Read Online Promise of the Rose by Brenda Joyce - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Brenda Joyce
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will mark my words and fight your inclination.”
Isobel was disappointed but undaunted. “Does that mean you aren’t going to tell me what you’ve done to her?”
“I have done nothing to her,” he said, then added, “yet.”
Isobel blinked, fascinated.
“Go and send Mairi to me.” He leveled a hard gaze on his sister. “And then you may join Brand downstairs.” He did not want her snooping outside his chamber door.
Isobel nodded, still wide-eyed, and ran off. Unsmiling, Stephen shrugged off his undertunic. It was time to make good his intentions—it was time to make Mairi Sinclair reveal the truth about herself.
Chapter 4
T he heavy wooden door of the Liddel keep swung open to admit a group of men. They were soaked with rain and covered with mud, for outside it was storming fiercely, the sky black, the wind howling. Thunder boomed and lightning lit up the sky. Queen Margaret sat by the fire in the smoke-stained hall, motionless and despairing, unfinished embroidery at her feet. At the first sound of their entrance, she leapt up. “What news?”
Malcolm entered ahead of the other men, flinging off his sodden mantle, a servant unable to catch it before it fell into the muddy rushes on the floor. Immediately he strode to his wife. “We have not found her, Margaret.”
Margaret made a sound of fear, clutching for his hands.
Four men, all wet and weary, trekked into the hall behind him. Malcolm and Margaret’s three eldest sons, excluding Ethelred, a priest, were removing their dripping outerwear and reaching for cups of warm wine which servants hastily brought forth. The fourth man paused to stand and stare blindly into the hearth’s roaring flames, a puddle forming at his feet. He made no move to shed his soaking cloak.
“You have found something,” Margaret cried, clutchingMalcolm’s hand. “You are hiding something from me!”
“We have only speculation, nothing more,” Malcolm said grimly. But his face was flushed darkly, telling Margaret that he was furious and barely able to contain his anger.
“What is it? What have you found? Mary cannot have just disappeared!”
Edmund whirled. Tall and lean, he was the image of his craggy-faced father. “Show her,” he demanded. “So we may know for sure.”
Edward, the oldest brother, grabbed his arm and jerked him back. “Leave Mother alone,” he warned. “There is no sense alarming her further.”
“You will get nowhere with this attitude,” Edmund scowled. He was a year younger than Edward and of them all, he most resembled Malcolm. “Do you want to find Mary or not?”
“Of course I do!”
“Stop it!” Margaret cried, her usual calm completely shattered. “How dare you fight now! Malcolm!
Tell me
!”
Malcolm gripped her hands. “There were Norman soldiers here yesterday, Margaret, not a mile from Liddel.”
Margaret gasped. “You don’t think …?”
“Show her, Father,” Edmund demanded. “Ask her if it belongs to Mary.”
Edward shoved past Edgar and hit Edmund with his fist in the shoulder, but Edmund was bigger, and the blow only unbalanced him slightly. Immediately Edgar came to Edward’s aid, ready to jump upon Edmund, until a roar from Malcolm ceased the fisticuffs.
Malcolm withdrew a piece of wet, white cloth from his belt. Edward made a sound of protest. Edgar, hardly a year older than Mary, was ashen. Malcolm ignored his sons, carefully unfolding the scrap, watching his wife. “Could this be a piece of Mary’s shift?”
Margaret’s eyes widened and she gasped. “Where did you find that?”
“Where the Normans had their camp,” Malcolm said grimly.
Margaret swayed.
Malcolm and Edward caught her at the same time, steadyingher. “Do not fear, Mother,” Edward said soothingly, but his jaw was tight. “We shall find her and return her to you in no time at all.”
“Just the time it takes to find the whoreson bastard,” Edgar said darkly, glancing quickly at the silent man who still stood
Isobel was disappointed but undaunted. “Does that mean you aren’t going to tell me what you’ve done to her?”
“I have done nothing to her,” he said, then added, “yet.”
Isobel blinked, fascinated.
“Go and send Mairi to me.” He leveled a hard gaze on his sister. “And then you may join Brand downstairs.” He did not want her snooping outside his chamber door.
Isobel nodded, still wide-eyed, and ran off. Unsmiling, Stephen shrugged off his undertunic. It was time to make good his intentions—it was time to make Mairi Sinclair reveal the truth about herself.
Chapter 4
T he heavy wooden door of the Liddel keep swung open to admit a group of men. They were soaked with rain and covered with mud, for outside it was storming fiercely, the sky black, the wind howling. Thunder boomed and lightning lit up the sky. Queen Margaret sat by the fire in the smoke-stained hall, motionless and despairing, unfinished embroidery at her feet. At the first sound of their entrance, she leapt up. “What news?”
Malcolm entered ahead of the other men, flinging off his sodden mantle, a servant unable to catch it before it fell into the muddy rushes on the floor. Immediately he strode to his wife. “We have not found her, Margaret.”
Margaret made a sound of fear, clutching for his hands.
Four men, all wet and weary, trekked into the hall behind him. Malcolm and Margaret’s three eldest sons, excluding Ethelred, a priest, were removing their dripping outerwear and reaching for cups of warm wine which servants hastily brought forth. The fourth man paused to stand and stare blindly into the hearth’s roaring flames, a puddle forming at his feet. He made no move to shed his soaking cloak.
“You have found something,” Margaret cried, clutchingMalcolm’s hand. “You are hiding something from me!”
“We have only speculation, nothing more,” Malcolm said grimly. But his face was flushed darkly, telling Margaret that he was furious and barely able to contain his anger.
“What is it? What have you found? Mary cannot have just disappeared!”
Edmund whirled. Tall and lean, he was the image of his craggy-faced father. “Show her,” he demanded. “So we may know for sure.”
Edward, the oldest brother, grabbed his arm and jerked him back. “Leave Mother alone,” he warned. “There is no sense alarming her further.”
“You will get nowhere with this attitude,” Edmund scowled. He was a year younger than Edward and of them all, he most resembled Malcolm. “Do you want to find Mary or not?”
“Of course I do!”
“Stop it!” Margaret cried, her usual calm completely shattered. “How dare you fight now! Malcolm!
Tell me
!”
Malcolm gripped her hands. “There were Norman soldiers here yesterday, Margaret, not a mile from Liddel.”
Margaret gasped. “You don’t think …?”
“Show her, Father,” Edmund demanded. “Ask her if it belongs to Mary.”
Edward shoved past Edgar and hit Edmund with his fist in the shoulder, but Edmund was bigger, and the blow only unbalanced him slightly. Immediately Edgar came to Edward’s aid, ready to jump upon Edmund, until a roar from Malcolm ceased the fisticuffs.
Malcolm withdrew a piece of wet, white cloth from his belt. Edward made a sound of protest. Edgar, hardly a year older than Mary, was ashen. Malcolm ignored his sons, carefully unfolding the scrap, watching his wife. “Could this be a piece of Mary’s shift?”
Margaret’s eyes widened and she gasped. “Where did you find that?”
“Where the Normans had their camp,” Malcolm said grimly.
Margaret swayed.
Malcolm and Edward caught her at the same time, steadyingher. “Do not fear, Mother,” Edward said soothingly, but his jaw was tight. “We shall find her and return her to you in no time at all.”
“Just the time it takes to find the whoreson bastard,” Edgar said darkly, glancing quickly at the silent man who still stood
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