Read Online By the Light of the Moon by Laila Blake - Free Book Online
Authors: Laila Blake
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choice and that she could be happy if she just gave in. If he didn’t care about her, she had little doubt that he wouldn’t insist on seeing her every day, and her life wouldn’t change all that much. But she would be married, would no longer be considered a child and she would be able to ask him to remove her prison guard. And still, as much as she tried, she couldn’t stop her body from locking down at the idea, couldn’t keep it breathing or keep it from crying or get it to sleep.
“I hear that he is a most excellent sword-fighter, a good jouster, too. And in the royal hunt last year, he brought down the second largest stag. He is a good man, Moira. A man you should be proud to marry.”
When Moira was alone with her maid, she almost liked the soft little tugs at her hair, the way she had to sit absolutely still, and someone else was moving their hands and fingers so close to her scalp; it wasn’t being alone, it wasn’t quiet but wasn’t bad. Being watched while Bess was putting her hair up, however, was setting her teeth on edge and made the little down on her back raise with the need to shake herself, shake it off and just scream until she could drown out the constant drone of her stepmother’s voice.
“Really, I swear to the heavens, child … sometimes I wonder if you are even listening to a word I say.”
“I am,” Moira said quietly, blinking and staring ahead. How could she not? It would have been far easier if she had any way not to, any way to block it out but she had never acquired that particular skill that most other people seemed to take for granted.
“At least give him a chance, will you? You know what happens if heavens forbid, your father should die before you get married.” Lady Cecile exhaled a deep sigh, shaking her head, “What will happen then … to either of us?”
“I know, mother.”
“You are not a child anymore, Moira, and it is high time you started thinking of these things. He is a good catch and I don’t see a better one on the horizon.”
“Yes … mother.”
• • •
Moira did not look at her guard who was waiting for her when she exited her chambers, hair elaborately and intricately styled and wrapped in silks and gold and pearls. It was too much. It wasn’t her, nor did she feel like herself; and his presence there was just another reminder of the utter lack of control she had over her own life.
Instead, she followed her stepmother down the corridor, eyes on the back of Lady Cecile’s head where the curls and braids and intricate designs always looked a little more at home, a little more in place. And then all she had to do was continue to do it; to keep walking to all those places she didn’t actually want to go.
She was being led to the library again, where her father seemed deep in conversation with Deagan Fairester. He was a little taller than her father and had a fineness of features that her father never could have possessed, even in his youth. They both turned around when the ladies entered and bowed before Moira and Cecile curtsied in turn.
“Darling,” Lord Rochmond enthused, but she did not recognize the smile on his face easily. “You have met Master Deagan, son of Lord Hindrick Fairester?”
“Of course,” Moira replied, stepping forward, wary and careful. “It is a pleasure to receive you at Rochmond Castle again, sir.”
Words. Words she had learned.
“My lady, I’m quite enchanted to see you again.” He had a fair face, small featured but handsome and intelligent. Moira didn’t think that he had changed much in the weeks since he had been to Castle Rochmond, except maybe that his smile was broader, just around the lips.
“My father tells me that you are well but I had to see it for my own eyes. You are growing ever more beautiful, milady.”
“Thank you, Sir Fairester.”
“I should thank you; and your lord father, of course, for your hospitality. It is always a pleasure to visit. I simply had to come back before
“I hear that he is a most excellent sword-fighter, a good jouster, too. And in the royal hunt last year, he brought down the second largest stag. He is a good man, Moira. A man you should be proud to marry.”
When Moira was alone with her maid, she almost liked the soft little tugs at her hair, the way she had to sit absolutely still, and someone else was moving their hands and fingers so close to her scalp; it wasn’t being alone, it wasn’t quiet but wasn’t bad. Being watched while Bess was putting her hair up, however, was setting her teeth on edge and made the little down on her back raise with the need to shake herself, shake it off and just scream until she could drown out the constant drone of her stepmother’s voice.
“Really, I swear to the heavens, child … sometimes I wonder if you are even listening to a word I say.”
“I am,” Moira said quietly, blinking and staring ahead. How could she not? It would have been far easier if she had any way not to, any way to block it out but she had never acquired that particular skill that most other people seemed to take for granted.
“At least give him a chance, will you? You know what happens if heavens forbid, your father should die before you get married.” Lady Cecile exhaled a deep sigh, shaking her head, “What will happen then … to either of us?”
“I know, mother.”
“You are not a child anymore, Moira, and it is high time you started thinking of these things. He is a good catch and I don’t see a better one on the horizon.”
“Yes … mother.”
• • •
Moira did not look at her guard who was waiting for her when she exited her chambers, hair elaborately and intricately styled and wrapped in silks and gold and pearls. It was too much. It wasn’t her, nor did she feel like herself; and his presence there was just another reminder of the utter lack of control she had over her own life.
Instead, she followed her stepmother down the corridor, eyes on the back of Lady Cecile’s head where the curls and braids and intricate designs always looked a little more at home, a little more in place. And then all she had to do was continue to do it; to keep walking to all those places she didn’t actually want to go.
She was being led to the library again, where her father seemed deep in conversation with Deagan Fairester. He was a little taller than her father and had a fineness of features that her father never could have possessed, even in his youth. They both turned around when the ladies entered and bowed before Moira and Cecile curtsied in turn.
“Darling,” Lord Rochmond enthused, but she did not recognize the smile on his face easily. “You have met Master Deagan, son of Lord Hindrick Fairester?”
“Of course,” Moira replied, stepping forward, wary and careful. “It is a pleasure to receive you at Rochmond Castle again, sir.”
Words. Words she had learned.
“My lady, I’m quite enchanted to see you again.” He had a fair face, small featured but handsome and intelligent. Moira didn’t think that he had changed much in the weeks since he had been to Castle Rochmond, except maybe that his smile was broader, just around the lips.
“My father tells me that you are well but I had to see it for my own eyes. You are growing ever more beautiful, milady.”
“Thank you, Sir Fairester.”
“I should thank you; and your lord father, of course, for your hospitality. It is always a pleasure to visit. I simply had to come back before
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