Lady Danger (The Warrior Maids of Rivenloch, Book 1) Read Online Free PDF

document from the table before the old lord could spill his supper on it, blowing on the wax seal to harden the mark of Rivenloch.  No doubt the servant was peeved at being inconvenienced in this manner.  But Lord Gellir had insisted the papers be drawn up at once, despite the fact that everyone was in the midst of a meal.
    The lord smiled vaguely, dismissing the scribe from the noisy great hall with a wave of his bony hand, then returned his attention to the roast coney in the trencher before him.
    Pagan picked at his own supper.  He could not help but pity the old Lord of Rivenloch.  He’d surely been a formidable warrior in his day, for his great two-handed sword hung upon the wall above a dozen shields of conquered knights.  He was large of bone and broad of shoulder, with fingers long enough to singlehandedly choke a man.  What few strands remained of his hair were light, and his eyes were a startling blue, marking him as the son of Viking stock.  But time had worn him down like a river wears rock, softening his frame and unfortunately softening his mind as well.
    It was painfully clear now that the King had handed Rivenloch over to Pagan not so much as a gift, but as a duty.  For in the hands of a witless lord with three daughters and a company of knights grown rusty with peace, without the Cameliard fighting force to defend it, Rivenloch would surely fall to the English.  And that would be a tragedy.  The castle was magnificent, its location enviable.
    At Pagan’s request, when they’d first arrived, the youngest daughter and her wizened, white-braided servant had shown the two of them about the holding.
    Of course, once he took a closer look, he realized there were changes he’d need to make.  Some of the outbuildings were rotted and in need of repair.  There wasn’t enough storage.  And the curtain walls surrounding the keep and its generous yard could stand to be fortified.
    But those walls enclosed everything one needed to survive in the wilds of Scotland.  A sturdy stone chapel stood in the midst of the courtyard, flanked by a well.  A large orchard supplied apples, wardens, walnuts, plums, and cherries, and the pottage garden grew thick with vegetables.  Various workshops abutted the curtain wall, as did two kitchen sheds and an armory.  Behind the keep were housed the hounds, horses, and hawks.  And at the furthest end, running the width of the wall walk was an extensive tiltyard.  The keep itself, from the tops of its four towers with their cunningly placed windows to the depths of the spare, but well-secured cellars, was a castle to make any man proud.  A prize, he supposed, worth the price of marriage.
    “Aye, ‘tis all settled,” the lord repeated, giving Pagan a distracted grin as he fondly patted his youngest daughter on the head.
    The poor maid had gone as pale as milk.  Pagan wondered if anyone had even bothered to tell her she was being considered for marriage.  But he couldn’t summon up a smile of reassurance for her.  The decision burdened him with a sickly heaviness that suddenly robbed him of his appetite.
    Around them, the noise of supper continued obliviously along, as if no earthshaking choice had been made, as if no life-altering fate had been decreed at all.
    “You won’t regret your decision,” Colin said gently to the damsel, trying to ease her fears with a friendly word and a wink.  “Though many a maid will be melancholy to learn Sir Pagan Cameliard’s heart has finally been won.”
    The lass swallowed hard and lowered her dewy gaze to the mazer of ale before her, which she hadn’t touched.
    “To your health!” her father cried, startling the poor girl and raising his cup so briskly that ale sloshed over the rim and onto the white linen tablecloth.
    The castle folk, seated at trestle tables about the great hall and unaware of the cause of the lord’s outcry, nonetheless cheered him in halfhearted answer.
    Pagan dutifully lifted his cup, though his