Read Online Patricia Ryan - [Fairfax Family 01] by Falcons Fire - Free Book Online Page A

they brought out their dice, kicked aside the rushes, and squatted down, commencing animated play.
    Estrude said, “Lady Martine, have you no one to serve you? No lady’s maid traveling with you?”
    “Nay, my lady. I had no such person in Paris.”
    “We shall have to find one for you.” She turned to her maid. “Clare, do you known of anyone? One of your sisters, perhaps? The fat one. She’s got nothing better to do.”
    “She has fits, my lady,” Clare said.
    “Yes, but in between the fits, she’d be fine, I’m sure.” Estrude nodded happily. “I shall send word to your father tomorrow that we’d like her to—”
    Thorne said, “Perhaps Lady Martine would prefer to choose a maid herself from among the house servants.”
    “The house servants?” Estrude said in disbelief. “But surely the daughter of a baron would prefer a girl of breeding to one of these—”
    “Why don’t we let Lady Martine decide?” Thorne turned to Martine. “My recommendation, if it’s of any interest to my lady, would be Felda.” Estrude gasped. “I’ve known her for many years. She’s reliable, has a good heart, and will serve you as well as any girl of noble birth.”
    Felda displayed as much astonishment at this referral as Estrude. Martine looked at Rainulf as if for guidance, but he smiled and spread his hands as if to say, This is up to you.
    “Felda,” she said, “would you be at all interested in this position?”
    “In being a lady’s maid?” Felda said, grinning. “I should think so!”
    Estrude shook her head. “This is preposterous.”
    Martine said, “Then it would please me greatly to have you.”
    Felda yelped with delight. Then she leaned over, took Thorne’s face between her fleshy hands, and kissed him on the lips.
    Thorne grinned. “Don’t make me sorry for suggesting you.”
    “Nay! I’ll be wonderful. Oh, milady, thank you. Can I start now?”
    Martine shrugged. “I suppose so.”
    Felda called to the boys playing dice in the corner. “Pitt! Sully! Brad! You and them others go heat up some kettles of water and bring them upstairs to milady’s chamber, then fetch the big tub. Hurry, now!” Groaning, they pocketed their dice and left the room.
    “A bath!” said Lady Martine. “I haven’t had one since leaving Paris. ‘Twill be heaven.”
    Felda grabbed two of the serving girls. “Beda, you come help me unpack milady’s things. Carol, go out to the cookhouse and bring back one of them fresh squire’s loaves and a hunk of that ripe Brie. Milady didn’t touch her supper. Also some of that buttermilk, and some brandy. Put them next to her bed.”
    As the guests rose from the table, dozens of house servants settled down in the rushes and prepared to sleep. The torches were extinguished one by one. Soon there would be only candlelight, and then the candles would be blown out, and darkness would consume the great hall.
    Thorne bid the assembled company a collective good night, then turned to stare after the new serving girl as she entered the stairwell, carrying two pitchers. Just before she disappeared from view, she turned and caught Thorne’s eye, holding his gaze for a brief but meaningful moment.
    Smiling to himself, Thorne jogged after her.
    “ Zelma! ”
    The kitchen girl paused on the stairs just below the landing, a pitcher in each hand, and looked up at him. When she saw who it was, she smiled, turned, and leaned back against the curved stone wall.
    “You’re coming undone,” he said in English, and began smoothing stray hairs off her face and tucking them into her snood. She watched him calmly. Even when his hands lowered to her breasts, she didn’t move.
    Two wolfhounds trotted down the stairs, but otherwise Thorne and Zelma were still alone. He lifted the two ends of the cord that had come unlaced and tugged hard, pulling the kirtle once more snugly around her chest. With slow deliberation, he tied the cords into a bow.
    “You’re the Saxon knight,” she said.