Read Online By the Light of the Moon by Laila Blake - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Laila Blake
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everybody will be here for the Festival of Prevailing Peace and see it for themselves.”
Moira took a deep breath. She could feel the muscles in her face quivering slightly where they were trying to hold her smile in place. Her shoulders twitched a little on their own accord but she managed to smile.
“I am glad. We can’t quite … compete with the splendor of Lauryl, I’m sure but … I’m glad you are enjoying it.”
“Well, it’s a splendid place and may I just say … a beautiful woman makes it well worth a journey.” A look passed between the young master and her Lord Rochmond and Moira looked down, exhaling an almost silent, steadying breath again.
“Your father and I were just talking about the apple harvest and his famous apple wine. It is a delicacy even at court as you must know.”
“I do. My father is very proud of it.” Her eyes caught her father’s and the plea for help was easily hidden from him when all he wanted to see was his future son-in-law and his daughter dressed up to what she was supposed to be.
“Maybe you could show him the grounds and the castle,” he suggested with a benevolent smile at both of them. Moira wondered whether he thought he was doing her a kindness by allowing them some time to themselves, but then his eyes fell on her guard and she knew it wouldn’t turn out that way. For once, she was relieved rather than angry.
“But of course, I would love the see the orchard. We’ve been travelling by ship for almost two weeks, milady, a good, solid orchard might be just what I need.”
He was so friendly, so open, Moira thought it overwhelming and she had to take another deep breath and a step backward until she managed a nod.
“As you wish … ”
“May I escort you, milady?”
Another wordless nod and she daintily placed her hand on the proffered arm. She didn’t look at anyone as he started to lead her out of the library but she could feel the Blaidyn and his almost soundless steps behind them.
• • •
The rock upon which Rochmond stood offered only space enough for a small private assembly of apple trees toward the southern edge of the property, a small field between the sunny side of the Keep and the little moat that had once truly offered an obstacle to pressing armies but nowadays mostly served to dispose of human waste and to keep the gardens irrigated.
“Most … most of the apples come from … from other orchards in the area,” Moira explained haltingly. At the earliest chance, she had withdrawn her hand from the suitor’s arm and was now walking at the widest distance she still considered proper. Letting her hands rest on the gnarly bark of the old trees helped but it wasn’t a fix. It was rough, as though she only had to press hard enough and it would tear her skin, would leave deep gouges there and she would be able to watch the blood trickling out, watch them slowly heal. She would feel the sickening and heady sensation she always felt at the sight of blood.
“I’m sorry?” she asked, blinking when she became aware that he had been talking and she hadn’t taken in a word. That had to be one of those social blunders her mother and governesses kept trying to iron out of her but she had genuinely lost track of the moment then. She could feel her guard move in closer behind her, but how she knew this she wasn’t quite sure.
“I apologize, milady, sometimes I just talk and talk. I was just admiring the area … and yourself.” He smiled again, that small knowing smile that was different from humor or pleasure. She didn’t like it, just like she hadn’t liked it on his first visit. “Because you, my lady, are quite worthy of praise. So lovely in this light; it suits you.”
He took a step closer and instinctively, Moira took one backward but found she was trapped against that same bark she had marveled at earlier. She could have pushed herself off and evaded him in any other direction around the garden but she hesitated for a moment
Moira took a deep breath. She could feel the muscles in her face quivering slightly where they were trying to hold her smile in place. Her shoulders twitched a little on their own accord but she managed to smile.
“I am glad. We can’t quite … compete with the splendor of Lauryl, I’m sure but … I’m glad you are enjoying it.”
“Well, it’s a splendid place and may I just say … a beautiful woman makes it well worth a journey.” A look passed between the young master and her Lord Rochmond and Moira looked down, exhaling an almost silent, steadying breath again.
“Your father and I were just talking about the apple harvest and his famous apple wine. It is a delicacy even at court as you must know.”
“I do. My father is very proud of it.” Her eyes caught her father’s and the plea for help was easily hidden from him when all he wanted to see was his future son-in-law and his daughter dressed up to what she was supposed to be.
“Maybe you could show him the grounds and the castle,” he suggested with a benevolent smile at both of them. Moira wondered whether he thought he was doing her a kindness by allowing them some time to themselves, but then his eyes fell on her guard and she knew it wouldn’t turn out that way. For once, she was relieved rather than angry.
“But of course, I would love the see the orchard. We’ve been travelling by ship for almost two weeks, milady, a good, solid orchard might be just what I need.”
He was so friendly, so open, Moira thought it overwhelming and she had to take another deep breath and a step backward until she managed a nod.
“As you wish … ”
“May I escort you, milady?”
Another wordless nod and she daintily placed her hand on the proffered arm. She didn’t look at anyone as he started to lead her out of the library but she could feel the Blaidyn and his almost soundless steps behind them.
• • •
The rock upon which Rochmond stood offered only space enough for a small private assembly of apple trees toward the southern edge of the property, a small field between the sunny side of the Keep and the little moat that had once truly offered an obstacle to pressing armies but nowadays mostly served to dispose of human waste and to keep the gardens irrigated.
“Most … most of the apples come from … from other orchards in the area,” Moira explained haltingly. At the earliest chance, she had withdrawn her hand from the suitor’s arm and was now walking at the widest distance she still considered proper. Letting her hands rest on the gnarly bark of the old trees helped but it wasn’t a fix. It was rough, as though she only had to press hard enough and it would tear her skin, would leave deep gouges there and she would be able to watch the blood trickling out, watch them slowly heal. She would feel the sickening and heady sensation she always felt at the sight of blood.
“I’m sorry?” she asked, blinking when she became aware that he had been talking and she hadn’t taken in a word. That had to be one of those social blunders her mother and governesses kept trying to iron out of her but she had genuinely lost track of the moment then. She could feel her guard move in closer behind her, but how she knew this she wasn’t quite sure.
“I apologize, milady, sometimes I just talk and talk. I was just admiring the area … and yourself.” He smiled again, that small knowing smile that was different from humor or pleasure. She didn’t like it, just like she hadn’t liked it on his first visit. “Because you, my lady, are quite worthy of praise. So lovely in this light; it suits you.”
He took a step closer and instinctively, Moira took one backward but found she was trapped against that same bark she had marveled at earlier. She could have pushed herself off and evaded him in any other direction around the garden but she hesitated for a moment
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