Read Online Heart of a Knight by Barbara Samuel - Free Book Online
Authors: Barbara Samuel
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me more than I thought."
"I suspect you did not forget at all."
That great hand covered his breast in mock horror. "Do you doubt my honor?"
"I will play," Isobel said, straightening.
Lyssa looked at her in surprise. "You loathe the game."
"'Tis made different by Lord Thomas."
"Aye," said Robert, "he's made of it a peasant's fantasy. Pawns taking the king." His voice dripped disdain.
Lord Thomas glanced at the boy, then at Lyssa. "He is my page, is he not? To discipline as I will?"
Lyssa met his gaze with amusement. "That he is."
"I'm no page to you!" Robert shouted, jumping back as Thomas stood, rising and rising to his great height. "I am cousin to the king by marriage, and I'll not be manhandled by a common knight."
If Robert had been less rude, Lyssa might have felt pity for him. Thomas loomed over the boy, fierce as a dragon, his shoulders casting a deep shadow over Robert's white face. His eyes went wide as Thomas reached for him, capturing him neatly at the back of the neck. "You've a tongue like a harridan, boy," Thomas said, and even that rumbling voice seemed darker.
Robert cringed, holding his hands up. "Don't beat me, my lord! You'll kill me."
"Quit yer grovelin'," Thomas growled, and Lyssa noticed the blurring syllables of his speech instantly. "I've better ways to train a boy to respect than to see him bloodied." He shoved Robert in front of him, and Robert stumbled forward. "To the barns with ye."
?
"The—"
"No more of yer tongue, or it'll only be worse."
Lyssa quelled a chortle. Long had Robert needed a man's hand, and none had dared try taming him till now. The boy scurried toward the door, and Thomas paused. "I only mean to have him shovel dung an hour or two. 'Twill be good for him."
"You have my blessing, sir."
For a heartbeat longer, he did not move, and Lyssa found herself thinking he was magnificent. That thick black hair, the indigo eyes, his great size and grace. If more men were made as he was, she might not have grown so cold.
"Twas a good meal, and good company, my lady." He bowed his head. "Good even."
"And to you."
"Sweet dreams, Lord Thomas!" Isobel said.
He gave her a brief nod, and followed Robert out the door.
Isobel gave a sigh. "Oh, now ballads were written for a man like that."
"You need a husband, Isobel," Lyssa said, unreasonably irritated by the comment. "A man need only have breath for you to wish to bed him."
"Bed him?" Isobel gave her a wounded, shocked look. "And ruin my chances to wed? Nay." But her face shone as she stared after the departed Thomas.
Lyssa eyed her stepdaughter through narrowed eyes. The low-cut gown, the unseemly way she carried herself, even the way she now absently brushed the tips of her fingers over her pale bosom—all were warnings to her guardian.
"I have me a letter to write," Lyssa said. She would send it to Edward requesting a husband for the girl. "Do not tarry. 'Tis time you learned to weave. By Tierce tomorrow, you will be in my solar."
"Aye, my lady." Isobel lifted her smoky eyes, and Lyssa glimpsed contempt and pity.
But one could not discipline a glance, and Lyssa simply left her. She would write the king and get Isobel a husband, and then she would be finished with her.
----
5
To Lyssa's
delight
, all her women gathered the next morning in the solar. Isobel, sullen and swollen-eyed from lack of sleep, nonetheless did appear, and since there were no men to impress, she was simply dressed, with a veil over her head. Nurse perched on a bench below a window, and hummed to herself as she stitched flowers into the hem of a skirt.
Lyssa had expected this pair. She had not expected Tall Mary, nor Alice Bryony. Mary came early, her red hair caught in a long braid, and Elizabeth exclaimed in pleasure. "Mary!" she cried. "I am glad to see you."
She seemed her normal self this morning, her blue eyes bright, her white skin with the scattering of freckles over the nose clear. It was a face she much missed, but remembering
"I suspect you did not forget at all."
That great hand covered his breast in mock horror. "Do you doubt my honor?"
"I will play," Isobel said, straightening.
Lyssa looked at her in surprise. "You loathe the game."
"'Tis made different by Lord Thomas."
"Aye," said Robert, "he's made of it a peasant's fantasy. Pawns taking the king." His voice dripped disdain.
Lord Thomas glanced at the boy, then at Lyssa. "He is my page, is he not? To discipline as I will?"
Lyssa met his gaze with amusement. "That he is."
"I'm no page to you!" Robert shouted, jumping back as Thomas stood, rising and rising to his great height. "I am cousin to the king by marriage, and I'll not be manhandled by a common knight."
If Robert had been less rude, Lyssa might have felt pity for him. Thomas loomed over the boy, fierce as a dragon, his shoulders casting a deep shadow over Robert's white face. His eyes went wide as Thomas reached for him, capturing him neatly at the back of the neck. "You've a tongue like a harridan, boy," Thomas said, and even that rumbling voice seemed darker.
Robert cringed, holding his hands up. "Don't beat me, my lord! You'll kill me."
"Quit yer grovelin'," Thomas growled, and Lyssa noticed the blurring syllables of his speech instantly. "I've better ways to train a boy to respect than to see him bloodied." He shoved Robert in front of him, and Robert stumbled forward. "To the barns with ye."
?
"The—"
"No more of yer tongue, or it'll only be worse."
Lyssa quelled a chortle. Long had Robert needed a man's hand, and none had dared try taming him till now. The boy scurried toward the door, and Thomas paused. "I only mean to have him shovel dung an hour or two. 'Twill be good for him."
"You have my blessing, sir."
For a heartbeat longer, he did not move, and Lyssa found herself thinking he was magnificent. That thick black hair, the indigo eyes, his great size and grace. If more men were made as he was, she might not have grown so cold.
"Twas a good meal, and good company, my lady." He bowed his head. "Good even."
"And to you."
"Sweet dreams, Lord Thomas!" Isobel said.
He gave her a brief nod, and followed Robert out the door.
Isobel gave a sigh. "Oh, now ballads were written for a man like that."
"You need a husband, Isobel," Lyssa said, unreasonably irritated by the comment. "A man need only have breath for you to wish to bed him."
"Bed him?" Isobel gave her a wounded, shocked look. "And ruin my chances to wed? Nay." But her face shone as she stared after the departed Thomas.
Lyssa eyed her stepdaughter through narrowed eyes. The low-cut gown, the unseemly way she carried herself, even the way she now absently brushed the tips of her fingers over her pale bosom—all were warnings to her guardian.
"I have me a letter to write," Lyssa said. She would send it to Edward requesting a husband for the girl. "Do not tarry. 'Tis time you learned to weave. By Tierce tomorrow, you will be in my solar."
"Aye, my lady." Isobel lifted her smoky eyes, and Lyssa glimpsed contempt and pity.
But one could not discipline a glance, and Lyssa simply left her. She would write the king and get Isobel a husband, and then she would be finished with her.
----
5
To Lyssa's
delight
, all her women gathered the next morning in the solar. Isobel, sullen and swollen-eyed from lack of sleep, nonetheless did appear, and since there were no men to impress, she was simply dressed, with a veil over her head. Nurse perched on a bench below a window, and hummed to herself as she stitched flowers into the hem of a skirt.
Lyssa had expected this pair. She had not expected Tall Mary, nor Alice Bryony. Mary came early, her red hair caught in a long braid, and Elizabeth exclaimed in pleasure. "Mary!" she cried. "I am glad to see you."
She seemed her normal self this morning, her blue eyes bright, her white skin with the scattering of freckles over the nose clear. It was a face she much missed, but remembering
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