Read Online How to Seduce a Queen: A Medieval Romance Novel by Stella Marie Alden - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Stella Marie Alden
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trestle tables.
Delicious odors of smoked herring and brown bread wafted on the breeze as Aiden ascended halfway to greet her. He bowed and asked politely, “May I lead you to your seat?”
“Prithee, do.” She grinned at his noble antics and took his arm.
When he seated her at the head of the main table, she bit her lower lip, and waited for tonsured heads to arrive. Chuckling, Haddr ducked out of the kitchen and set a pitcher of buttermilk on the table. “They come anon. The blond monk is very handsome. He breaks his vows with clever hands. And yours?”
“Shush. They come.” Fay blushed and whispered, “I have so much to tell you.”
The one known as Eaton, winked boldly at Haddr as he passed by her table. The next in line, Nicodemus, smiled kindly even though angry red scratches ran from eye to beard. She studied the floor, overflowing with guilt. Then, Sean and his twelve knights arrived, arguing hotly as they sat.
After a quick grace, she asked, “What’s this all about?”
He tossed his head in the direction of the monks. “Them. They need to go.”
“You were the one who insisted they stay.” She stuck out her jaw. The man had become unbearable.
He scowled and his voice tightened. “We don’t need them. The villagers will return to work as soon as you proclaim your faith in front of the priest in the village today.”
She wasn’t proclaiming anything, certainly not in front of that devil. And not today. She had her own plans. “Won’t people just return for coin?”
Snorting, he crossed arms over his chest. “Coin? What coin? I’ve not seen a half-pence since we arrived.”
His fierce glare was met with an equal one of her own. How dare he? “Why look to me? You said yourself, you belong to Alexander.”
“It was expected that you would pay out, as well.” He stood with hand on sword.
Without thinking, she jumped up and met him eye to eye. “The Manx have barely enough to eat. I will not tax them further for your comfort. If you do not wish to stay, I release you all.”
He leaned in so as to glower inches from her face. “The king commands whether we leave or stay. So I say we stay. And I say you tax. Your peasants must pay for our noble protection.”
She screeched back at him, “Are you mad? Protection? I believe you were one of the Scots who burned down their villages.” Suddenly she wondered if she spoke too freely.
His eyes went dark and dangerous, and his knuckles clenched white. “The Manx people brought on that war themselves.”
She backed away as she lowered her voice. “Nay. They did not. The Danes came from across the ocean. The Manx had no say.”
Sean put both palms down on the trestle table and leaned over. She could count the crumbs in his light beard and smell mead on his breath. “And after Alexander declared peace? Was it not your brother that killed your mother in the uprising? Right here in this verra room?”
With life-drums pounding in her ears, Fay grabbed her knife, and stabbed into the table where his hand had rested just a moment before. “That day is not to be spoken. Not ever . Go. Should you find some manners, you’ll be invited back for sup. Otherwise, eat in the village, or in the stables. I care not.”
God’s blood, have I gone too far? Knees shaking madly, she looked about the great room for support. Her monk was the first to rush to her side, followed by the rest of his table. Then her boys jumped from their benches and surrounded her, as well. She held her breath, waiting for blood.
Sean tossed his blond head in the direction of the door, indicating his knights should rise. Thank all the gods. They put their eyes to the floor and stayed put. Their devotion lie with her.
“The devil take you all ta hell.” He stomped across the room, kicked a log in the center hearth, and departed by the front door.
Fay lowered her voice so as to sound calm while her innards tried to upend. She had never challenged Sean Ferguson before. “I
Delicious odors of smoked herring and brown bread wafted on the breeze as Aiden ascended halfway to greet her. He bowed and asked politely, “May I lead you to your seat?”
“Prithee, do.” She grinned at his noble antics and took his arm.
When he seated her at the head of the main table, she bit her lower lip, and waited for tonsured heads to arrive. Chuckling, Haddr ducked out of the kitchen and set a pitcher of buttermilk on the table. “They come anon. The blond monk is very handsome. He breaks his vows with clever hands. And yours?”
“Shush. They come.” Fay blushed and whispered, “I have so much to tell you.”
The one known as Eaton, winked boldly at Haddr as he passed by her table. The next in line, Nicodemus, smiled kindly even though angry red scratches ran from eye to beard. She studied the floor, overflowing with guilt. Then, Sean and his twelve knights arrived, arguing hotly as they sat.
After a quick grace, she asked, “What’s this all about?”
He tossed his head in the direction of the monks. “Them. They need to go.”
“You were the one who insisted they stay.” She stuck out her jaw. The man had become unbearable.
He scowled and his voice tightened. “We don’t need them. The villagers will return to work as soon as you proclaim your faith in front of the priest in the village today.”
She wasn’t proclaiming anything, certainly not in front of that devil. And not today. She had her own plans. “Won’t people just return for coin?”
Snorting, he crossed arms over his chest. “Coin? What coin? I’ve not seen a half-pence since we arrived.”
His fierce glare was met with an equal one of her own. How dare he? “Why look to me? You said yourself, you belong to Alexander.”
“It was expected that you would pay out, as well.” He stood with hand on sword.
Without thinking, she jumped up and met him eye to eye. “The Manx have barely enough to eat. I will not tax them further for your comfort. If you do not wish to stay, I release you all.”
He leaned in so as to glower inches from her face. “The king commands whether we leave or stay. So I say we stay. And I say you tax. Your peasants must pay for our noble protection.”
She screeched back at him, “Are you mad? Protection? I believe you were one of the Scots who burned down their villages.” Suddenly she wondered if she spoke too freely.
His eyes went dark and dangerous, and his knuckles clenched white. “The Manx people brought on that war themselves.”
She backed away as she lowered her voice. “Nay. They did not. The Danes came from across the ocean. The Manx had no say.”
Sean put both palms down on the trestle table and leaned over. She could count the crumbs in his light beard and smell mead on his breath. “And after Alexander declared peace? Was it not your brother that killed your mother in the uprising? Right here in this verra room?”
With life-drums pounding in her ears, Fay grabbed her knife, and stabbed into the table where his hand had rested just a moment before. “That day is not to be spoken. Not ever . Go. Should you find some manners, you’ll be invited back for sup. Otherwise, eat in the village, or in the stables. I care not.”
God’s blood, have I gone too far? Knees shaking madly, she looked about the great room for support. Her monk was the first to rush to her side, followed by the rest of his table. Then her boys jumped from their benches and surrounded her, as well. She held her breath, waiting for blood.
Sean tossed his blond head in the direction of the door, indicating his knights should rise. Thank all the gods. They put their eyes to the floor and stayed put. Their devotion lie with her.
“The devil take you all ta hell.” He stomped across the room, kicked a log in the center hearth, and departed by the front door.
Fay lowered her voice so as to sound calm while her innards tried to upend. She had never challenged Sean Ferguson before. “I
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