Read Online Magic in His Kiss by Shari Anton - Free Book Online
Authors: Shari Anton
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shall not be required long.” A slight shift of stance faced her square before Aubrey de Vere. “My lord, while I appreciate your kindness in the lending of Lady Julia’s garments, I must protest the necessity. Truly, my habit, though old and unfashionable for so esteemed a court, would have done me fine.”
The earl crossed his arms. “You are the first woman I have heard protest the gift of a fashionable gown, and certes, the time has come for you to put aside the habit.”
“You may be right, my lord,” she conceded, mindful of not angering the earl. Calmly presented reason would carry the day, as it had for Mother Abbess. “However, I am uneasy over leaving Bledloe Abbey without the king’s consent. ’Tis where he has commanded I reside, and I have yet to discern an urgent reason for my displacement. Though I am not averse to residing in Lord de Chesney’s care, I fear we may all suffer the king’s displeasure over my removal from the abbey.”
De Vere sank back down in his chair. “You are kindness itself to concern yourself over my good standing with the king, but I believe he will understand my unease over leaving you in the care of the nuns, unprotected. I would be remiss in my duty to our sovereign if I did not take action to assure your safety.”
“Safe from what threat, my lord?”
“Your Welsh uncle, my lady. And his bard.”
The bard whom de Vere had locked up in a guard tower. Who was denied his freedom because she’d unwisely wished time to consider her uncle’s offer of refuge in Wales, even though she’d known she couldn’t possibly accept.
“My Lord de Vere, I do not make light of your concern. However, you must consider that Rhodri, truly, is merely a messenger from my uncle Connor. Indeed, had I not asked Rhodri to play his harp for Mother Abbess, and had not Sister Claire requested he also do so at the burial, Rhodri would have come and gone the previous day without incident. I beg you not to hold him at fault for consenting to my whim.”
“Lady Nicole tells the same tale as ap Dafydd,” de Chesney said, and Nicole was so grateful for the castellan’s support she could have hugged him. “I still believe we should have left Lady Nicole to the nuns and allowed the bard to go his way.”
Apparently the earl and castellan had argued over this earlier, given the tension she now sensed between the two men who usually got on well together.
The earl shook his head. “I cannot ignore the disturbing presence of a Welshman within the walls of the abbey, no matter his intent. Faith, the king’s negotiations for Lady Nicole’s marriage are in a delicate state. She should not be allowed within ten leagues of any of her kin, most especially the Welsh.”
Not any of her kin? Not even her sisters? Sweet mercy, whom was the king planning to marry her off to that necessitated such secrecy? Nicole bit her bottom lip to halt the question de Vere had said yesterday he wasn’t at liberty to answer, determined to first gain the concessions of foremost importance—her return to the abbey and Rhodri’s release.
Before she could utter another plea for mercy, de Chesney leaned toward the earl.
“No harm was done,” he said. “Making prisoners of them both makes no sense.”
The earl sneered. “Does it not? I cannot be assured the encounter was, as you say, innocent. But even if it was, the situation has changed. I dare not allow Lady Nicole to return to a place where I can no longer feel certain she is safe. As for the bard, if I allow him his freedom, he will but return to Wales and inform Connor ap Maelgwn of the king’s intentions, who will in turn inform the prince of Powys. That man will do his utmost to cause mischief with the negotiations, and that is a risk I dare not take.”
Now de Chesney shook his head. “The Welsh have known for years that King Stephen intended Lady Nicole for marriage to a Welsh prince, or at least a high-ranking noble. What matter if they know our
The earl crossed his arms. “You are the first woman I have heard protest the gift of a fashionable gown, and certes, the time has come for you to put aside the habit.”
“You may be right, my lord,” she conceded, mindful of not angering the earl. Calmly presented reason would carry the day, as it had for Mother Abbess. “However, I am uneasy over leaving Bledloe Abbey without the king’s consent. ’Tis where he has commanded I reside, and I have yet to discern an urgent reason for my displacement. Though I am not averse to residing in Lord de Chesney’s care, I fear we may all suffer the king’s displeasure over my removal from the abbey.”
De Vere sank back down in his chair. “You are kindness itself to concern yourself over my good standing with the king, but I believe he will understand my unease over leaving you in the care of the nuns, unprotected. I would be remiss in my duty to our sovereign if I did not take action to assure your safety.”
“Safe from what threat, my lord?”
“Your Welsh uncle, my lady. And his bard.”
The bard whom de Vere had locked up in a guard tower. Who was denied his freedom because she’d unwisely wished time to consider her uncle’s offer of refuge in Wales, even though she’d known she couldn’t possibly accept.
“My Lord de Vere, I do not make light of your concern. However, you must consider that Rhodri, truly, is merely a messenger from my uncle Connor. Indeed, had I not asked Rhodri to play his harp for Mother Abbess, and had not Sister Claire requested he also do so at the burial, Rhodri would have come and gone the previous day without incident. I beg you not to hold him at fault for consenting to my whim.”
“Lady Nicole tells the same tale as ap Dafydd,” de Chesney said, and Nicole was so grateful for the castellan’s support she could have hugged him. “I still believe we should have left Lady Nicole to the nuns and allowed the bard to go his way.”
Apparently the earl and castellan had argued over this earlier, given the tension she now sensed between the two men who usually got on well together.
The earl shook his head. “I cannot ignore the disturbing presence of a Welshman within the walls of the abbey, no matter his intent. Faith, the king’s negotiations for Lady Nicole’s marriage are in a delicate state. She should not be allowed within ten leagues of any of her kin, most especially the Welsh.”
Not any of her kin? Not even her sisters? Sweet mercy, whom was the king planning to marry her off to that necessitated such secrecy? Nicole bit her bottom lip to halt the question de Vere had said yesterday he wasn’t at liberty to answer, determined to first gain the concessions of foremost importance—her return to the abbey and Rhodri’s release.
Before she could utter another plea for mercy, de Chesney leaned toward the earl.
“No harm was done,” he said. “Making prisoners of them both makes no sense.”
The earl sneered. “Does it not? I cannot be assured the encounter was, as you say, innocent. But even if it was, the situation has changed. I dare not allow Lady Nicole to return to a place where I can no longer feel certain she is safe. As for the bard, if I allow him his freedom, he will but return to Wales and inform Connor ap Maelgwn of the king’s intentions, who will in turn inform the prince of Powys. That man will do his utmost to cause mischief with the negotiations, and that is a risk I dare not take.”
Now de Chesney shook his head. “The Welsh have known for years that King Stephen intended Lady Nicole for marriage to a Welsh prince, or at least a high-ranking noble. What matter if they know our
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