Read Online The Holding - Book 1 in The Medieval Knights Series by Claudia Dain - Free Book Online
Authors: Claudia Dain
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his just due if she did spill her stomach in his lap. A fine bridal feast this would be then.
John saved her in the only way he could: he provided a much-needed distraction. Coming in close to William, he poured more wine, lifting his arm to just above William's face. The look of repugnance that swiftly crossed her husband's features restored her composure entirely; actually, it was an effort not to laugh. John took his time with the wine, moving his arms and clothing around much more than necessary for that simple act. Cathryn was ready for William's remark the moment John left the vicinity of the table.
"There is," he began, looking almost accusingly at her, "an odor of the unwashed mingling with that of the meal. Do you agree?"
What a fine knight she was married to, to find such distaste in a little healthy sweat. But she did not say so; nor did she reveal the direction of her thoughts in the expression on her face. Looking blandly at her husband, she answered, "The preparation of the bridal feast has quite consumed what time they had. Particularly with the delay," she added pointedly.
William did not pursue it. Instead he studied her face. It was a beautiful face, certainly, but without any warmth or sparkle in the eyes. Well, that would change, and right quickly. Cathryn was terrified of the bedding to come; once that was behind her, she would bloom like any other woman. Fear ruled her; he was sure of it.
Unfortunately, he was quite right.
Chapter 5
Cathryn stepped out of the small room that jutted off the chapel, smoothing invisible wrinkles out of the heavy wool she wore. It had been too long since she had spoken with a priest of God, and she felt better for it. At least for the moment.
Looking up at the simple cross, she remembered Father Godfrey's words. She and le Brouillard were one in God's sight; it was not such an unpalatable thought. Truly, she was bone weary of carrying the weight of all Greneforde on her shoulders. It would be good to share the burden and the decision making. And William could travel the distance to Blythe Tower as she could not; who would attack a knight of such strength? Blythe Tower could be just a mass of rubble after so many— She pulled her scattering thoughts back. It did her no good to think of Blythe Tower, yet it was time to know just what remained and what could be salvaged. Having William le Brouillard as husband would be good for Greneforde.
Cathryn suddenly had a vision of his face as he had looked down upon her from the back of his warhorse; a shiver trailed down her spine that she struggled to control. He was a man of high pride; there was no disputing that. The priest had not even pretended to. Father Godfrey had also said that William was a godly knight with a keen devotion to God's inspired word and manifest will. There was comfort in those words, for was God not known for His forgiveness and mercy?
And His righteous anger?
She could not allow her thoughts to travel there. Truly, she had never had such trouble controlling her thoughts until the arrival of William le Brouillard. What was it about him that weakened her willpower? Whatever it was, it was most annoying. She did not think it unlikely that he did so on purpose; he was French and they were an obdurate race.
Father Godfrey had been kind and comforting. He knew her husband well and had not lost faith in him even after hearing her confession, although his own composure had slipped for just a moment. Shock had been in his eyes, swiftly drowned by compassion. He was a kind man. Surely, if her husband had been in the company of such a priest, having been instructed in spiritual matters by him for many years, surely some of that kindness had taken root in him? It was a logical, if unconvincing, argument, but it was useless to ponder it. All would be well because all must be well. The words comforted her, for she lived in a world notof should but of must.
Godfrey left the tiny room with slow
John saved her in the only way he could: he provided a much-needed distraction. Coming in close to William, he poured more wine, lifting his arm to just above William's face. The look of repugnance that swiftly crossed her husband's features restored her composure entirely; actually, it was an effort not to laugh. John took his time with the wine, moving his arms and clothing around much more than necessary for that simple act. Cathryn was ready for William's remark the moment John left the vicinity of the table.
"There is," he began, looking almost accusingly at her, "an odor of the unwashed mingling with that of the meal. Do you agree?"
What a fine knight she was married to, to find such distaste in a little healthy sweat. But she did not say so; nor did she reveal the direction of her thoughts in the expression on her face. Looking blandly at her husband, she answered, "The preparation of the bridal feast has quite consumed what time they had. Particularly with the delay," she added pointedly.
William did not pursue it. Instead he studied her face. It was a beautiful face, certainly, but without any warmth or sparkle in the eyes. Well, that would change, and right quickly. Cathryn was terrified of the bedding to come; once that was behind her, she would bloom like any other woman. Fear ruled her; he was sure of it.
Unfortunately, he was quite right.
Chapter 5
Cathryn stepped out of the small room that jutted off the chapel, smoothing invisible wrinkles out of the heavy wool she wore. It had been too long since she had spoken with a priest of God, and she felt better for it. At least for the moment.
Looking up at the simple cross, she remembered Father Godfrey's words. She and le Brouillard were one in God's sight; it was not such an unpalatable thought. Truly, she was bone weary of carrying the weight of all Greneforde on her shoulders. It would be good to share the burden and the decision making. And William could travel the distance to Blythe Tower as she could not; who would attack a knight of such strength? Blythe Tower could be just a mass of rubble after so many— She pulled her scattering thoughts back. It did her no good to think of Blythe Tower, yet it was time to know just what remained and what could be salvaged. Having William le Brouillard as husband would be good for Greneforde.
Cathryn suddenly had a vision of his face as he had looked down upon her from the back of his warhorse; a shiver trailed down her spine that she struggled to control. He was a man of high pride; there was no disputing that. The priest had not even pretended to. Father Godfrey had also said that William was a godly knight with a keen devotion to God's inspired word and manifest will. There was comfort in those words, for was God not known for His forgiveness and mercy?
And His righteous anger?
She could not allow her thoughts to travel there. Truly, she had never had such trouble controlling her thoughts until the arrival of William le Brouillard. What was it about him that weakened her willpower? Whatever it was, it was most annoying. She did not think it unlikely that he did so on purpose; he was French and they were an obdurate race.
Father Godfrey had been kind and comforting. He knew her husband well and had not lost faith in him even after hearing her confession, although his own composure had slipped for just a moment. Shock had been in his eyes, swiftly drowned by compassion. He was a kind man. Surely, if her husband had been in the company of such a priest, having been instructed in spiritual matters by him for many years, surely some of that kindness had taken root in him? It was a logical, if unconvincing, argument, but it was useless to ponder it. All would be well because all must be well. The words comforted her, for she lived in a world notof should but of must.
Godfrey left the tiny room with slow
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