!"
"I will not, I tell you! I will not..."
T’were the last obstinate words their lady had uttered.
She had decided her duty did not require her to die with the girl for no good
"I fear I have lost all my good knights! They were slain like...like beasts of toil! These… these evildoers swept upon us like a cold gale wind from the very bowels of hell. I had just enough time to run to the woods to hide. I heard their screams…"
No man alive could have resisted the wholly feminine fear put in those eyes, and when her lovely face grew paler still, when she seemed to sway too far back, Morgan stepped to her and caught her up in his arms. "She has fainted!"
John Chamberlain, Morgan's uncle and steward, snapped an order to a startled servant. "Prepare the lady's rooms at once! And for God's sake, someone send for the lady's serving woman…the one who came yesterday. What was her name again? Mistress Clair, I believe."
Linness's eyes opened wide "My serving woman?!"
"Aye," Lord Morgan said, "she will be besotted with joy, no doubt. She thought, she seemed quite certain, you had died in the attack."
Morgan quickly carried Linness from the hall, his men following behind. The servant rushed out to find the matron Clair, calling out as he did so for help.
Linness began praying.
Outside and across the courtyard, Clair sat on the edge of a raised pallet in a small room she shared with four other serving women, blankets drawn around her sagging shoulders. The kind waiting woman of Gaillard had finally left her alone to her relentless tears. She could not stop crying as she relived the terror of yesterday, over and over, as if the next time she viewed it in the recess of her mind, it could change.
'Twas not that she would ever mourn the Lady Belinda's passing, but no one, not the lowest beast in France, deserved to die as that young, foolish girl had. The Lady Belinda would not go, no matter how she had begged and pleaded. She had begged Lady Belinda to run into the bushes with her; she had ordered it first in the girl's father's name, then her dear mother's, and at last she had used God's sacred name as a directive. To no avail.
"What do I have knights tor, I ask?" she had snapped back. "I shall not abandon the comfort of my carriage for a band of ruffians! I will not! If my knights are worth half the coin my father pays them, then these thieves shall be slain in blood, 1 want to watch."
Clair had been horrified by this crowning demonstration of the girl's obstinacy and disagreeable nature. The servants of Montegrel, the Lady Belinda's former home, had always frowned at the child's difficult nature, her constant complaints and extreme vanity, the cruelty of some of her more notorious deeds. "A real queen of Sheba, she thinks she is..." They'd shake their heads more and more often as Lady Belinda grew into womanhood and her faults seemed to increase with every inch of height. Even her dear mother had finally abandoned hope of the girl ever becoming a real lady of worth and charity. Everyone secretly looked forward to her marriage departure, especially the girl's good parents.
The thought of returning to Montegrel to tell them of the tragedy made her wail louder. She could not do it; she just couldn't. Besides, she didn't want to return. She had buried two husbands there, and in these last years of her life she had become increasingly tired of the same scenes and same faces each day, much as she cared for them. She had spent two years preparing to leave, at least two months saying good-bye to people she would not likely ever see again in this life, and it seemed so unfair to have wasted all those tears and fare-thee-wells. Oh Lord, why did this happen?
She remembered the good man Jean riding up to the carriage. "They are upon us! Run for cover, milady! Flee!"
"I will not, I tell you! I will not..."
T’were the last obstinate words their lady had uttered.
She had decided her duty did not require her to die with the girl for no good
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