Awakening His Lady Read Online Free PDF

get this?”
    Meriom snatched her hand from his trembling grip. “’Twas a gift from my grandfather. Why do you ask?”
    He stared at her hand. “My master wore one like it once. He—”
    â€œYour master! What was his name?”
    â€œHe was called le broyeur . Sir Thom—”
    Meriom’s knees went weak. “Thomas Addecker?”
    The squire drew his brows together and nodded.
    Meriom swayed. Grief came crashing down, just as punishing and as unrelenting as it was the night the picker man had set her ring upon the dais.
    â€œTell me about your master. Did he slay many Frenchmen?” she asked, her voice shaking. “What words did he say before he fell? Did he speak his lady’s name?”
    The young squire stared at her, his mouth agape. “Lady Meriom?”
    Meriom nodded, unable to utter a single word.
    He knelt before her and bowed his head. “Oh, great lady. He is not dead.”
    Meriom picked up her skirts and bolted.
    Able called, “Lady Meriom, I bid you stop!”
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    She would find him. She would find the dark knight in the hall, the man she knew in her heart was Thomas. Despite his scar, his limp and the drawn face beneath the mask, the man was Thomas!
    Why in God’s name had he not revealed himself?
    Feet pounding, Meriom flew from the courtyard into the hall, where the great press of people had stilled for the moment, all eyes upon the bawdy jugglers and the magicians in the center of the floor. ’Twas easier now to move amongst the guests, most of whom were seated on benches or in the rushes. A few leaned languidly against the wall, the women flirting, the men drinking, the torch lights sputtering their last.
    Meriom wove her way around the room, ducking in and out of the shadows like Diana, the goddess of the hunt. She would find him. She’d dreamed of this moment a thousand times. She spun her ring, turning it around and around her finger. Thomas was alive and he was here! What would she say?
    A juggler forced a fiery torch down his throat, causing the crowd to release a collective gasp. They clapped and rose from their seats slowly, the energy of the evening extinguished like the juggler’s flames.
    The firelight from the hearth dwindled low and servants suddenly appeared, taking down the trestle tables and stowing all the benches. It was her father’s way of telling everyone ’twas time to leave or bed down on their pallets. The crowd diminished by the hundreds, and still she’d naught a glimpse of Thomas.
    Mayhap the dark knight was not him. Mayhap he was here, dressed another way. Three times she’d circled the room and she’d not seen him and now she stood on the highest stone step at the back of the hall, craning to see over the crowd, while revelers flooded past her, stepping around her and stumbling, filing out of the hall. Already, old men and women snored on their pallets by the fire, and the dogs had curled up in the choicest spots between them. Soon, there would soft murmurings of lovers drifting around the hall, girlish giggles, followed by shushing, and whispers pleading for discretion.
    The night was over. And Meriom felt her life coming to an end—for the second time. She wondered if Thomas had truly come back for her. Mayhap that’s what his young squire had been trying to tell her when he called her back, and she so desperate to find her Thomas had not stopped to listen. That Thomas might not want her was as cutting as the grief that engulfed her when she thought him dead. Hope faded into numbness and frustration.
    Hands trembling, she pulled the ring from her finger. Best to keep it safe on its leather string and tucked inside her bodice. It might be all she’d ever have to remember Thomas.
    Her fingers fumbling, she felt the golden band slip from her grasp. The ring tumbled, bouncing from step to step, pinging softly until it hit the rushes at the bottom. In an instant Meriom