Read Online Betrothed by Lori Snow - Free Book Online

pearl and gold link chain trimmed her girdle.
    Donovan
discretely inspected the gem encrusted crucifix dangling from her waist. He had
seen the beautiful piece years before and had read the detailed description of
it more recently.
    He
turned back to Isabeau to gain her reaction and found her floundering under the
study of an older serving woman. Isabeau’s delicate complexion paled even
further as she gave an almost indiscernible shake of her head and then reached
for her goblet. Her shaking fingers bumped the vessel. If not for Donovan’s
quick reflex, she would have been trying to mop up a puddle of the bitter brew.
    He
picked up a morsel of meat on his knife and offered it to Isabeau. She
nervously accepted. The pink color that warmed her cheeks pleased him. After
her tremulous smile of thanks, he found it easy to engage her in meaningless
chatter which made the meal speed by. His total absorption with Lady Isabeau
equated to an outright snub of his host and hostess but he would be the last
person to cater to their sensibilities.
    Donovan
heard Isabeau’s sigh of relief when the tables were cleared of the main
courses. The assortment of dried fruits and honeyed-nuts signaled the end of
the long meal and he still had yet to determine his course of action.
    Simon
stood to leave the table before his guest and liege—a breech of good
manners—but nudged a pewter bowl of nuts towards Donovan in an expected
overture. “You must try these sweets. Isabeau turns quite a talented hand at
them. They were a favorite of your boy.”
    Isabeau
sucked in her breath and Donovan saw all color leave her face.
    “What
is it, my lady?” he asked quietly.
    She
turned the fathoms of her green gaze in his direction. “I beg your forgiveness,
my lord. I don’t know what to say. That he should pour salt into the wound I
opened this morn?”
    He
felt his left eyebrow elevate. “What wound?”
    “The
reminder of your losses. I meant no harm when I spoke of Christian over our
morning bread.” Her fingers fluttered on his forearm before she tucked both
hands primly in her lap.
    She
pulled her lip between her teeth—presumably to conceal the trembling. The
gesture simply focused his attention on her mouth.
    Before
he could do anything inappropriate—like smoothing his thumb along her worried
lip, Donovan rolled his shoulders and turned to address Simon, only to find the
man on the other side of the great hall. He narrowly stared at the blue tunic.
Olivet was as slippery as his snake of a wife. Enough of this behavior! Had the
man no thought of the discipline his liege could employ?
    “Olivet!”
Donovan called loudly but apparently not loud enough -- at least not for his
host. Everyone stilled but Simon kept walking towards the staircase.
    “ Olivet !”
Donovan roared.
    Finally,
the man stopped and slowly—insolently -- rotated on the balls of his feet.
    “Yes,
my lord?”
    “Aye,
Olivet.” Donovan stood and held out a hand to Isabeau. “I will see you and Lady
Isabeau in your accounting room directly.”
    Dumfounded,
Donovan watched Simon turn as if to continue on his previous course. “Now!”
    With
the smallest acknowledgement, Simon slowly pivoted in the correct direction and
Donovan could have sworn he heard snickers coming from people remaining on the
main floor.
    Simon
suddenly speeded up his exit. The haste with which Simon now covered the ground
amused Donovan. Did he hope to hide something from his liege’s view? 
    He
turned to Isabeau and asked in a low undertone. “Would you care to join us, my
lady or would you rather visit with your sister-in-law?”
    Isabeau
glanced from Simon to Syllba and back to Donovan. A wry smile curved her pink
lips. “If truth be told, I’d rather lime the jakes.” She placed her trembling
palm to his.
     His
hand enveloped hers, but somehow fit perfectly. She stood and bravely followed
where he led. Even with her shoulders straight and chin high, he towered over
her. He felt like a