their packhorses and made a tidy profit, but I chose to come all the way to Hagthorn.”
Belamé considered for a moment before summoning the guard who was standing aside. “Put him in a guest chamber,” he muttered.
It took Ravener only a moment to discern his meaning. Shit, he should have settled for the wine. Now he would spend the night below in a dank cell with rats for company. Fear rippled along his spine. Perhaps Belamé wanted no witnesses to what he was about to do. Ravener blurted, “I won’t talk!”
Belamé replied, “You have the right to remain silent … forever.” A bold plan was forming in Roger de Belamé’s head. He got the idea from something another baron had already done. You needed permission from the king to marry an heiress, but since there was no king at the moment it needed only a forced marriage and consummation and the deed was done—the lands secured. Dawn would bring him a fine prize indeed.
When Falcon returned to the castle for supper, he was sorry that he’d spoken so sharply to Jasmine. She didn’t show her face in the dining hall and he missed her. Amere glimpse of her brought him pleasure, and when he could contemplate her lovely face and form all through a meal it made it seem like a banquet. He would seek her in her chamber before he retired and tell her that she could go to Avisa if John was to be crowned king. He wanted to see the corners of her mouth lift when he told her. He wanted to kiss the corners of her mouth … For over an hour he savored the anticipation of being alone with her, knowing anticipation was sometimes more pleasurable than the reality. Falcon knocked low and, when she did not answer, thought she was asleep. He knocked again louder, then threw the door wide to reveal the empty room devoid of the baggage. He opened the inner door of the chamber, knowing he would find Dame Winwood’s room empty also. He swore a fertile oath and kicked a stool across the room. The old bitch, aye, and the young bitch too, had gone home to the keep after he had told them plainly it was not safe.
It was full dark and the moon was rising as he strode into the knights’ quarters. He picked three of his own and three Salisbury men to take with him to Winwood Keep. As he would leave them there as a guard, he picked older men who were veterans and could be counted on to defend a keep should the need arise. Within quarter of an hour they had packed their belongings and were in the saddle riding south.
Falcon de Burgh was stunned to discover that Jasmine had not returned home. That left only one alternative, which his mind almost refused to acknowledge. In all his life he had never had an order seriously disobeyed, and it had not occurred to him that he would ever suffer willful disobedience at the hands of a woman.
“She dared!” he said in amazement. “She actually dared.” In that moment he knew that when he got his hands on her, he would beat her. “Sorry, lads,” he muttered,“I’m afraid we’ll have to turn about and ride north to Cirencester.”
Not one man thought to grumble, though it would be tomorrow before they got out of their saddles, but de Burgh was angry for them. His men would miss their ale and their comfortable beds because of the whim of a willful wench. He would wash his hands of her! Then he grudgingly acknowledged that the very reason he was riding toward her, at once angrily and eagerly, was that he fancied she was the right wench for him.
Chapter 8
Daylight dawned very early on this May morn. Jasmine and Estelle did no more than wash their hands and faces. They broke their fast with bread and cheese left over from their supper and slipped down to rouse David who had slept with the packhorses for safekeeping.
The early mist in the hollows of the meadows would burn off once the sun was full risen. They were two or three miles past Marlborough when suddenly, from behind a copse of trees, four armed men bid them halt. David had his sword out
Belamé considered for a moment before summoning the guard who was standing aside. “Put him in a guest chamber,” he muttered.
It took Ravener only a moment to discern his meaning. Shit, he should have settled for the wine. Now he would spend the night below in a dank cell with rats for company. Fear rippled along his spine. Perhaps Belamé wanted no witnesses to what he was about to do. Ravener blurted, “I won’t talk!”
Belamé replied, “You have the right to remain silent … forever.” A bold plan was forming in Roger de Belamé’s head. He got the idea from something another baron had already done. You needed permission from the king to marry an heiress, but since there was no king at the moment it needed only a forced marriage and consummation and the deed was done—the lands secured. Dawn would bring him a fine prize indeed.
When Falcon returned to the castle for supper, he was sorry that he’d spoken so sharply to Jasmine. She didn’t show her face in the dining hall and he missed her. Amere glimpse of her brought him pleasure, and when he could contemplate her lovely face and form all through a meal it made it seem like a banquet. He would seek her in her chamber before he retired and tell her that she could go to Avisa if John was to be crowned king. He wanted to see the corners of her mouth lift when he told her. He wanted to kiss the corners of her mouth … For over an hour he savored the anticipation of being alone with her, knowing anticipation was sometimes more pleasurable than the reality. Falcon knocked low and, when she did not answer, thought she was asleep. He knocked again louder, then threw the door wide to reveal the empty room devoid of the baggage. He opened the inner door of the chamber, knowing he would find Dame Winwood’s room empty also. He swore a fertile oath and kicked a stool across the room. The old bitch, aye, and the young bitch too, had gone home to the keep after he had told them plainly it was not safe.
It was full dark and the moon was rising as he strode into the knights’ quarters. He picked three of his own and three Salisbury men to take with him to Winwood Keep. As he would leave them there as a guard, he picked older men who were veterans and could be counted on to defend a keep should the need arise. Within quarter of an hour they had packed their belongings and were in the saddle riding south.
Falcon de Burgh was stunned to discover that Jasmine had not returned home. That left only one alternative, which his mind almost refused to acknowledge. In all his life he had never had an order seriously disobeyed, and it had not occurred to him that he would ever suffer willful disobedience at the hands of a woman.
“She dared!” he said in amazement. “She actually dared.” In that moment he knew that when he got his hands on her, he would beat her. “Sorry, lads,” he muttered,“I’m afraid we’ll have to turn about and ride north to Cirencester.”
Not one man thought to grumble, though it would be tomorrow before they got out of their saddles, but de Burgh was angry for them. His men would miss their ale and their comfortable beds because of the whim of a willful wench. He would wash his hands of her! Then he grudgingly acknowledged that the very reason he was riding toward her, at once angrily and eagerly, was that he fancied she was the right wench for him.
Chapter 8
Daylight dawned very early on this May morn. Jasmine and Estelle did no more than wash their hands and faces. They broke their fast with bread and cheese left over from their supper and slipped down to rouse David who had slept with the packhorses for safekeeping.
The early mist in the hollows of the meadows would burn off once the sun was full risen. They were two or three miles past Marlborough when suddenly, from behind a copse of trees, four armed men bid them halt. David had his sword out
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