Ironheart. Emily French
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Название: Ironheart
Автор: Emily French
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Историческая литература
Серия: Mills & Boon Historical
isbn: 9781474017305
isbn:
“He has all the traits of a hero—and his face is that of a warrior—such lovely eyes—all silvery-green and shining like a pigeon’s breast. And his shoulders are the broadest I’ve ever seen. Then again, mayhap ’tis his golden hair. You don’t see much hair that color around here.”
“Upon my soul, Brenna, you are wit-wandering.”
“Not so.”
“No one ought to indulge in passion, it distorts everything.”
“There are passions—and passions.”
“You might as well know that Kil Coed has sent word that he comes not only to propose a new and strong alliance with Dinas Bran, but that it would be his great pleasure to seal that covenant by wedding with you.”
Brenna stared at Elen grimly and let out an impatient breath. “The arrival of my betrothed and our marriage on the Sabbath should halt any ambitions held by another suitor! Assuming, of course, that this isn’t all a joke…?”
“I wish I had told you sooner, but I did not want to burden you until I was sure.”
A wild resentment filled Brenna. “We have taken Aubrey’s coin. I am honor-bound to wed him.”
“Keith Kil Coed is magnificent—and he’s Welsh.”
“I will not marry him!” It was a whisper, lest she scream it.
“You may have no choice. Since winter loosed its hold, he has begun to gather an army. The Lady Agnita says Sir Edmund suspects he will move against us, thinking to forge an alliance, and use our strength to advance west to Gwynedd.”
“I am betrothed to Aubrey of Leeds!”
“Betrothals can be nullified.”
“Not on the very eve of the nuptials!”
“No more dispute now. Sir Edmund has the right to decide your fate. He is in a foul mood because of this latest folly. He will be angrier if you are not at table. Go and put on your blue gown, and be nice to him, and you may find his anger only hot air.”
“Even if Grandy is about to renege on the deal and have me wed that upstart Keith Kil Coed, my knight has come, as if conjured here by magic. It is a good omen.”
“Don’t say that! The walls have ears,” Elen whispered, making the sign of the cross on brow and chest. “And there are always servants and menials of some sort to carry tales of witchcraft and druidry.”
“Old lies and old spite. How can anyone credit a word of it?”
“Be careful! I can’t prevent hostile ears from attending to some ill-spoken words—I would not have you skinned for a witch or burnt at the stake.”
A flood of fondness washed through Brenna. Elen’s hair might be mostly gray, and she might be moving a bit stiffly on winter mornings, but she was always so indulgent, so tolerant, not at all stiff and proper. She was also very superstitious.
“You are trying to make my blood run cold, Elen. Well, I am not so easily frightened.”
“Nevertheless, such talk is dangerous,” Elen said in a low voice. “I’ve seen you grow up, Brenna. You run, jump, indulge in all manner of masculine pursuits, speak four tongues and even read. ’Tis not expected of a woman, and disturbs the natural order of things.”
Brenna bit her lip to keep from laughing. “I can also sew a fine stitch, spin wool, bake bread, grow herbs, tend the sick and sing to the bees.”
“It is magic. Which is why they call you a she-devil.”
“Nonsense. The bees like my singing and make honey in appreciation. I use no magic, else I would make that upstart Kil Coed weak, turn his muscles to pudding. Instead he bends an iron axle over his knee as if it were wet bread dough.”
Low and thick, Elen said, “Don’t give them any more substance to talk about!”
“What does it matter?”
“It matters,” Elen said harshly. “I’m just trying to protect your reputation. I know you say I gossip too much, but I worry—”
“Dear Elen, you have always been worried about me, haven’t you? I remember when I was a child you were always in a flutter for fear I should fall down and hurt myself. Well, sometimes there have been reason in your fears, but no more. My knight’s presence is enough, and his strength and golden voice. I need no more.”
From now on her whole life would be dedicated to him. Yes, that’s what they’d do—walk through the years together. As if provoked a little by this resolve, thunder boomed out above the towers, making her jump. A door shut downstairs, echoing.
“It seems unreal, but I will wed Aubrey of Leeds on the Sabbath, Elen. From that moment, I will behave like a saint, that I promise you.”
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