Read Online The Deed by Lynsay Sands - Free Book Online Page A

back, suffering his gentleness in silent embarrassment.
    Besides tis no more than you did for me, he added as he finished cleaning away the blood
     and tossed the cloth back into the bowl. Rest now.
    Aye, my lord, Emma murmured in what she hoped was a suitably dutiful voice as he drew the
     bedclothes up to cover her. Her husband seemed satisfied with that as he stood and moved
     around the bed to climb in from the other side.
    Emma lay silently for a moment. Afraid to move and disturb the stranger in her bed, she
     let her gaze move around the room. It had been her bedroom for two years. It had always
     looked as it did now, and yet suddenly it seemed completely different. She could not
     really understand how. Nothing had changed... And yet everything had.
    Concentrating on making her breathing slow and even, she listened to the sound of revelry
     floating up from the Great Hall below. Her people were celebrating the marriage and its
     consummation as well as being saved from toiling under the hand of Lord Bertrands mother.
     That thought made her wonder why the old woman had not been at the door beside her son.
     Emma could only assume that in his effort to get here before the marriage was consummated,
     Bertrand had had to leave her behind and hurry on ahead.
    Whatever the case, Emma was grateful for her absence. Truly the woman was formidable. Emma
     most likely would have shriveled under her cold fishlike eyes.
    Emmas gaze slid to the window beside the bed and she sighed. It had been an unusual day.
     Quite taxing really, what with learning of her upcoming marriage, worrying that her
     husband would not arrive, awaiting him at the church, the ceremony itself, and then the
     exceedingly tricky business of the joining as Amaury had called it. She felt a bit foolish
     now that she realized just what consummating the marriage meant, and had to wonder what it
     would have been like with her first husband. As unpleasant as the chore was, she could
     well see why Lord Fulk had not seen fit to accomplish it. He had forever avoided anything
     unpleasant. Still, it was the only way to achieve children.
    That thought startled Emma into laying a hand gently against her stomach. She knew enough
     to be aware that that was where the child would grow and be carried. Their child. Hers and
     Lord Amaurys. Aye, she must be carrying his child, for surely it only took one such
     painful joining to make a babe? Else she was sure people would have fewer babes.
    Emma floated to sleep, a small smile playing about her lips as she daydreamed about the
     child she was probably already carrying.
    Hes gone to lick his wounds.
    Emma flushed and straightened from her slightly crouched position by the table in the
     Great Hall. She had been surveying the group of unconscious men lying about the floor,
     searching out Lord Bertrand. Now she turned to face her cousin as he reached her side. Who?
    Lord Bertrand. He departed as soon as we came back below stairs yester eve. That is who
     you were looking so cautiously for, is it not?
    Emma smiled wryly. You know me too well, Rolfe.
    Shrugging, he bent to press a kiss to her forehead. Where is your husband? Still abed?
    Aye.
    It must have been a wearing night. Emma felt herself blush again at his teasing, and
     sought quickly to change the subject. Do you wish to break fast?
    Rolfe grinned at her obvious tactics, but decided to let her off the hook. Turning, he
     raised one eyebrow at the Great Hall and its contents. Aye, breaking fast would be nice.
     However, I doubt you shall have much luck in rousing this rabble.
    Aye. Sighing, Emma surveyed the previous nights celebrants. The Great Hall was a-clutter
     with people. All of them unconscious. Men and women alike were strewn across the floor
     like dropped chess pieces. It would be difficult to cross the hall, let alone make room at
     the table to dine. Turning abruptly, she strode toward the double front doors.