Sword for His Lady by Mary Wine Page A

robe.
    Mildred humphed as she tugged the knot loose. “He will demand what he wants from you, sure enough. Or did you not learn that when he tossed you over his saddle this morning?”
    â€œWhat I learned was that I should not be changing my mind when it comes to wedding him. Such would be a distraction.”
    â€œOh aye. A man like that is surely a distraction, on that I agree.”
    Mildred lifted the under robe away. Isabel released the tie on her wimple, sighing as she tugged the thing off her head.
    â€œYou detest that wimple,” Mildred scolded. “Yet you wear it now because of Ramon. Would it not be simpler to enjoy what you may from the man? You adore children. I recall how disappointed you were when you bled.”
    â€œI shall not wed him.”
    Mildred pressed her lips into a disapproving line. “Stubbornness is a form of pride and that is a sin. You were not unmoved by his touch. I saw the proof with my own eyes. He stirred your passions.”
    â€œPassion is a form of lust and that is also a sin,” she argued.
    Mildred surprised her by offering her nothing but a gentle smile. “I forget you are yet young.”
    â€œWhat do you mean by that?” Mildred shook her head and headed toward the door. “Mildred? I do not understand.”
    â€œI know you do not, my lamb. But ’tis for Ramon de Segrave to teach you in this matter.”
    â€œI wish no lessons from him. Our life is good. There is no need to change.”
    â€œAre you saying you’d rather not make improvements until you are desperate for them?” Mildred shook her head disapprovingly. “Careful. Fate has a cruel side to her nature.”
    â€œCan I not simply be grateful for what I have, without longing for more?”
    Mildred didn’t hear her. Or if she did, she paid Isabel’s argument no mind. The door closed, leaving Isabel with only a single candle for company.
    The chamber was suddenly darker than she recalled. Larger maybe…colder…
    Enough.
    She chided herself. There was no reason to feel lonely. Her bed had always been a sanctuary, the one place Bechard was certain not to bother her. When he’d wanted to use her, he’d summoned her to his chamber.
    She shuddered with disgust and climbed into the bed. The bedding was newly washed and smelled like sunshine. The candle was a beeswax one, gently lending the sweet scent of honey to the night air.
    Perfect.
    Yes, perfect, and she would make sure that she focused her thoughts on what was most important.
    She was happy in her life. Content beyond measure. She reached for her comb and began to work the tangles from her hair.
    But the door opened and the comb slipped from her fingers. Ramon de Segrave strode boldly into the chamber.
    â€œAre you insane?” She’d meant to sound demanding, but her voice was too high.
    Ramon lifted one eyebrow in a lazy manner, as if to convey that his appearance in her bedchamber wasn’t alarming.
    â€œDoes your tone mean you doubt my honor, lady? You seemed quite willing to test me this evening. I am here to prove myself worthy.”
    Her chemise suddenly felt nearly transparent as opposed to simply thin. She fought the urge to cross her hands over her breasts. The baron’s squire walked across the chamber and placed his master’s goblet on the table.
    â€œAppearing in my bedchamber is not proving yourself, my lord.”
    The baron sat down and his squire immediately set to work removing the spurs that were tied to each boot.
    â€œHow else will you know for certain that I did not partake of the generous feast you laid before me at supper?”
    Her cheeks stung. “I trust my people to speak the truth.” She was stammering. Ramon’s squire looked at her curiously.
    â€œMind your gaze, Alfred,” Ramon corrected the youth.
    The youth turned his attention back to his master.
    â€œAs I told you this morning, Isabel, bring your needs to