who’d spoken, for she recognized the voice. ’Twas Trudy, a laundry maid well-known for her wit. Not surprisingly, humor had brightened Trudy’s voice; Julianna had never seen her without a smile on her face. Why the usually merry woman had joined the outraged gathering was a mystery, however.
Diccon’s face reddened, but he laughed. “Ye never do know, Trudy,” he replied. “Though we most likely shouldn’t be talking like this in front of Lady Julianna. Beg pardon, milady.”
His words made her feel almost an interloper.A sudden need to be gone beset her; it began to seem as though they’d stood here in the bailey forever. She’d no patience left to act as mediator, or for much else, if truth be told.
Julianna glanced around, taking note of the stable boys raking the bare ground as they sought to appear busy while watching the commotion. Peering up, she saw a cluster of weavers at the wide window of the solar. The women stood packed together as tight as the threads they should have been weaving, staring avidly down into the bailey rather than working productively at their looms.
Her annoyance mounting, she shifted her gaze to the window below the solar, where she could see that Will had remained a part of their audience as well.
For some reason that fact forced her temper from impatient to foul.
“Mary, Joan, Diccon, Trudy—come with me.” She snapped out the words, her sharp tone eliciting a few startled looks. “As for the rest of you, I’m sure you’ve better things to do. I suggest you go and do them.” Julianna barely paused to be certain they’d obeyed her before turning on her heel and heading for the stairs leading into the hall.
She led the four of them into a small chamber off to the side of the hall, closing the door with an uncharacteristic snap. The sound jarred her from the fog of edginess and annoyance dogging her, bringing with it an embarrassed sense that she’d suddenly begun to behave like an impatient brat.
What was wrong with her? she wondered as she crossed the room and eased herself onto the wide seat beneath the window. She’d always had a temper—who did not, after all? But she’d not been one to inflict her ill humor on others, nor to treat her people so poorly as she feared she just had done. Guilt rising, she motioned for the others to sit on the bench alongside the wall facing her.
They positioned themselves just as Julianna expected; Diccon and Trudy in the middle, with Joan on one side of them, Mary on the other.
Hopeful that this arrangement indicated that no additional fighting would take place for the moment, Julianna closed her eyes, dragged a hand through her hair and worked to regain her good sense.
“Milady, are you all right?” Diccon asked.
Before Julianna’s weary and confused braincould conjure up an answer for him, a burst of laughter made her eyes pop open.
“Of course she’s not, you dolt!” Trudy jabbed her elbow into Diccon’s side. “’Tis clear enough to me . Can’t you see what’s ailin’ her?”
“Enough o’ that, wench.” Diccon moved Trudy a handbreadth away with a gentle nudge. “See what? You don’t look sick, milady,” he assured Julianna with what was no doubt meant to be encouragement.
“I didn’t say she was sick,” Trudy told him, winking. “Ailing, I said. ’Tis not the same at all, if you know what I mean.”
Julianna didn’t know what Trudy meant—nor did the others, judging by their bewildered expressions.
Trudy sighed, leapt to her feet and swept her hand toward her mistress. “’Tis that man,” she said. “The handsome knight our own warrior lady carried here, across her saddlebow, like in the old legends,” she added. “Don’t you all see? Lady Julianna is in love! Our Bride of the Tower is about to become a wife in truth.”
Chapter Twelve
F rom his vantage point by the window, Will observed the scene in the bailey, his interest piqued when Julianna hung back for a moment before
Diccon’s face reddened, but he laughed. “Ye never do know, Trudy,” he replied. “Though we most likely shouldn’t be talking like this in front of Lady Julianna. Beg pardon, milady.”
His words made her feel almost an interloper.A sudden need to be gone beset her; it began to seem as though they’d stood here in the bailey forever. She’d no patience left to act as mediator, or for much else, if truth be told.
Julianna glanced around, taking note of the stable boys raking the bare ground as they sought to appear busy while watching the commotion. Peering up, she saw a cluster of weavers at the wide window of the solar. The women stood packed together as tight as the threads they should have been weaving, staring avidly down into the bailey rather than working productively at their looms.
Her annoyance mounting, she shifted her gaze to the window below the solar, where she could see that Will had remained a part of their audience as well.
For some reason that fact forced her temper from impatient to foul.
“Mary, Joan, Diccon, Trudy—come with me.” She snapped out the words, her sharp tone eliciting a few startled looks. “As for the rest of you, I’m sure you’ve better things to do. I suggest you go and do them.” Julianna barely paused to be certain they’d obeyed her before turning on her heel and heading for the stairs leading into the hall.
She led the four of them into a small chamber off to the side of the hall, closing the door with an uncharacteristic snap. The sound jarred her from the fog of edginess and annoyance dogging her, bringing with it an embarrassed sense that she’d suddenly begun to behave like an impatient brat.
What was wrong with her? she wondered as she crossed the room and eased herself onto the wide seat beneath the window. She’d always had a temper—who did not, after all? But she’d not been one to inflict her ill humor on others, nor to treat her people so poorly as she feared she just had done. Guilt rising, she motioned for the others to sit on the bench alongside the wall facing her.
They positioned themselves just as Julianna expected; Diccon and Trudy in the middle, with Joan on one side of them, Mary on the other.
Hopeful that this arrangement indicated that no additional fighting would take place for the moment, Julianna closed her eyes, dragged a hand through her hair and worked to regain her good sense.
“Milady, are you all right?” Diccon asked.
Before Julianna’s weary and confused braincould conjure up an answer for him, a burst of laughter made her eyes pop open.
“Of course she’s not, you dolt!” Trudy jabbed her elbow into Diccon’s side. “’Tis clear enough to me . Can’t you see what’s ailin’ her?”
“Enough o’ that, wench.” Diccon moved Trudy a handbreadth away with a gentle nudge. “See what? You don’t look sick, milady,” he assured Julianna with what was no doubt meant to be encouragement.
“I didn’t say she was sick,” Trudy told him, winking. “Ailing, I said. ’Tis not the same at all, if you know what I mean.”
Julianna didn’t know what Trudy meant—nor did the others, judging by their bewildered expressions.
Trudy sighed, leapt to her feet and swept her hand toward her mistress. “’Tis that man,” she said. “The handsome knight our own warrior lady carried here, across her saddlebow, like in the old legends,” she added. “Don’t you all see? Lady Julianna is in love! Our Bride of the Tower is about to become a wife in truth.”
Chapter Twelve
F rom his vantage point by the window, Will observed the scene in the bailey, his interest piqued when Julianna hung back for a moment before
Similar Books
