Margaret Moore - [Warrior 14] Read Online Free PDF Page A

too, but Lord Throckton waved him back down. “Just off to the garderobe. That French wine goes right through my English guts.” He gave Blaidd a rather sodden wink. “But it tastes too good not to drink it.”
    With that, he made his way out of the hall, leavingonly an empty chair between Blaidd and Lady Rebecca.
    He couldn’t resist the temptation. “So, my lady,” he said to her, “do you often play castle guard?”
    She regarded him steadily, obviously not the least embarrassed by his question. “No, sir knight.”
    “But today you thought to amuse yourself at my expense?”
    “Not only myself. The garrison enjoyed it, too. I’m sorry you didn’t see the humor in it.”
    He didn’t believe she was sorry at all. “Nobody likes to be made a fool of.”
    “No, and handsome young knights with all the world at their feet most of all. But humility is good for the soul, is it not, sir?”
    “Yes, it is. It’s a pity you don’t possess that quality yourself.”
    She reared back slightly. “How can you say that? Of course I’m humble. How could I not be, when I must compare myself to my sister every day?”
    “What else could it be but arrogance to think you have the right to make a knight play the fool?”
    “If I am arrogant, what are you—a man who smiles at every woman he meets as if she must be fairly salivating with desire for him?”
    “Becca!” Lady Laelia gasped.
    Blaidd had forgotten she was there. “It’s all right, my lady,” he assured her. “I take no offense.”
    Nevertheless, Lady Laelia’s expression hardened and her lips thinned. No soft and gentle maiden wasshe now; she was at war. He had seen women at such battles often enough to recognize the signs.
    “If you’re so disposed to talk, sister,” she said through clenched teeth, “why don’t you tell him about the time you fell out of the apple tree?”
    Lady Rebecca flushed as her eyes flashed with anger. Blaidd suddenly had the sensation that he was caught between two enemy lines, without even a dagger to fight with.
    “Would you like to hear that story, Sir Blaidd?” Lady Rebecca asked with a serenity distinctly at odds with the look in her eyes. “It’s really terribly amusing.”
    Blaidd was quite sure it was anything but. “I think I have listened to enough stories for tonight. May we have some music instead?”
    Lady Rebecca continued to regard him with her steadfast and bold gaze. “I’ve heard that Welshmen are excellent singers. Perhaps you would prove the point, sir knight?”
    “He’s a noble guest, not some troubadour,” Lady Laelia protested.
    Blaidd gave them both a friendly smile to show he took no offense. “It’s true that most Welshman can sing, something we are justly proud of. If you wish to hear my humble attempt at a ballad, I’ll be happy to oblige you.”
    Lord Throckton came staggering back and threw himself into his chair. He looked from one daughter to the other, and his eyes narrowed. “What’s been going on?”
    “Becca has—”
    “Been my usual annoying self,” she interrupted. “Sir Blaidd has just offered to sing us a Welsh ballad.”
    “Has he now?” Lord Throckton cried, ignoring the first part of her comments. “Wonderful! I’ve always wanted to hear a Welshman sing. But before that, what do you say to some dancing?” He shouted at the young serving woman Trev had been talking to. “Meg, fetch Rebecca’s harp! Bran, Tom, take down the tables!”
    It became too noisy for conversation as Meg disappeared up the stairs leading to the household apartments. The two male servants the lord had addressed quickly marshaled some others to help them take down the tables. The high table they would leave for last.
    “Your daughter plays the harp?” Blaidd asked when the worst of the noise abated.
    “Aye, and well, too.” Lord Throckton leaned toward Laelia, forcing Blaidd back in his chair. “But not so well as my Laelia dances!”
    That explained the urgency to have dancing.