Read Online Bride by Command by Linda Winstead Jones - Free Book Online
Authors: Linda Winstead Jones
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and rough conditions. “I believe you will be quite comfortable in your new home, though you might find it in need of a woman’s touch.”
“I can only imagine,” she said dryly. “Where is your house located?”
Jahn laughed. “House? I have no house.”
She blinked hard. “Then where do you live?”
“I told you early on, love, that I lease a room over one of the finest taverns in Arthes. Have you forgotten?” Had she even been listening? “Our room is near to the palace, which is handy, and only a few steps from the best ale in town, which is also very handy.”
“I can’t live over a tavern!”
“Of course you can,” Jahn said smoothly.
Her eyes narrowed. “Do you drink very much?”
“When the spirit moves me, I suppose I do.”
Her mouth pursed in obvious disapproval. “I will not have a drunkard husband.”
Jahn was taken aback. Had she, or had she not, just referred to him as her husband? She was supposed to be horrified to find herself in this position; she was supposed to fervently wish for the opportunity she had so blithely dismissed only a few days ago.
“I will not have a woman tell me what I can and cannot do,” Jahn responded tightly, “unless we are in bed, of course, and then I am quite amenable to direction.” He did not give her a chance to respond to that. “Besides, a man must have a leisure pursuit of some sort, in order to shake off the stress of a long workday.”
“Drinking to excess is not a leisure pursuit!” Morgana argued.
“Of course it is. There are not many diversions suitable for a man like me,” Jahn said, shucking off his sentinel’s vest and beginning to make himself comfortable for the long evening ahead. “Drinking, womanizing, gambling . . .”
“None of those are acceptable. What’s wrong with woodworking or gardening or learning to play a musical instrument?”
Jahn looked at Morgana and grinned. “You’re joking, right?”
“No husband of mine is going to drink, gamble, or womanize,” she said.
Again with the “husband.” Jahn leaned close, enjoying the glow of her skin and the light in her eyes as she argued with him. “Need I remind you, love, that I am not yet officially your husband?”
Instead of getting angry or haughty, she blushed and turned her head to the side, breaking eye contact. “No, you need not remind me.”
Interesting . . .
DANYA sat between her sister Hetta and her brother-in-law Bevan at the long dinner table on this last night in her childhood home. The small children, her innumerable nephews and nieces, had all been fed and put to bed early, thank the heavens. The family seemed quite proud of their ability to reproduce. Two of her sisters were pregnant once again, but were not so far along that they couldn’t travel a short distance for an important family gathering.
All of them were excited about the prospect of having a sister in the Columbyanan palace. Danya had not yet told her sisters that if she was chosen empress, she would cut all ties with her family as soon as possible. Her father, who sat at the head of the table with a large ewer of wine, did not seem to be at all impressed or sad. As usual, he was quiet and without emotion. He had already drunk too much wine, and before the meal was finished, he’d be nodding off in his chair and everyone would ignore the embarrassment.
Logically, she realized her mother and her sisters had done nothing to earn her dislike. They simply reminded her of a life she wanted desperately to leave behind; they reminded her too sharply of her failings. Her fresh start should be entirely fresh!
The deputy minister of whatever, whose name she could not recall, sat at the other end of the table. The poor, unsuspecting man was positioned between Althea and Rodric, so he had her sympathy. The imperial man from Arthes was a quiet sort who wore his fair hair in a long, well-tended braid and often kept his eyes down. He revealed little in the way of emotion, even
“I can only imagine,” she said dryly. “Where is your house located?”
Jahn laughed. “House? I have no house.”
She blinked hard. “Then where do you live?”
“I told you early on, love, that I lease a room over one of the finest taverns in Arthes. Have you forgotten?” Had she even been listening? “Our room is near to the palace, which is handy, and only a few steps from the best ale in town, which is also very handy.”
“I can’t live over a tavern!”
“Of course you can,” Jahn said smoothly.
Her eyes narrowed. “Do you drink very much?”
“When the spirit moves me, I suppose I do.”
Her mouth pursed in obvious disapproval. “I will not have a drunkard husband.”
Jahn was taken aback. Had she, or had she not, just referred to him as her husband? She was supposed to be horrified to find herself in this position; she was supposed to fervently wish for the opportunity she had so blithely dismissed only a few days ago.
“I will not have a woman tell me what I can and cannot do,” Jahn responded tightly, “unless we are in bed, of course, and then I am quite amenable to direction.” He did not give her a chance to respond to that. “Besides, a man must have a leisure pursuit of some sort, in order to shake off the stress of a long workday.”
“Drinking to excess is not a leisure pursuit!” Morgana argued.
“Of course it is. There are not many diversions suitable for a man like me,” Jahn said, shucking off his sentinel’s vest and beginning to make himself comfortable for the long evening ahead. “Drinking, womanizing, gambling . . .”
“None of those are acceptable. What’s wrong with woodworking or gardening or learning to play a musical instrument?”
Jahn looked at Morgana and grinned. “You’re joking, right?”
“No husband of mine is going to drink, gamble, or womanize,” she said.
Again with the “husband.” Jahn leaned close, enjoying the glow of her skin and the light in her eyes as she argued with him. “Need I remind you, love, that I am not yet officially your husband?”
Instead of getting angry or haughty, she blushed and turned her head to the side, breaking eye contact. “No, you need not remind me.”
Interesting . . .
DANYA sat between her sister Hetta and her brother-in-law Bevan at the long dinner table on this last night in her childhood home. The small children, her innumerable nephews and nieces, had all been fed and put to bed early, thank the heavens. The family seemed quite proud of their ability to reproduce. Two of her sisters were pregnant once again, but were not so far along that they couldn’t travel a short distance for an important family gathering.
All of them were excited about the prospect of having a sister in the Columbyanan palace. Danya had not yet told her sisters that if she was chosen empress, she would cut all ties with her family as soon as possible. Her father, who sat at the head of the table with a large ewer of wine, did not seem to be at all impressed or sad. As usual, he was quiet and without emotion. He had already drunk too much wine, and before the meal was finished, he’d be nodding off in his chair and everyone would ignore the embarrassment.
Logically, she realized her mother and her sisters had done nothing to earn her dislike. They simply reminded her of a life she wanted desperately to leave behind; they reminded her too sharply of her failings. Her fresh start should be entirely fresh!
The deputy minister of whatever, whose name she could not recall, sat at the other end of the table. The poor, unsuspecting man was positioned between Althea and Rodric, so he had her sympathy. The imperial man from Arthes was a quiet sort who wore his fair hair in a long, well-tended braid and often kept his eyes down. He revealed little in the way of emotion, even
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