Read Online Lord of the Mist by Ann Lawrence - Free Book Online Page A

Aelfric’s Nominum Herbarum .” She discretely
covered the bowl of mallows with a linen cloth.
    “ Mon Dieu ! How do you have such a treasure?” He
skewered her with a sharp look.
    “Lord Durand gave it to me to clean.” Why was she reluctant
to say his lordship had given her the herbal to keep? Nay, Simon would make
something of it—something worthy of chastisement.
    “With such embellishments, ‘twould fetch a goodly sum.”
Simon treated the book as reverently as she, turning the leaves carefully,
examining the binding, stroking the cover bosses. “To the ignorant, fifty
pounds. To an abbey, possibly a thousand.”
    A thousand pounds? “We’ll not be the beneficiaries of
its sale.” She took the book and placed it squarely on the table. “I shall return
it to Lord Durand when ‘tis clean.”
    Simon wandered to her bed, the book forgotten. He stretched
out and patted the coverlet next to him. “Come. Lie at my side.”
    Her legs felt liquid, her chest tight. “I cannot. Felice
will wake soon.”
    He glanced at the cradle. “She’s dead to the world. Come.”
    It was said in a tone that brooked no disobedience. She sat
beside him. He cupped her breast. “You must give me a son.”
    A noise at the door sent her flying from the bed, her heart
pounding. “Alice. How kind!” Cristina rushed to the door and took the tray from
the serving woman’s hands. The smell of roasted partridge filled the room.
    “What ye doin’ wiv yer boots on the bed?” Alice jammed her
fists on her hips and glared at Simon.
    He rolled onto his side and propped his head on his hand.
“You’ve a tart tongue.”
    “I say what needs sayin’. Lord Durand will not be best
pleased to find ye lollin’ about ere the sun has set.”
    Simon rose slowly, straightening his tunic. “Lord Durand
will not be best pleased to find a serving woman is interfering with a man’s
pleasure.”
    “Yer all the same,” Alice said as Simon went to the door.
“Rutting pigs. ‘Is lordship included. Tell ‘im what ye will.”
    Simon’s face suffused with a deep red; he raised a hand.
    “Alice!” Cristina darted between her husband and the
servant. “There’s no need for acrimony.” Behind her, Felice woke and burst into
a frantic wail. “Just go, Simon, ‘tis not a good time, as you can see.”
    He relaxed. He placed his fingers beneath her chin and
lifted her face to his. “We shall continue this when she is not about.”
    “Please, Simon. ‘Tis unseemly to come to me here.”
    “Unseemly? Then hie yourself home to the village. Bring the
child if need be; then return when we’ve finished our business.”
    He made of it a chore. “I cannot take—”
    Felice’s wail became a frantic, hiccuping tirade.
    Simon’s fingers tightened on her chin. “You’ll come when it
pleases me .”
    Alice scooped Felice from the cradle and stomped to where
they stood. “His lordship’ll ‘ave some’at to say about that.” She thrust the
child into Cristina’s arms, effectively separating them. “Ye cannot be takin’
the babe into the evil air of night.”
    “Evil air! Shut your mouth, hag.” Simon bowed at her. “After
Vespers, Cristina.”
    “Rutting bastard,” Alice muttered.
    Cristina frowned. This was a battle sure to become a war.
“It would not do to—”
    “Anger ‘is lordship, mistress. Remain in the keep, else ‘e
will ‘ave yer ‘ead and another’ll be found to feed that babe.”
    “Is there another in the keep who’s able to nurse her?”
Dread filled her.
    “Nay. I know of none, but babes are born every day and babes
die. There be three ‘ore’s in the village what be nursin’ now, but his lordship
wouldna allow such as they to feed his sweetling.” Alice bustled about the
chamber, shifting a bench, adding wood to the fire. “I be thinkin’ ye’ll not
mind so much ‘ifn Lord Durand sends that one packin’.” Alice jerked her thumb
at the door.
    “Nonsense,” she said, rocking and kissing Felice until