LADY UNDAUNTED: A Medieval Romance Read Online Free PDF

What think you, Ivo?”
    The priest stuffed a piece of cheese in his mouth and slowly chewed.
    Seeking another path down which to lead Liam Fawke, Joslyn said, “How came you into the village?”
    “In this, my uncle proved useful. He gained us entrance in the name of the Church.”
    “And had you been turned away?”
    “We would have waited for night and scaled the walls.”
    “I see.” She looked to her trencher.
    A quarter hour later, she was again dragged from her thoughts, this time by the arrival of Father Paul, the priest who had ministered to the people of Rosemoor for the past twenty years and had presided over the vows spoken between Maynard and her.
    Following one of Liam Fawke’s men across the hall, Father Paul seemed relieved to lay eyes upon Joslyn, but his smile lowered as he took in her appearance.
    She stood to receive him.  
    “Regain your seat, Lady Joslyn,” Liam Fawke ordered.
    She longed to defy him, but Father Ivo’s foot atop hers reminded her to tread lightly, and she lowered to the bench.
    While Father Paul waited to be told the reason he had been brought to the manor, Liam Fawke ordered his men from the hall.
    “Where they go?” Oliver asked.
    “Outside,” Joslyn whispered.
    “Why?”
    “Because…” Knowing she was about to be drawn into another of his endless queries, she said, “I will tell you later.”
    He sighed and returned to scavenging her trencher.
    When all that remained were Father Ivo, Father Paul, Joslyn, and Oliver, Liam Fawke strode around the table. “I apologize for rousing you so late in the day, Father, but I have good reason.”
    The priest eyed him. “You are?”
    “Sir Liam Fawke, half brother to Lady Joslyn’s husband, who is now departed.”
    Father Paul crossed himself and cast his sympathetic gaze upon Joslyn.
    She inclined her head in acceptance of condolences for a man neither had known well.
    “What is it you want of me, my son?”
    “There is the question of who stands to inherit my brother’s estates.”
    The priest folded his hands at his waist. “I would think it Oliver.”
    A muscle in Liam Fawke’s jaw spasmed. “The child is legitimate born?”
    Joslyn leapt to her feet, but before she could voice anger at what he implied, Father Ivo gripped her arm and pulled her down.
    “It matters not,” he whispered.
    She drew a shaky breath and conceded it was of no benefit to challenge Liam Fawke. Not yet.
    “Of course Oliver is legitimate,” the priest said. “’Tis Lady Joslyn we speak of, sir, not a harlot.”
    “When was she wed to my brother?”
    “The year of our Lord 1344. The end of autumn, was it not, Lady Joslyn?”
    Teeth clenched, she nodded.
    “Aye,” the priest continued, “there were leaves upon the ground and a storm in the making.”
    “Was the marriage recorded?”
    “No marriage or birth in Rosemoor goes unwritten. By my own hand it was inscribed in the church docket.”
    “The banns were read prior to the ceremony?”
    “Nay, a special license was obtained.”
    Liam Fawke’s nostrils flared. “I would see the license and the church docket.”
    “I do not lie, Sir Liam, and neither am I so old I cannot remember.”
    “I will see them.”
    Though the man of God looked near to arguing, he drew a breath. “They are at the church.”
    Liam looked to his uncle. “Do you come?”
    Father Ivo rose. “It surprises me you would ask, William.”
    Joslyn floundered over the priest calling his nephew by another name, but she remembered Maynard had said his brother refused to take the English form of Liam. “William,” she whispered, and thought it not at all fitting for the man she feared.
    She returned her gaze to him and, finding he watched her, inwardly groaned at the likelihood he had seen his name play across her lips.
    “Lady Joslyn, I ask you to remain here until my return.”
    It was no request. “And if I do not?” she dared as Father Ivo had warned against.
    His lids narrowed. “You are free to move