Read Online The Falcons of Montabard by Elizabeth Chadwick - Free Book Online
Authors: Elizabeth Chadwick
Tags: Fiction, Historical
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he immediately changed focus to the middle distance and she was free to hide herself within the concealing thicket of other women, her cheeks as hot as wafer irons.
For the rest of the day she avoided the hall and spent her time in the women's quarters, helping to embroider a cloth for the dais table, although embroidery was one of her least favourite pastimes. By the time dusk arrived, her eyes were blurred, her
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thumb sore where she had accidentally driven a needle into the quick of her nail and she had decided that she was being foolish. Sabin FitzSimon, whatever his reputation, was unlikely to attempt a seduction beneath her father's nose. What had happened was a single unguarded look, caused by no more than the residue of his triumph on the field and her admiration for his prowess. There was no reason to skulk in the purgatory of the bower. Indeed, by skulking she made it seem more than it was.
Setting her piece of the embroidery aside, hoping that her aunt would not notice the small brown bloodspot marring the bleached linen, she went down to the hall. Her father was deep in conversation with several of the household knights. Sabin had been playing a game of merels with one of the older squires but, as Annais arrived, the youth rose, stretched, nodded to Sabin and went off to attend to his duties. Sabin started to put the wooden gaming pieces in their leather pouch. He paused briefly as Annais took her place on the bench across from him, then continued the task with nimble fingers.
'I see that you are trying to get me killed,' he murmured with a rueful glance in her father's direction. The latter had turned with the unerring instinct of a hound on a scent and although he remained among his companions, it was obvious that his attention was no longer wholly on the conversation.
Annais frowned. 'Have you been told not to speak to me?'
He smiled grimly. 'I have been told that you are a beautiful, convent-raised innocent and that if I so much as loosen a single hair of your braid, your father will mutilate me where it matters.' He tugged the drawstring tight on the pouch and, placing it on top of the little gaming board, pushed it towards her. 'By all means play, demoiselle, but not with me.'
She reddened, for the words had a double meaning, and even if she had been raised in a convent, she was not entirely as innocent as her father thought. There had been a couple of women who had turned to God for solace only after living well-rounded lives.
'And if my father wasn't watching?'
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He rose to his feet. 'I think the answer would be the same. The match would neither be even, nor fair.' Inclining his head to her, he strode off down the hall.
She felt hot and a little foolish. It had been a rebuff in no uncertain terms. She also felt aggrieved because she had only been attempting to be civil... or had she? A small inner voice whispered that there was more. That she had wanted him to stay and play at merels, had wanted to watch his swift, supple fingers move upon the pieces.
Her father's shadow darkened the grainy light from the lantern standing on the trestle. Sitting down, he unfastened the drawstring of the gaming pouch that Sabin had pulled tight. 'You need a partner for merels?' he said.
Annais didn't really want to play but she nodded dutifully. 'You have warned him well,' she said. 'How are we going to be travelling companions if we are not even permitted to speak to each other?'
'I have set no such terms upon him,' Strongfist said, 'nor upon you.' His blue eyes were shrewd as he arranged the merels pieces. 'But when you come from the women's quarters and go straight to him with a high colour in your cheeks, it gives me cause to be anxious.'
'Without reason!' Annais's tone was full of righteous indignation. 'I merely spoke to him out of courtesy.'
'I am glad to hear it, daughter.' He gestured with his hand, indicating that she should open the game.
Annais was tempted to shove one of the pieces in temper,
For the rest of the day she avoided the hall and spent her time in the women's quarters, helping to embroider a cloth for the dais table, although embroidery was one of her least favourite pastimes. By the time dusk arrived, her eyes were blurred, her
44
thumb sore where she had accidentally driven a needle into the quick of her nail and she had decided that she was being foolish. Sabin FitzSimon, whatever his reputation, was unlikely to attempt a seduction beneath her father's nose. What had happened was a single unguarded look, caused by no more than the residue of his triumph on the field and her admiration for his prowess. There was no reason to skulk in the purgatory of the bower. Indeed, by skulking she made it seem more than it was.
Setting her piece of the embroidery aside, hoping that her aunt would not notice the small brown bloodspot marring the bleached linen, she went down to the hall. Her father was deep in conversation with several of the household knights. Sabin had been playing a game of merels with one of the older squires but, as Annais arrived, the youth rose, stretched, nodded to Sabin and went off to attend to his duties. Sabin started to put the wooden gaming pieces in their leather pouch. He paused briefly as Annais took her place on the bench across from him, then continued the task with nimble fingers.
'I see that you are trying to get me killed,' he murmured with a rueful glance in her father's direction. The latter had turned with the unerring instinct of a hound on a scent and although he remained among his companions, it was obvious that his attention was no longer wholly on the conversation.
Annais frowned. 'Have you been told not to speak to me?'
He smiled grimly. 'I have been told that you are a beautiful, convent-raised innocent and that if I so much as loosen a single hair of your braid, your father will mutilate me where it matters.' He tugged the drawstring tight on the pouch and, placing it on top of the little gaming board, pushed it towards her. 'By all means play, demoiselle, but not with me.'
She reddened, for the words had a double meaning, and even if she had been raised in a convent, she was not entirely as innocent as her father thought. There had been a couple of women who had turned to God for solace only after living well-rounded lives.
'And if my father wasn't watching?'
45
He rose to his feet. 'I think the answer would be the same. The match would neither be even, nor fair.' Inclining his head to her, he strode off down the hall.
She felt hot and a little foolish. It had been a rebuff in no uncertain terms. She also felt aggrieved because she had only been attempting to be civil... or had she? A small inner voice whispered that there was more. That she had wanted him to stay and play at merels, had wanted to watch his swift, supple fingers move upon the pieces.
Her father's shadow darkened the grainy light from the lantern standing on the trestle. Sitting down, he unfastened the drawstring of the gaming pouch that Sabin had pulled tight. 'You need a partner for merels?' he said.
Annais didn't really want to play but she nodded dutifully. 'You have warned him well,' she said. 'How are we going to be travelling companions if we are not even permitted to speak to each other?'
'I have set no such terms upon him,' Strongfist said, 'nor upon you.' His blue eyes were shrewd as he arranged the merels pieces. 'But when you come from the women's quarters and go straight to him with a high colour in your cheeks, it gives me cause to be anxious.'
'Without reason!' Annais's tone was full of righteous indignation. 'I merely spoke to him out of courtesy.'
'I am glad to hear it, daughter.' He gestured with his hand, indicating that she should open the game.
Annais was tempted to shove one of the pieces in temper,
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