My Lord's Desire. Margaret Moore

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СКАЧАТЬ belted with a large apron greeted Godwin warmly and nodded at a table and bench not far from a large cask of ale that had already been tapped. “Sit ye there, boys, and I’ll fetch you a mug of my best.”

      It had been a long time since anyone had called Armand de Boisbaston a boy, yet he was far from offended; indeed, he quite liked her familiar address. It made him feel like a youth again.

      Because he also wanted to speak to Godwin about something important, he was pleased to note that the bench and table she indicated were in a corner of the room. They wouldn’t be overheard by the other customers or anyone passing by the small windows, for the shutters were open to let in the fresh summer air.

      “Would you like a bite to eat, too?” Bessy asked.

      Godwin grinned. “Aye, some bread and stew for me. What about you, my lord?”

      Armand shook his head. He’d rather save the money, although the aroma wafting in from the kitchen made his mouth water.

      “As you will,” Bessy said with a toss of her light brown hair before heading to the kitchen.

      “Well, my lord?” Godwin asked as he slid onto the bench. “Was I lying? Isn’t Bessy something?”

      “She is,” Armand agreed.

      Godwin chuckled and leaned closer. “I tell you, my lord, if I could get her to marry me, I’d be a happy man.”

      “You’d have both a pretty wife and a business that seems to be prospering,” Armand agreed. “She must be busy these days with all the people visiting Ludgershall while the king’s in residence.”

      “Aye, she is. Merchants and tradesmen from London and all over England have been coming here.” Godwin lowered his voice. “She could do without them routiers, though. A bad lot, the bunch o’ them.”

      Armand thought of another pretty woman who had to endure men’s unwanted attention, and felt a twinge of regret that he hadn’t come up with a better plan to confer with her.

      Bessy set down two frothing mugs of ale and shook her head when Armand went to pay. “You’re Armand de Boisbaston, aren’t you?”

      “I am.”

      “Thought so. I heard about your hair. No charge for you, then, my lord. Keep your money for your brother’s ransom. He come here once and did me a bit of service. There was a rough lout who wouldn’t pay for his meal. He paid up quick enough when he had the tip of your brother’s sword at his throat.” She grinned at the memory, then frowned when Godwin’s hand went to the purse at his belt.

      “Nor you, neither, Godwin,” she said. “Your ale’s free till Christmas for fixing my roof.”

      She winked at the soldier, and then hurried off to take more bread to the farmers.

      “She’s very generous,” Armand noted.

      “Aye,” Godwin murmured as Bessy lifted the mug from the slumbering merchant’s hand without waking him.

      As the pair of young men chastised her for spoiling their entertainment, she gave them a maternal smile and said, “Mind your manners, boys, or I’ll make Moll stay in the kitchen.”

      They groaned and Armand turned to Godwin. “Who’s Moll?”

      “Bessy’s daughter, and as pretty as her mother.”

      At nearly the same time, a young woman appeared in the doorway leading to the kitchen. She was very pretty, in an apple-cheeked, robust way. She held a plate of steaming stew in her hand, with a small loaf on the side, and although she didn’t look at her two young admirers, Armand realized she was well aware they were there.

      She smiled at Godwin as she set the food before him and acknowledged Armand’s presence with a little dip, although as she did, she slid the two young men a glance. She had an even saucier swing to her hips when she strolled toward them afterward.

      “A young unmarried woman like that can cause a lot of trouble in a village,” Armand said.

      “Oh, she’s a good girl, is Moll,” Godwin replied as he ate the stew with gusto. “And it’s no secret she’s sweet on the smith’s son. They’d be married by now if he wasn’t livin’ with his parents. He’s started buildin’ a house, though, so it’s likely they’ll marry before the winter.”

      “Those two lads will be disappointed.”

      “Not much. They just like to tease her.”

      And indeed, their easy banter with the young woman belied any serious intent on their part.

      After looking around to make sure no one was paying any attention to them, Armand leaned closer to Godwin and got down to business. “I’m glad I met you this morning, Godwin. I have a message for the earl, and I’d like you to take it.”

      Godwin stopped eating and regarded him gravely. “Of course, my lord, if the steward will give me leave.”

      “I think he will,” Armand said. “I need to send another to Canterbury, as well. Is there someone you could recommend to take it, someone who’s as trustworthy as you?”

      Godwin’s expression was thoughtful, as well as proud. “Bert’s a good lad and he can’t read, so even if I’m wrong, he wouldn’t know what was in the letter.”

      Satisfied, Armand nodded. “I’ll write the letters and speak to the steward as soon as we return.”

      “What ho within!” a jovial young man shouted outside to accompaniment of laughter and the stamp of horses’ hooves. “Bessy my love, I’m parched!”

      The door to the tavern burst open and five young noblemen came stumbling into the taproom, laughing and swearing. Leading the pack was the already drunk Sir Alfred de Marleton, followed by Lord Richard d’Artage. Then came Charles de Bergendie who Armand knew by reputation; he was said to be a worthy opponent in a melee, despite his youth. Sir Edmond de Sansuren and his brother, Roger, brought up the rear. Armand knew nothing bad of those two, except that they seemed to follow whoever was of a mind to lead them. Apparently, they were following Alfred today, at least as far as wine was concerned.

      Bessy marched into the room just as a sixth young man joined the band of drunken knights—the dark-haired, bearded and seemingly sober Sir Oliver.

      “Well, now, what have we here?” the alewife asked, one hand on her ample hip.

      Although she smiled, Armand was quite sure she was neither pleased nor impressed with these potential customers, whether they were noblemen or not. Her daughter, meanwhile, sidled toward her mother, and the door to the kitchen.

      “Some very thirsty fellows,” Sir Alfred said with a sodden grin. “We thought we might find something to assuage it here.”

      “Aye, you might,” Bessy answered.

      Alfred leered at Moll. “Oh, I think we will. And we’re hungry, too.”

      He lunged for Moll, grabbed her arm and pulled her toward him. “Very hungry,” he murmured, running his hand over her bodice, “and here’s just СКАЧАТЬ