Read Online Dryden's Bride by Margo Maguire - Free Book Online Page B

chimney open. Make a fire, and cook the hen over it…”’
    The tale went on to its happy ending, and it wasn’t until Siân had reunited the hapless Pryderi with his mother that the children noticed Hugh in the shadows near the oak tree. They were instantly wary of the man with the black eye patch.
    “’Tis Lord Alldale,” Siân said, as startled by his arrival as the children. Recovering quickly, she arosefrom her seat beneath the spreading oak tree. “’Twas he who saved me from the fierce boar who would have gored me with his tusks…” she grabbed the smallest boy and twirled him around as he giggled with glee “…and eaten me all up!”
    Hugh warmed inexplicably as he watched Siân spin with the child, her face flushed, her skirts billowing out all around her. He cleared an odd thickness from his throat and approached the small group. “Lady Siân, it would be well for you to stay closer to the town.”
    “Why, my lord?” she asked, her innocent eyes full of questions.
    Hugh hesitated. He saw no reason to take the joy out of her day. “Only because…it looks as if it wants to storm again,” he finally said.
    Siân looked up at the sky.
    He was right. Rain was coming. She smiled warmly. It was considerate of him to come out and forewarn her.
    “ Vraiment , I am flattered, Lord Alldale,” Marguerite said in response to Hugh’s proposal of marriage.
    And flustered , Hugh thought, although her excellent breeding was evident in her tact and poise. There was hardly any indication that she found his offer of marriage untoward. A mere flaring of nostrils, a twitch of the lips, a slight flush of color on those high cheeks…Hugh only noticed these subtle signs because he was more aware than most, after enduring so many politely averted gazes and disdainful glances.
    Hugh’s face had once been a pleasing one. In those earlier days, he’d been satisfied with his lot, quick to meet a challenge or to stand for his friends. His companyhad been sought in battle as well as in the public house.
    Though he’d never had the kind of looks that made women swoon, there had been no dearth of beauties to grace his bed in those days, he thought morosely. Not that he’d want any of the shallow and vain creatures near him now. He’d seen too many women pale and weaken at the sight of his scars and the leather eye patch. He knew their grimaces came with the mere thought of a touch from his mangled hand…and how he’d gotten it.
    Marguerite sat on a comfortable chair in her solar, while Hugh remained standing, free to wander the room as he chose. He refused to be discomfited by the situation, by her reserve. He was certainly aware that he was no longer pleasant to look upon, that a beautiful woman like Marguerite would have some difficulty with the notion of spending her future shackled to a man with his disfigurements.
    Hugh had adjusted. He would never again be the man he was two years ago, but he was a man, nonetheless. Strong again. Capable. Marguerite could do worse for a husband. He was no pauper, to go begging for favors of a wealthy widow! He had Alldale, a prosperous estate that belonged to him alone.
    The lady took a sip of wine from a delicate silver chalice, biding a few moment’s time. She cleared her throat before speaking again.
    “As you might know,” she said haltingly, “I have received two, um, additional offers of marriage.”
    “I’d heard.” And didn’t particularly care. Just choose , he thought, and we can get on with it one way or another .
    “My parents are dead,” Marguerite added. “I have no one close by to advise me.”
    “Her Majesty, the Queen?”
    “We are good friends, yes,” she replied, “but she has counseled me to write my uncle in Lyons for his advice and…perhaps his consent.”
    “I see.”
    “And, um, I must also request the permission of the council in London. They have certain requirements—”
    “Yes, I know all about the council’s requirements,” Hugh