The Overlord's Bride. Margaret Moore

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      She nodded.

      He leaned even closer, examining her naked skin. Embarrassed by his scrutiny and mindful of what else he might see, she quickly pulled her shift back into place.

      “Those other scars?”

      She supposed he would have seen them sooner or later, too. Nevertheless, she couldn’t meet his steadfast gaze. “I stole things at the convent and was duly punished.”

      “You, a thief?”

      She shrugged. “We were always hungry and the little girls would weep so…”

      “You stole food?” He sat beside her on the bed.

      She raised her eyes, but could not tell if he approved, or was disgusted by her dishonesty. It was a very grave sin to steal from holy women, although in her heart she did not regret it for a moment. “All I could get, whenever I could get it,” she admitted.

      “For others?”

      It was very tempting to tell him she never touched a morsel, but she could believe this man, with his intense and penetrating gaze, would know if she lied. “I ate of it.”

      He picked up her hand. His calluses felt rough against her skin as he examined her thin arms. “Not much.”

      “Enough,” she whispered, half-afraid to speak in case it made him stop holding her.

      His gaze met hers. “Cadmus will sleep on the other side of the door.”

      She couldn’t help the sigh of relief that escaped her lips. “Thank you. I shall try to get used to him, my lord, so that he doesn’t have to be exiled forever.”

      He smiled a little and heat trembled along her limbs.

      Then noises from the courtyard caught his attention. He dropped her hand and went to the window to look outside.

      Feeling bereft and thinking it must be getting near time for mass, she threw back the covers, then shivered as the cool air hit her body.

      “Stay,” her husband ordered as he faced her, in much the same way he commanded his dog.

      “My lord?” she asked warily.

      “Stay in bed.”

      “It is so late in the day already,” she replied. She gasped as her bare feet touched the stone floor and wrapped her arms about herself as she continued. “Surely there are things I should be doing. The servants will think I am lazy. That would a terrible way to begin.”

      “No one will disturb you.”

      “I beg your pardon?”

      “Stay in bed as long as you like today. Call for Rual when you are ready.”

      She couldn’t say what shocked her more: the notion that she could climb back into that warm, soft cocoon of a bed, or that he had said so much at once. “But mass—”

      “Is over.”

      “For certain?”

      He nodded.

      “You do not fear the servants will think me slovenly?”

      He shook his head.

      Of course, she thought, he would not fear the servants.

      And neither, Lady Katherine would say, should she. So why not take advantage of his offer and indulge herself?

      She scrambled back into the bed and, snuggling down into the featherbed, gave him a delighted smile. “Thank you, my lord. I cannot say how many times I imagined such a luxury as this.”

      “You will sleep?”

      “Sleep? Oh, no, for then I would not know what I was enjoying.”

      His lips jerked into another little smile. “As you wish.”

      She sighed rapturously. “First the beautiful gown and now this! My lord, I thank you from the bottom of my heart, and I bless you for marrying me.”

      Lord Kirkheathe didn’t answer as he strode from the room.

      Sighing again, Elizabeth pulled the covers even tighter and contemplated her unusual husband. Seeing him smile, though it be a little one, made her want to laugh.

      No doubt he had many cares, being such a rich and powerful lord. She would do what she could to lessen them, especially if she could see him smile more often.

      Maybe a child would make him happier, too.

      She climbed out of the bed, noting the dried blood on the sheet as she knelt.

      “Dear God,” she prayed, wishing she had gone to mass, the better for her prayer, and also that she had been a more humble, obedient person and thus more deserving, “let me be with child. If not already, soon!”

      Fearing she had sounded too demanding, she added, “If it be Your will.”

      Shivering, she got up. Outside, the sound of horses and jingling harness took her to the window.

      Her husband sat upon a mighty stallion. Behind him was a troop of mounted soldiers. She watched as Lord Kirkheathe raised his hand and moved toward the massive gates, his well-equipped men following.

      He had not called out an order, merely raised his gloved hand and gestured. All was done with purposeful silence—and the instant obedience of well-trained and disciplined men.

      With a grin, she realized the Reverend Mother would surely approve of her husband, and just as surely think he had made a poor choice of bride.

      But the Reverend Mother was far away, and she was married, and soon—please, God, soon!—she might be a mother, looking after her children with love and kindness, as her parents had raised her before their deaths from fever when she was but eight years old.

      Sighing, she blocked out the memories that came after that, of traveling from relative to relative, never really wanted or cared for. Of the brief respite at Lady Katherine’s, who was strict, but fair.

      Then the horrid years at the convent.

      She turned and looked at the inviting bed, but there was no point now to go back. Nor did she wish to give the servants any cause to disparage her, despite her husband’s remarks on that point. She might as well dress and go to the hall.

      Besides, if breakfast was half so good as the feast…

      She slipped her feet into her shoes beside the bed and ran eagerly to the door. “Rual!”

      The woman appeared so quickly, Elizabeth thought she must have been waiting on the stairs for her summons. “My lady?”

      “I was to call for you when I was ready,” she said jovially. “Well, I am ready. Do you know where my other dress has gone? I cannot wear the velvet gown today.”

      “Your СКАЧАТЬ