Read Online The Maiden and the Unicorn by Isolde Martyn - Free Book Online
Authors: Isolde Martyn
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of the local churchmen if her disguise was discovered.
"Then if she is hard on her clothes, sir, would you consider something darker? Is it for summer or for winter apparel?"
"A March gown that she may wear into early summer. Her eyes are as blue as the lad's and her hair this hue." He tugged at her hair and she jerked her head back with a fierce scowl.
An apprentice tumbled a bale of honey velvet across the board but Stone shook his head and Margery bit her lip regretfully. Glancing sideways at her, his thin mouth lifting into a smile, he pointed to a pale blue, the colour of forget-me-nots and the apprentice sped up a ladder and brought it down. Richard held it against Margery's embarrassed face and shook his head.
"I think our sister might be pleased with this, brother," she said as huskily as she could, surprising him for it was the first time she had dared to speak in public. Pure pleasure flooded through him and he beamed down at her with seeming indulgence.
"Too costly. Another time, perhaps." Oh, the wench was disappointed. The corners of her mouth curled down and she turned away, pretending to inspect a twist of silken braid.
Richard finally settled on a well-dyed midnight blue velvet. It was a practical choice, the colour would not show dirt and would sufficiently suit her but it would give her a graver mien and he was at pains to make sure the King saw her differently now. Margery was most put out and ignored him as he made the other necessary purchases on her behalf, reddening when she heard him ask for cloth for underlinen.
"They were all so beautiful," she sighed after they left the shop. He smiled to himself. Her admission was a minor victory.
"I agree," he answered amiably. "The forget-me-not was excellent, too excellent."
"How so?"
He shook his head at her and would not answer.
"Now we need a compliant tailor and a good lie to tell him. How opportune it rained last night." The tale that she had been sodden to the skin came easily to his lips when he knocked at the door of a pair of tailors whom the clothier had recommended.
Margery followed him upstairs to their dwelling above the storeroom where she shyly removed the cloak and looked suitably embarrassed as the two men cast skilled eyes over her. "A low neckline, sir?"
Stone shook his head, his eyes critically studying Margery's upper anatomy. "No, cut it high." Her eyebrows rose in surprise but he turned away, nursing his laughter to himself as he set half the payment upon the table.
The men, red-eyed, their fingers calloused at the tips, brought the gown to the inn next morning to make adjustments and by sunset it was finished. Richard insisted on seeing Margery in it before he paid the remainder. He imperiously strode into the chamber and dismissed the pair to wait outside. They left, their looks knowing.
"They think you are my mistress." But Margery, he observed, was too delighted with the gown to pick up his verbal gauntlet.
Tight sleeves with turned back cuffs encased her arms without a crease and the rest of the fabric had been cleverly cut to fit her body closely at the waist. Instead of hiding her shapeliness, the high-necked gown emphasised it. Not exactly what Richard had intended; instead of helping her flaunt her obvious charms, the neatly stitched fabric swept down over sweet curves tormenting the discerning eye. He groaned inwardly. If he found her so tempting, how many others would? She looked delicious standing there, openly delighted like a child. The only solution would be to drape the folds of a old-fangled wimple headdress across her shoulders. That would hide the upper slope of those jaunty little breasts. And after all, that short hair needed to be hidden. Yes, that might conceal her charms from the King's lusty eyes. He would have to consult the experts.
She looked up finally and trapped his expression of indulgence. Surprise flickered briefly in her eyes. Instantly Richard's visor of inscrutability snapped down over
"Then if she is hard on her clothes, sir, would you consider something darker? Is it for summer or for winter apparel?"
"A March gown that she may wear into early summer. Her eyes are as blue as the lad's and her hair this hue." He tugged at her hair and she jerked her head back with a fierce scowl.
An apprentice tumbled a bale of honey velvet across the board but Stone shook his head and Margery bit her lip regretfully. Glancing sideways at her, his thin mouth lifting into a smile, he pointed to a pale blue, the colour of forget-me-nots and the apprentice sped up a ladder and brought it down. Richard held it against Margery's embarrassed face and shook his head.
"I think our sister might be pleased with this, brother," she said as huskily as she could, surprising him for it was the first time she had dared to speak in public. Pure pleasure flooded through him and he beamed down at her with seeming indulgence.
"Too costly. Another time, perhaps." Oh, the wench was disappointed. The corners of her mouth curled down and she turned away, pretending to inspect a twist of silken braid.
Richard finally settled on a well-dyed midnight blue velvet. It was a practical choice, the colour would not show dirt and would sufficiently suit her but it would give her a graver mien and he was at pains to make sure the King saw her differently now. Margery was most put out and ignored him as he made the other necessary purchases on her behalf, reddening when she heard him ask for cloth for underlinen.
"They were all so beautiful," she sighed after they left the shop. He smiled to himself. Her admission was a minor victory.
"I agree," he answered amiably. "The forget-me-not was excellent, too excellent."
"How so?"
He shook his head at her and would not answer.
"Now we need a compliant tailor and a good lie to tell him. How opportune it rained last night." The tale that she had been sodden to the skin came easily to his lips when he knocked at the door of a pair of tailors whom the clothier had recommended.
Margery followed him upstairs to their dwelling above the storeroom where she shyly removed the cloak and looked suitably embarrassed as the two men cast skilled eyes over her. "A low neckline, sir?"
Stone shook his head, his eyes critically studying Margery's upper anatomy. "No, cut it high." Her eyebrows rose in surprise but he turned away, nursing his laughter to himself as he set half the payment upon the table.
The men, red-eyed, their fingers calloused at the tips, brought the gown to the inn next morning to make adjustments and by sunset it was finished. Richard insisted on seeing Margery in it before he paid the remainder. He imperiously strode into the chamber and dismissed the pair to wait outside. They left, their looks knowing.
"They think you are my mistress." But Margery, he observed, was too delighted with the gown to pick up his verbal gauntlet.
Tight sleeves with turned back cuffs encased her arms without a crease and the rest of the fabric had been cleverly cut to fit her body closely at the waist. Instead of hiding her shapeliness, the high-necked gown emphasised it. Not exactly what Richard had intended; instead of helping her flaunt her obvious charms, the neatly stitched fabric swept down over sweet curves tormenting the discerning eye. He groaned inwardly. If he found her so tempting, how many others would? She looked delicious standing there, openly delighted like a child. The only solution would be to drape the folds of a old-fangled wimple headdress across her shoulders. That would hide the upper slope of those jaunty little breasts. And after all, that short hair needed to be hidden. Yes, that might conceal her charms from the King's lusty eyes. He would have to consult the experts.
She looked up finally and trapped his expression of indulgence. Surprise flickered briefly in her eyes. Instantly Richard's visor of inscrutability snapped down over
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