Read Online The outlaw's tale by Margaret Frazer - Free Book Online
Authors: Margaret Frazer
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his hold, resting a soft breast against his shoulder.
“You here for the night?" she asked. “I know where there's a dry bed you're welcome to warm."
“And no bed I'd rather," Nicholas answered. “But Evan is of a mind the men will take it ill if they're left to the rain while I lie easy so I'd best be back. We've something afoot and I need them happy."
“You need me happy, too." Beatrice leaned nearer, smelling warm and womanly. Nicholas ran his hand down to her hem and under the edge of her dress to her ankle and began to work his way up.
Evan reached past him to take the ale jug and pour his own mug full. “What's Will Colfoot doing here? That's him in the corner, isn't it, with the other fellow I don't know?"
Not bothering to look around, Beatrice said, “That's him, and his yeoman. Doesn't bother with the likes of this place often, but happen he's making his monthly circuit and tired of the rain."
While his hand went on with its business, Nicholas was looking past her to the other corner. “Will Colfoot? I don't know him, do I? Who is he?"
“A franklin from along toward Burford and other places round about."
“A franklin?" Nicholas looked at Evan with roused interest. “One of ours?"
“No. He's not safe. He has a temper, and a nasty way with anyone who crosses him so much as the breadth of a nailhead," Evan answered.
Nicholas returned his attention to Colfoot. “But if he's a franklin, the inside of his purse knows what coins look like, sure as sinning. What do you know about him, Beatrice? How much does he carry when he travels, and how many servants are with him?"
Evan stirred uneasily, but Beatrice leaned more heavily into Nicholas, still trying to hold his attention while she answered, “He carries enough to keep him comfortable, and he likes his comforts. He has a single yeoman with him always. That's the fellow at the table with him. They're both armed, and don't you be thinking of making trouble here. Old Nan values her reputation."
“And Lord knows she's had one in her day," Nicholas jibed. “From what tales I've heard tell–"
Beatrice poked him warmly in the ribs and sat down on his thigh. “I'd not be mentioning those tales where she could hear you. She still has an arm that can set a man's ear to ringing if she gets a clear swing." She settled in closer, her softness pressing against him. “Now you kiss me and not be looking at a fat old franklin or I'll think your fancy's straying."
She proceeded then - with Nicholas willing – to make sure she was the only thing he was noticing, until Old Nan squealed at her from the kitchen doorway to shift herself, that there were others that paid more and needed waiting on. With a final smothering kiss, Beatrice obliged. Nicholas' attention went back to Will Colfoot.
“One yeoman, a fat franklin, and a fatter purse. That's easy pluckings."
“That's a fool's wishful thinking," Evan retorted, but softly. “They're both armed. The yeoman is taller than you and younger than either of us. And that bulk across Colfoot's shoulders looks more muscle than fat to me."
“Then one hale yeoman and a not-so-fat franklin," Nicholas returned. “The point is, his purse is fat, for a surety. You don't dress in burgundy wool if you're pressed for coin, and that's as fine a stretch of cloth he's wearing as I've seen this many a day."
“These are our home roads. You'd not be such a fool as to stir trouble on them. We need no hue and cry after us, nor to risk our pardons at this near date."
Nicholas valued Evan's cleverness. But cleverness that interfered with sport was boring. Nicholas jammed his elbow into Evan's arm. “Why don't you ever have a go at Beatrice? She's a willing armful. Take some of that stiffness out of your backbone and put it lower, where it'll do you some good."
Evan glanced aside at him. His expression was edged with a variety of answers, but
“You here for the night?" she asked. “I know where there's a dry bed you're welcome to warm."
“And no bed I'd rather," Nicholas answered. “But Evan is of a mind the men will take it ill if they're left to the rain while I lie easy so I'd best be back. We've something afoot and I need them happy."
“You need me happy, too." Beatrice leaned nearer, smelling warm and womanly. Nicholas ran his hand down to her hem and under the edge of her dress to her ankle and began to work his way up.
Evan reached past him to take the ale jug and pour his own mug full. “What's Will Colfoot doing here? That's him in the corner, isn't it, with the other fellow I don't know?"
Not bothering to look around, Beatrice said, “That's him, and his yeoman. Doesn't bother with the likes of this place often, but happen he's making his monthly circuit and tired of the rain."
While his hand went on with its business, Nicholas was looking past her to the other corner. “Will Colfoot? I don't know him, do I? Who is he?"
“A franklin from along toward Burford and other places round about."
“A franklin?" Nicholas looked at Evan with roused interest. “One of ours?"
“No. He's not safe. He has a temper, and a nasty way with anyone who crosses him so much as the breadth of a nailhead," Evan answered.
Nicholas returned his attention to Colfoot. “But if he's a franklin, the inside of his purse knows what coins look like, sure as sinning. What do you know about him, Beatrice? How much does he carry when he travels, and how many servants are with him?"
Evan stirred uneasily, but Beatrice leaned more heavily into Nicholas, still trying to hold his attention while she answered, “He carries enough to keep him comfortable, and he likes his comforts. He has a single yeoman with him always. That's the fellow at the table with him. They're both armed, and don't you be thinking of making trouble here. Old Nan values her reputation."
“And Lord knows she's had one in her day," Nicholas jibed. “From what tales I've heard tell–"
Beatrice poked him warmly in the ribs and sat down on his thigh. “I'd not be mentioning those tales where she could hear you. She still has an arm that can set a man's ear to ringing if she gets a clear swing." She settled in closer, her softness pressing against him. “Now you kiss me and not be looking at a fat old franklin or I'll think your fancy's straying."
She proceeded then - with Nicholas willing – to make sure she was the only thing he was noticing, until Old Nan squealed at her from the kitchen doorway to shift herself, that there were others that paid more and needed waiting on. With a final smothering kiss, Beatrice obliged. Nicholas' attention went back to Will Colfoot.
“One yeoman, a fat franklin, and a fatter purse. That's easy pluckings."
“That's a fool's wishful thinking," Evan retorted, but softly. “They're both armed. The yeoman is taller than you and younger than either of us. And that bulk across Colfoot's shoulders looks more muscle than fat to me."
“Then one hale yeoman and a not-so-fat franklin," Nicholas returned. “The point is, his purse is fat, for a surety. You don't dress in burgundy wool if you're pressed for coin, and that's as fine a stretch of cloth he's wearing as I've seen this many a day."
“These are our home roads. You'd not be such a fool as to stir trouble on them. We need no hue and cry after us, nor to risk our pardons at this near date."
Nicholas valued Evan's cleverness. But cleverness that interfered with sport was boring. Nicholas jammed his elbow into Evan's arm. “Why don't you ever have a go at Beatrice? She's a willing armful. Take some of that stiffness out of your backbone and put it lower, where it'll do you some good."
Evan glanced aside at him. His expression was edged with a variety of answers, but
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