Read Online The Penwyth Curse by Catherine Coulter - Free Book Online

sound out many words when she saw them, but she wasn’t about to let him know that. She backed away from him and studied the parchment. Thanks be to all the precious martyrs’ shinbones, she could make out most of it. She raised her head and smiled sweetly at him. It was a nice smile, he thought, albeit as false as a minstrel’s tales. “Forgive me for throwing my wine at you, Sir Bishop. It was rude and I most sincerely and humbly apologize for it. I thank you for not striking me down.”
    â€œYour apology is about as sincere as your desire for another husband, my lady. You make it just because you’re afraid that I will indeed strike you down. I am tempted, so you will mind your tongue and swallow your rudeness.”
    â€œOf course I don’t want you to strike me down. I am not stupid, nor am I rude. For the most part.”
    Bishop heard his men, to the man, sigh with relief. He knew they were praying that he wouldn’t take offense, that he wouldn’t rise up and throw the female into the rushes, and then fall over dead from the curse. After all, they might be included.
    He smiled at her, not at all a nice smile. “Do tell me what you think of the writ, my lady. Do you agree with the king’s bidding?”
    â€œIt is my grandfather’s opinion that is important here,” she said, and he hated it that she’d so easily slipped out of the mild humiliation he’d planned for her. A woman reading, it was ridiculous. Why, he had only learned to read because Lord Lisenthorpe had a brother who was a monk and revered such things. He hadn’t liked learning it, but now he appreciated actually being able to read abill of sale or a contract, or a keep’s records. It was true that a man who couldn’t read could be easily cheated.
    â€œAye,” he said, unwilling to give it up just yet, “but it appears that Lord Vellan gives you great latitude. He must think your brain holds less air than most ladies? The king said that your grandfather has petitioned many times for you to be made his heir, Baroness Penwyth. Mayhap if you’d told the king you could read, he might have granted it.” Then he gave her an evil smile. “Although I doubt it. A woman who can read is something akin to a duck who can sing.”
    He thought she would burst with rage, and he felt the sweet warmth of it all the way to his belly. He also thought it a good thing that she didn’t have any wine close at hand.
    But she didn’t burst. She stood there as still as a warrior’s pennant on a windless day. She showed control, and that was important, particularly since he would be her husband. After a moment, she said, “It is something the king should do. He should trust my grandfather’s judgment.”
    â€œDon’t be foolish,” Bishop said, unable to help himself. “The king would sooner give a sheep into the tender keeping of a wolf than allow a holding of strategic importance deeded into a woman’s hands. It is nonsense.” He realized, of course, that he was gravely insulting Lord Vellan along with his witch of a granddaughter, and he hastened to add, “I doubt not your good intentions, my lord, but Penwyth must be held by a strong man, a warrior with experience.”
    â€œYou are not old enough to have much experience.”
    â€œI have more experience than my years could expect. Now, I remarked that many of your men-at-arms—at the least the five who are standing against the wall over there—are nearing advanced years. And that is why, is it not, that you had to give over your castle to the four marauders?”
    Surprisingly, Lord Vellan laughed. “You will meet mymen soon, Sir Bishop. Right now they are guarding me and Merryn, all their attention focused on you. They aren’t nearing advanced years, they have long since gained their advanced years. They cannot fight like the wily young rats they used to be, but