Read Online Two Passionate Proposals by Serenity Woods - Free Book Online Page A

wanted a bath before he ate.
    Eleanor considered telling him to ask his
master to take a dive in the moat if he wanted to get wet, but refrained from
saying the words. She’d always considered herself a good hostess, and decided
for the moment she would think of him as her guest—perhaps that way she would
avoid getting herself into too much trouble.
    She ordered two serving lads to fill the
wooden tub resting in the corner of one of the guest chambers with hot water,
and was busy laying out towels and fresh clothing when Henry appeared in the
doorway.
    He looked around the room, his face
expressionless, and she realised her error. “Oh. Of course. You should have the
master chamber.” She cursed herself for her idiotic mistake. “My apologies, my
lord.” Being deferential to him irked her greatly. Yet the precariousness of
her situation—and that of the other inhabitants of the castle—necessitated her
good behaviour. She didn’t want to provoke him into throwing her out or, worse,
throwing her to his men.
    He glared at her. “Stop being so damned
subservient, Ella. It does not suit you. I will not change my mind and stick
everyone’s heads on stakes because you gave me the wrong room.”
    “Fine.” She was about to snap back at him,
then realised he’d called her by her childhood nickname and her anger vanished
as quickly as it had arisen. She saw through his irritation; he was tired and
probably desperate for his bath. She poured a goblet of wine and held it out to
him as he approached. “The bath is ready if you would like one.”
    He stopped before her and looked at the
wine. She realised he was wondering if she might have poisoned it. “Oh God’s
teeth. Do you think me as vindictive as that?” She took a mouthful of the wine
and swallowed it, then stuck her tongue out at him. “You looked hot and grumpy.
I thought you might like a drink.”
    He eyed her testily. “I am hot and grumpy
because I am wearing all this cursed armour on such a hot day.” He faced her
with hands on hips. “Do you promise you are not going to try and stick a knife
in my back at the first opportunity if I take it off?”
    Eleanor raised an eyebrow. “If I come at
you with a knife, Hal de Tracey, you will be awake and facing me, and with a
weapon in your hand, believe me.”
    For the first time since they’d met, the
corners of his mouth tugged with a smile. “Nobody has called me that for ten
years.”
    She lowered her eyes with fake humility. “I
apologise, my lord.” She sank into a deep curtsey.
    “Oh, get up.” He fumbled with irritation at
the straps buckling the breastplate onto his leather doublet. “And for the sake
of all that is holy, get me out of this metal oven.”
    “Um, should we not wait for your squire to
come and help?”
    “I could not find him, and no, I cannot
wait.” He glared. His manner made it clear he was used to being obeyed.
    Eleanor took a deep breath and let it out
slowly as he turned and drank his wine in one gulp, then refilled his goblet.
She’d been married for seven years. She was not a blushing virgin; of course
she could cope with this.
    As he faced her, she examined what armour
he wore. It had been a struggle to fasten plate pieces over Geoffrey’s stout
frame. Helping Henry, however, proved another matter. She was well aware that muscle
and not fat lay beneath the metal plates. Earlier, he’d removed the bits he could
manage himself, including his gauntlets and the pieces covering his forearms
and legs. Now, she undid the straps buckling the breastplate and the backplate
together at the side, and then held the cuirass up so he could slide from under
it, trying not to catch his hair on the mail attached to the bottom. She then
untied the pauldrons on his shoulders, and the pieces covering his upper arms
and elbows.
    “And this.” Henry grunted when he was
finally free, beginning to unlace the thick-padded doublet giving his body some
protection from the armour. Eleanor