Read Online Knight in Highland Armor by Amy Jarecki - Free Book Online
Authors: Amy Jarecki
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a tray on the small table beside the hearth. “’Tis time to break your fast, m’lady.”
Margaret stretched. “I’d prefer to sleep a bit longer.”
An older woman shook out Margaret’s traveling gown. “You are to eat and attend him in the courtyard. Lord Glenorchy’s orders.”
Already ordering me about, is he? The heartless cur.
No sooner did Margaret rise than the linens were stripped from her bed and whisked out the door—for examination, no doubt. At least the queen will be pleased .
Margaret spooned stewed dates over her porridge and ate while the chambermaids bustled about. “I’m surprised Lord Glenorchy wants to depart so soon. He was up quite late.”
The lasses chuckled, as if they knew what he’d been up to. Of course they knew. Margaret’s cheeks burned. Her deflowering obviously provided a great deal of amusement for the queen’s chambermaids. Had she been at Dunalasdair Castle, she would have quashed their giggles with a sharp rebuttal. Unfortunately, she didn’t have the energy this morning. Refusing to allow her shoulders to slump, Margaret finished her porridge and took her time dressing.
Mother entered, smiling broadly. “And how is my wedded daughter this morn?”
Margaret held her bodice against her ribs while a maid tied the laces. “Good morning, Mother.” She chose to avoid the question.
With a furrowed brow, Mother studied her. “I take it all did not go smoothly last eve?”
“Not at all.” Margaret groaned. She did not want to have this conversation with anyone, let alone her mother.
Lady Struan grasped her hand. “Things will improve, I can attest to that.”
“He’s an ogre.”
Mother bit her bottom lip. “Give him a chance. He’ll come good. The first year’s always the most difficult.”
“Now you choose to tell me?”
A guard appeared at the door. “Is Lady Glenorchy ready? The lord awaits.”
The maid secured Margaret’s hair beneath a French hood. With her cloak over her shoulders, Margaret kissed her mother. “Pray for me.”
Eyes moist, Mother caressed her cheek. “Go with God. Everything will be fine. You shall see.”
The guard accompanied her to the courtyard, where Colin waited at the head of a well-armed contingent, two score of men, wearing red tunics with a white cross over their hauberks. In the center of the procession, men were securing a wagon laden with her trunks.
Lord Colin, clad in a coat of blackened armor with the visor raised over his helm, watched her descend the steps. He could have smiled, though he squinted against the sun and frowned, as if her tardiness had caused him undue inconvenience. Margaret watched him through downcast eyelids. Perched atop an impressive black warhorse, he certainly played the part of a black knight. In her mind there was absolutely no question as to who he was or what he stood for. Heartlessness .
The guard led her to a mare near the rear of the procession and helped her mount. Margaret thanked him and hooked her knee over the lower pommel of the sidesaddle. She smoothed her skirts and gathered her reins, cuing her horse to follow the procession at a trot. After last night’s ramming , the hard leather saddle was none too comfortable.
Margaret clenched her teeth against the pain and glanced behind her. Six guards took up the rear. They looked more like they were riding into battle than across the countryside. Yes, outlaws were everywhere, but who in their right mind would take on half Lord Glenorchy’s numbers—or could afford to? His entourage was a blatant display of wealth, for certain.
She grumbled under her breath. Flaunting one’s wealth could bring more danger than if they traveled with a dozen well-trained soldiers, as her father did.
When the sun moved higher in the sky, indicating late morning, a knight clad much the same as Colin circled back and rode in beside her. “How are you faring, m’lady?”
“Did Lord Glenorchy send you back here to inquire as to my
Margaret stretched. “I’d prefer to sleep a bit longer.”
An older woman shook out Margaret’s traveling gown. “You are to eat and attend him in the courtyard. Lord Glenorchy’s orders.”
Already ordering me about, is he? The heartless cur.
No sooner did Margaret rise than the linens were stripped from her bed and whisked out the door—for examination, no doubt. At least the queen will be pleased .
Margaret spooned stewed dates over her porridge and ate while the chambermaids bustled about. “I’m surprised Lord Glenorchy wants to depart so soon. He was up quite late.”
The lasses chuckled, as if they knew what he’d been up to. Of course they knew. Margaret’s cheeks burned. Her deflowering obviously provided a great deal of amusement for the queen’s chambermaids. Had she been at Dunalasdair Castle, she would have quashed their giggles with a sharp rebuttal. Unfortunately, she didn’t have the energy this morning. Refusing to allow her shoulders to slump, Margaret finished her porridge and took her time dressing.
Mother entered, smiling broadly. “And how is my wedded daughter this morn?”
Margaret held her bodice against her ribs while a maid tied the laces. “Good morning, Mother.” She chose to avoid the question.
With a furrowed brow, Mother studied her. “I take it all did not go smoothly last eve?”
“Not at all.” Margaret groaned. She did not want to have this conversation with anyone, let alone her mother.
Lady Struan grasped her hand. “Things will improve, I can attest to that.”
“He’s an ogre.”
Mother bit her bottom lip. “Give him a chance. He’ll come good. The first year’s always the most difficult.”
“Now you choose to tell me?”
A guard appeared at the door. “Is Lady Glenorchy ready? The lord awaits.”
The maid secured Margaret’s hair beneath a French hood. With her cloak over her shoulders, Margaret kissed her mother. “Pray for me.”
Eyes moist, Mother caressed her cheek. “Go with God. Everything will be fine. You shall see.”
The guard accompanied her to the courtyard, where Colin waited at the head of a well-armed contingent, two score of men, wearing red tunics with a white cross over their hauberks. In the center of the procession, men were securing a wagon laden with her trunks.
Lord Colin, clad in a coat of blackened armor with the visor raised over his helm, watched her descend the steps. He could have smiled, though he squinted against the sun and frowned, as if her tardiness had caused him undue inconvenience. Margaret watched him through downcast eyelids. Perched atop an impressive black warhorse, he certainly played the part of a black knight. In her mind there was absolutely no question as to who he was or what he stood for. Heartlessness .
The guard led her to a mare near the rear of the procession and helped her mount. Margaret thanked him and hooked her knee over the lower pommel of the sidesaddle. She smoothed her skirts and gathered her reins, cuing her horse to follow the procession at a trot. After last night’s ramming , the hard leather saddle was none too comfortable.
Margaret clenched her teeth against the pain and glanced behind her. Six guards took up the rear. They looked more like they were riding into battle than across the countryside. Yes, outlaws were everywhere, but who in their right mind would take on half Lord Glenorchy’s numbers—or could afford to? His entourage was a blatant display of wealth, for certain.
She grumbled under her breath. Flaunting one’s wealth could bring more danger than if they traveled with a dozen well-trained soldiers, as her father did.
When the sun moved higher in the sky, indicating late morning, a knight clad much the same as Colin circled back and rode in beside her. “How are you faring, m’lady?”
“Did Lord Glenorchy send you back here to inquire as to my
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