Read Online Domning, Denise by Winter's Heat - Free Book Online

said, "May the Lord God keep you safe in your endeavors." It sounded like the wifely thing to say.
    "And you, yours," he returned. But, he offered no gesture of farewell, only sent his bay crashing across the frost-crusted field. He and the men who followed disappeared quickly into the tangled branches and dead bracken until nothing but silence once again surrounded those who stayed behind.

Chapter 4
    Temric set a brutal pace, but Rowena's presence slowed them not one whit—although she well knew he'd expected it. Still, pride in her achievement did not thaw frozen fingers and toes or make the misery pass more quickly. It was only when day had fallen into an icy, blue twilight that this wide, well-traveled road led them to Graistan, her new home.
    Set atop a sharp lift of land guarded by a river's bend was a tall stone keep. Surrounding the great square tower was a massive wall with defensive towers at its every turn. Proof of her husband's might and prominence lay not only in this powerful keep, but also by the town below the castle. This fledgling enterprise nestled safely between castle and its own walls. Rowena's heart soared at the sight. Where there was trade, there was wealth.
    They thundered past outlying farmland, meadows, and orchards, then through the town's gate. Here, their pace slowed along the narrow lanes that twisted and curved at will and with no apparent reason. With night now closing in, only a solitary few remained out and about. The eerie wail of yowling cats shattered the chilled quiet. She glanced upward, searching for the source.
    The tall houses were framed in dark, thick timbers. Some were freestanding while others were crammed, cheek to jowl, against their neighbors. Although twilight had grayed their colors, each house bore painted wood trim, some carved into fanciful designs. Merchants' homes were easily identified by the emblems that hung over their doors. Each proclaimed the nature of their owner's business, be that carpenter, potter, or wine seller. Butchers, tanners, and fishmongers were easily identified by their reeking odors, as were the bakers, cookshops, and chandlers with their sweeter smells.
    As they turned a sharp corner, Rowena caught her breath. There, nestled in a corner was a goldsmith's shop. Wealth, indeed.
    Excitement pushed aside exhaustion. She spurred her mare through the armed entrance of Graistan keep, then past the byres, barns, sheds, and stables of the outer bailey. They did not hold her interest. What she wanted lay within the close, inner walls. To become lady of this hall and town would challenge all she ever learned, a challenge she gladly accepted.
    Once past the inner gate, Temric's piercing whistle brought a tumble of grooms from the stables. Serving boys, heralded by a pack of yelping, snarling dogs, flew down the stairs from the hall door into the courtyard.
    A blond giant of a man, taller even than her husband yet barely older than she, pushed his way past the dogs and boys toward them. Worry creased his brow and touched his guileless blue eyes. "Temric, where is Rannulf," he called out, his voice, deep beyond his youth, reverberating against the overshadowing walls.
    Rowena peered up from beneath her concealing hood at him. Where her husband's features were all sharp angles and deep plains of life's experience, his face seemed boyish in its softness. Only the fine embroidery that trimmed the neckline of his bright red tunic and the richly decorated leather of his belt indicated he might be Lord Rannulf's kin.
    Temric dismounted, kicking away the dogs as he did so. "Gone on to Notthingham. Sir Gilliam, come give your new lady your hand."
    "New lady?" the boy blurted out in surprise before he caught himself. "But, I thought—"
    She bit her cheek to keep from smiling at his consternation as his fair skin colored. My, how quickly the potential loss of her dowry had turned a reluctant bridegroom into a husband. This Gilliam ran a distracted hand through his