Read Online Valentine by Heather Grothaus - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Heather Grothaus
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ingredients from the abbey’s larder and prepared it myself after I learned of our journey last eve.”
Mary blinked. “You made all of this?”
“I have many talents,” he said, handing Mary a cup and then raising his own to her in a silent salute before drinking. He sighed with relish. “It is very good, yes?”
She swallowed a mouthful of cabbage and lamb and spices. “Yes, it’s delicious!”
His smile broadened and he set his cup aside to pick up one of the rolls. “Since we are to be in each other’s company for many weeks, shall I call you Maria?”
“My name is Mary,” she clarified, a little stung that he had so quickly forgotten.
“Oh, yes, I know,” Valentine assured her. “But in my country, you would be Maria.” He half-sang the word, and the way it danced for him made Mary’s cheeks heat.
“In your country, you would likely be dead,” she pointed out, trying to cover her flush.
He laughed and drank again. When he set his cup down once more, it was slightly closer to Mary’s. He leaned far across the food to grab a handful of fruit from the sack, and when he settled back onto the blanket, Mary noticed he was perhaps twice as close to her as he had been only a moment before. She wasn’t sure how he had managed the move so slickly.
He kept the smile on his face as he popped a few pieces into his mouth. “You may call me Valentine, of course. In my country, we say Valen teen , but you may pronounce it however you wish.”
Mary fussed at her skirts, avoiding his warm gaze.
“I have yet to hear my name from your lips—will you indulge me?”
“Valentine,” she said distractedly, looking over his shoulder.
“Very nice,” he praised, drawing even closer to her.
“Valentine?” she repeated.
“Yes, that is right. Did you know that today is my bir—”
She put her hand over his mouth, her fingers flattening his nose and stopping his advance. “Valentine, someone’s coming.”
Chapter 5
N ot someone, some ones .
A trio of riders came onto the Vienna road from one of the smaller paths. Men of some means, by the look of their fine horses and sheathed weapons. One even had a small leather shield tied behind him. They had apparently spotted Valentine and Mary from the road and were slowing their horses, turning toward the grove of trees.
Damn! He’d allowed himself to become so distracted by the lovely English flower at his side that he hadn’t heard even a whisper of their approach. Valentine slid a respectable distance from Maria and casually felt inside the top of his boot; his dagger was there.
“Now seems as good a time as any,” he remarked to the woman beside him, whose eyes were wide. “Remember, brother and sister. Only follow my lead.”
She murmured assent.
“Ho there,” one of the men called out. He walked his horse closer to where Valentine and Maria sat, and his face was openly curious. “Good day! How do you find the road to Vienna?”
“Good day to you,” Valentine said. “It is well, although my lady sister does no care for the dust.”
“Isn’t it the same for most? Good day, my lady.” The traveler smiled at Maria before surveying the items on the blanket. His eyes went from Valentine to Maria again, more cautiously. It was not completely unlikely to find siblings who appeared to be so unrelated. Not common, though.
Valentine sought to distract the man. “Have you made a long journey?”
“Not half as long as it shall be at its end,” the man confessed. His gaze lingered on Maria, and Valentine decided he did not like the interest he saw there. “We are en route to Vienna, and then on through the Continent to Constantinople. What of you?”
“Also Vienna,” Maria chirped.
“Brussels,” Valentine offered in the same moment. He winced inwardly as Maria’s gaze flew to his.
The man’s forehead wrinkled. “You mean you’ve come from Brussels to Vienna?”
Mary nodded hesitantly.
“No.” Valentine laughed.
Now the traveler
Mary blinked. “You made all of this?”
“I have many talents,” he said, handing Mary a cup and then raising his own to her in a silent salute before drinking. He sighed with relish. “It is very good, yes?”
She swallowed a mouthful of cabbage and lamb and spices. “Yes, it’s delicious!”
His smile broadened and he set his cup aside to pick up one of the rolls. “Since we are to be in each other’s company for many weeks, shall I call you Maria?”
“My name is Mary,” she clarified, a little stung that he had so quickly forgotten.
“Oh, yes, I know,” Valentine assured her. “But in my country, you would be Maria.” He half-sang the word, and the way it danced for him made Mary’s cheeks heat.
“In your country, you would likely be dead,” she pointed out, trying to cover her flush.
He laughed and drank again. When he set his cup down once more, it was slightly closer to Mary’s. He leaned far across the food to grab a handful of fruit from the sack, and when he settled back onto the blanket, Mary noticed he was perhaps twice as close to her as he had been only a moment before. She wasn’t sure how he had managed the move so slickly.
He kept the smile on his face as he popped a few pieces into his mouth. “You may call me Valentine, of course. In my country, we say Valen teen , but you may pronounce it however you wish.”
Mary fussed at her skirts, avoiding his warm gaze.
“I have yet to hear my name from your lips—will you indulge me?”
“Valentine,” she said distractedly, looking over his shoulder.
“Very nice,” he praised, drawing even closer to her.
“Valentine?” she repeated.
“Yes, that is right. Did you know that today is my bir—”
She put her hand over his mouth, her fingers flattening his nose and stopping his advance. “Valentine, someone’s coming.”
Chapter 5
N ot someone, some ones .
A trio of riders came onto the Vienna road from one of the smaller paths. Men of some means, by the look of their fine horses and sheathed weapons. One even had a small leather shield tied behind him. They had apparently spotted Valentine and Mary from the road and were slowing their horses, turning toward the grove of trees.
Damn! He’d allowed himself to become so distracted by the lovely English flower at his side that he hadn’t heard even a whisper of their approach. Valentine slid a respectable distance from Maria and casually felt inside the top of his boot; his dagger was there.
“Now seems as good a time as any,” he remarked to the woman beside him, whose eyes were wide. “Remember, brother and sister. Only follow my lead.”
She murmured assent.
“Ho there,” one of the men called out. He walked his horse closer to where Valentine and Maria sat, and his face was openly curious. “Good day! How do you find the road to Vienna?”
“Good day to you,” Valentine said. “It is well, although my lady sister does no care for the dust.”
“Isn’t it the same for most? Good day, my lady.” The traveler smiled at Maria before surveying the items on the blanket. His eyes went from Valentine to Maria again, more cautiously. It was not completely unlikely to find siblings who appeared to be so unrelated. Not common, though.
Valentine sought to distract the man. “Have you made a long journey?”
“Not half as long as it shall be at its end,” the man confessed. His gaze lingered on Maria, and Valentine decided he did not like the interest he saw there. “We are en route to Vienna, and then on through the Continent to Constantinople. What of you?”
“Also Vienna,” Maria chirped.
“Brussels,” Valentine offered in the same moment. He winced inwardly as Maria’s gaze flew to his.
The man’s forehead wrinkled. “You mean you’ve come from Brussels to Vienna?”
Mary nodded hesitantly.
“No.” Valentine laughed.
Now the traveler
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