thump. She
blinked sleep from her eyes and looked at hose covered calves, up past that
disturbingly large codpiece and stomach and chest, all the way up to Bronson’s
crooked grin, his face gray in the half darkness of morning.
She glared at him.
“Wildcat in the
morning, are we, Lord Apple-Squire?”
“Be careful lest I
show you my claws. And do not call me such names.” He chortled and she kicked
at his calf, caught it with her toe, and grimaced.
“You foul
belswagger. You hurt me!” she yelled and kicked him again.
He sidestepped her
this time, a frown hovering on his face. “I hurt you? You have called the
kettle black in your idiocy.” He rubbed the hurt she caused, chuckling.
“Why have you
awakened me at this godforsaken hour? The sun has not yet arisen!” Alex
gestured at the window with a limp wrist. He arched a brow, nearly smiling to
incur detriment, and held a hand out to her. Alex ignored his proffered hand
and stood on her own, legs weak, her fury simmering below the surface. She
hated being awakened—at any hour. If she was asleep, it meant she did not want
to be awake.
“I informed you
why, whelp, now let’s be off to break our fast.”
Alex planted her
hands on her hips, stance unyielding. “Basemecu!” The word escaped her before
she’d scarce known it. When his eyes darkened, she realized she had said
something she ought not to have. She clamped a hand over her mouth as if it
would stop the word from ringing in the air.
“Kiss your arse?
You watch your tongue, whelp, lest I show you what such language entails.”
She blanched, an
image rising unbidden into her mind, one that she was certain he hadn’t meant
to project. ‘Twas best she not provoke him further this morning, leastwise
until she’d recovered some of her faculties. “A moment, if you please, my
lord. I wish to ready myself.”
Bronson looked
skeptical, hardly to blame in this instance, and ready to argue but he finally
said, “I shall see you below in the dining hall.” He left then.
She swore to
herself to get the key from him when first she could. This matter of bursting
into her room whenever he pleased was not acceptable. She was completely
vulnerable abed, and could blurt out the truth of her deception if
questioned—she’d been known to speak in her sleep of things that disturbed her.
Alex checked and
adjusted her wig and bindings, slipped a leather jerkin on over her shirt, and
untwisted her hose. Her shoes were disgusting and she could not wear them as
they were, coated in mud and other foulness. She hoped only that no misfortune
befell her poor, bare feet.
Satisfied, she went
downstairs, her procession quiet, and followed the dull roar of noise to the
dining hall. She pushed open the door and entered, then stopped. Heavy
trestle tables stretched the length of the room, filled to the brim with men
eating and cavorting amongst themselves. Their loud antics would like as soon
cause an ache in her head. She was tempted to walk back out again when Bronson
spotted her and summoned her forth with a wave of his hand.
There would be no
escaping now. The black devil had a keen eye and a wicked temper. Feet
dragging, she walked up to the head table.
Alex’s place was
beside Bronson for some reason, and when she reached him, he immediately
noticed her bare feet. His intense eyes scorched her toes. She covered one
foot with the other in embarrassment, feeling as though she’d walked out her
room naked as a babe. His talent for causing her discomfiture was paramount.
“Have you mislaid
your shoes?”
blinked sleep from her eyes and looked at hose covered calves, up past that
disturbingly large codpiece and stomach and chest, all the way up to Bronson’s
crooked grin, his face gray in the half darkness of morning.
She glared at him.
“Wildcat in the
morning, are we, Lord Apple-Squire?”
“Be careful lest I
show you my claws. And do not call me such names.” He chortled and she kicked
at his calf, caught it with her toe, and grimaced.
“You foul
belswagger. You hurt me!” she yelled and kicked him again.
He sidestepped her
this time, a frown hovering on his face. “I hurt you? You have called the
kettle black in your idiocy.” He rubbed the hurt she caused, chuckling.
“Why have you
awakened me at this godforsaken hour? The sun has not yet arisen!” Alex
gestured at the window with a limp wrist. He arched a brow, nearly smiling to
incur detriment, and held a hand out to her. Alex ignored his proffered hand
and stood on her own, legs weak, her fury simmering below the surface. She
hated being awakened—at any hour. If she was asleep, it meant she did not want
to be awake.
“I informed you
why, whelp, now let’s be off to break our fast.”
Alex planted her
hands on her hips, stance unyielding. “Basemecu!” The word escaped her before
she’d scarce known it. When his eyes darkened, she realized she had said
something she ought not to have. She clamped a hand over her mouth as if it
would stop the word from ringing in the air.
“Kiss your arse?
You watch your tongue, whelp, lest I show you what such language entails.”
She blanched, an
image rising unbidden into her mind, one that she was certain he hadn’t meant
to project. ‘Twas best she not provoke him further this morning, leastwise
until she’d recovered some of her faculties. “A moment, if you please, my
lord. I wish to ready myself.”
Bronson looked
skeptical, hardly to blame in this instance, and ready to argue but he finally
said, “I shall see you below in the dining hall.” He left then.
She swore to
herself to get the key from him when first she could. This matter of bursting
into her room whenever he pleased was not acceptable. She was completely
vulnerable abed, and could blurt out the truth of her deception if
questioned—she’d been known to speak in her sleep of things that disturbed her.
Alex checked and
adjusted her wig and bindings, slipped a leather jerkin on over her shirt, and
untwisted her hose. Her shoes were disgusting and she could not wear them as
they were, coated in mud and other foulness. She hoped only that no misfortune
befell her poor, bare feet.
Satisfied, she went
downstairs, her procession quiet, and followed the dull roar of noise to the
dining hall. She pushed open the door and entered, then stopped. Heavy
trestle tables stretched the length of the room, filled to the brim with men
eating and cavorting amongst themselves. Their loud antics would like as soon
cause an ache in her head. She was tempted to walk back out again when Bronson
spotted her and summoned her forth with a wave of his hand.
There would be no
escaping now. The black devil had a keen eye and a wicked temper. Feet
dragging, she walked up to the head table.
Alex’s place was
beside Bronson for some reason, and when she reached him, he immediately
noticed her bare feet. His intense eyes scorched her toes. She covered one
foot with the other in embarrassment, feeling as though she’d walked out her
room naked as a babe. His talent for causing her discomfiture was paramount.
“Have you mislaid
your shoes?”
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