Read Online The Falcons of Montabard by Elizabeth Chadwick - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Elizabeth Chadwick
Tags: Fiction, Historical
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but her years in the convent had taught her discipline, and when she made her move it was measured and steady. 'You told him that you would harm him if he touched me.'
'Indeed I did, as I would tell any man who had not the right.' He looked thoughtfully at his daughter. 'Sabin knows my rules and he has agreed to abide by them. I hope you are not going to make them difficult for him to keep.'
Annais stared at him, her brown eyes wide and hurt. 'You do not trust me either?'
46
'Of course I trust you.' He rubbed the back of his neck in discomfort. 'But men like FitzSimon are attractive to women. I've never seen so many ladies come out to watch battle practice in midwinter before. They see prowess on the field, and when its instigator is young and handsome, the results are inevitable.'
Annais looked quickly down at the merels board as if considering her strategy. What her father said was so true that it was mortifying.
'By all means be civil to Sabin FitzSimon,' Strongfist said in a gentler tone, 'but do not seek his company. I am glad to see from his behaviour just now that he has taken my strictures to heart. All I ask is that you do not hinder him.'
'No, Papa,' Annais murmured in a chastened voice. In a way, although she felt a little resentful, she was also relieved. Having rules by which to abide was like having an anchor in a stormy sea. She would not make a fool of herself again.
'Good lass.' He nodded and, dismissing the subject, settled down to consider his strategy. Although he won the first game easily, Annais had recovered sufficiently by the second to run him close, and the third time she defeated him, with a delighted laugh.
The hayloft was filled with the fragrant aroma of summer from golden stalks, fat dried seedheads, faded stems of clover, poppy and feathery Our Lady's bedstraw. His heart thundering in the aftermath of pleasure and exertion, Sabin inhaled the evocative scents of the season, blended with the sweat and woodsmoke exuding from his companion's damp skin.
She was a dairymaid, but since the dairy was not particularly active in the winter months, she had time to spare and was prepared to give generously. She was a widow, unattached, experienced and barren, all of which gave Sabin cause to thank God for His bounty.
Although his much-needed release had felled him like a poled ox, he managed to roll off her and flop on his back. After
47
a moment, he found the strength to pull his braies back up and retie the cord that held them at his waist.
The woman leaned on her elbow and watched him. Her loose brown-gold hair tumbled about her shoulders. It was her best feature, shiny and clean.
'How long before you leave?' she asked, winding a coil of it around her forefinger.
He flashed her a grin, his chest heaving. 'Why? Was my performance so bad that you cannot wait to be rid of me?'
She laughed, her eyes full of candid humour. 'You dined with fine manners despite your hunger,' she said. 'I just wondered if you were going to be a regular guest at the board.'
He shrugged and pillowed his hands behind his head. 'We leave next month, providing we get no more snow.' He closed his eyes, feeling drowsy and replete. A smile curled his mouth corners. 'But I will need to feed myself up for the famine to come.'
'There is Sir Edmund's daughter,' she said slyly and rolled over so that she lay along the length of his hard, whipcord body.
Sabin chuckled and did not open his eyes. 'Precisely, sweeting,' he said. 'There is Sir Edmund's daughter, and I want to live.
It was late when Sabin finally bade farewell to his companion and they went their separate ways, she to the kitchens, he to the hall. They had slept for a time in their nest of hay, had woken and lazily taken a second appreciation of each other's bodies, by which time dusk was but a memory and outside it was full dark.
The evening meal had been served and finished for some while, but he intercepted a basket of bannocks on its way back to the
'Indeed I did, as I would tell any man who had not the right.' He looked thoughtfully at his daughter. 'Sabin knows my rules and he has agreed to abide by them. I hope you are not going to make them difficult for him to keep.'
Annais stared at him, her brown eyes wide and hurt. 'You do not trust me either?'
46
'Of course I trust you.' He rubbed the back of his neck in discomfort. 'But men like FitzSimon are attractive to women. I've never seen so many ladies come out to watch battle practice in midwinter before. They see prowess on the field, and when its instigator is young and handsome, the results are inevitable.'
Annais looked quickly down at the merels board as if considering her strategy. What her father said was so true that it was mortifying.
'By all means be civil to Sabin FitzSimon,' Strongfist said in a gentler tone, 'but do not seek his company. I am glad to see from his behaviour just now that he has taken my strictures to heart. All I ask is that you do not hinder him.'
'No, Papa,' Annais murmured in a chastened voice. In a way, although she felt a little resentful, she was also relieved. Having rules by which to abide was like having an anchor in a stormy sea. She would not make a fool of herself again.
'Good lass.' He nodded and, dismissing the subject, settled down to consider his strategy. Although he won the first game easily, Annais had recovered sufficiently by the second to run him close, and the third time she defeated him, with a delighted laugh.
The hayloft was filled with the fragrant aroma of summer from golden stalks, fat dried seedheads, faded stems of clover, poppy and feathery Our Lady's bedstraw. His heart thundering in the aftermath of pleasure and exertion, Sabin inhaled the evocative scents of the season, blended with the sweat and woodsmoke exuding from his companion's damp skin.
She was a dairymaid, but since the dairy was not particularly active in the winter months, she had time to spare and was prepared to give generously. She was a widow, unattached, experienced and barren, all of which gave Sabin cause to thank God for His bounty.
Although his much-needed release had felled him like a poled ox, he managed to roll off her and flop on his back. After
47
a moment, he found the strength to pull his braies back up and retie the cord that held them at his waist.
The woman leaned on her elbow and watched him. Her loose brown-gold hair tumbled about her shoulders. It was her best feature, shiny and clean.
'How long before you leave?' she asked, winding a coil of it around her forefinger.
He flashed her a grin, his chest heaving. 'Why? Was my performance so bad that you cannot wait to be rid of me?'
She laughed, her eyes full of candid humour. 'You dined with fine manners despite your hunger,' she said. 'I just wondered if you were going to be a regular guest at the board.'
He shrugged and pillowed his hands behind his head. 'We leave next month, providing we get no more snow.' He closed his eyes, feeling drowsy and replete. A smile curled his mouth corners. 'But I will need to feed myself up for the famine to come.'
'There is Sir Edmund's daughter,' she said slyly and rolled over so that she lay along the length of his hard, whipcord body.
Sabin chuckled and did not open his eyes. 'Precisely, sweeting,' he said. 'There is Sir Edmund's daughter, and I want to live.
It was late when Sabin finally bade farewell to his companion and they went their separate ways, she to the kitchens, he to the hall. They had slept for a time in their nest of hay, had woken and lazily taken a second appreciation of each other's bodies, by which time dusk was but a memory and outside it was full dark.
The evening meal had been served and finished for some while, but he intercepted a basket of bannocks on its way back to the
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