Margaret Moore - [Warrior 14] Read Online Free PDF

The man wanted his daughter’s talents on display.
    Meg reappeared, bearing a small stringed instrument. The reverent way she gave it to Lady Rebecca suggested that she was particular in its handling, as if it were very valuable. Yet the harp was plain, and although the wood had been polished to a bright sheen, it did not look to be worth much in itself. Itmust be the value its possessor placed on it that made the servant treat it with so much care.
    While Lady Rebecca tuned the instrument, Blaidd rose and held out his hand to Laelia. She limply placed hers in his and allowed him to lead her to the cleared space.
    Then Lady Rebecca began to play.
    How she played! Her fingers flew along the strings, coaxing out marvelous sounds and quick rhythms perfect for a round dance. As she played, she bent over the instrument, swaying, lost in the music with the true joy of the naturally gifted.
    If she were in Wales, she would be far more valued than Lady Laelia for her talent. As for Lady Laelia’s dancing, it was excellent, but she moved with all the joy of a soldier on a long forced march.
    The dance came to an end and, applauding enthusiastically, Blaidd left Lady Laelia and approached her sister. “That was wonderful, my lady. You play very well indeed. If you dance as well as you play, you would astonish even the court. I hope you will dance next with me.”
    Instead of being pleased, Lady Rebecca looked as if she’d like to strike him dead on the spot. She slowly got to her feet, clutching her harp so tightly her knuckles whitened. “If you will excuse me, Sir Blaidd, I’m going to retire.”
    Then she limped out of the hall.

Chapter Three
    S lipping into the cool darkness of the chapel was like diving into the river at night, Becca reflected as she closed the heavy door behind her. Before her accident, during the warm summer months, she would sometimes sneak out of the castle for a night dip in the pond below the mill.
    That sort of risky escapade had ended with the tumble out of the tree.
    Putting those happier, carefree days from her mind, Becca moved forward slowly, one hand against the cold stone wall to guide her steps, the hem of her garments slapping against her booted ankles and making small sounds in the stillness.
    The air smelled of damp and incense, and a single votive candle burned in a niche holding a statue of the Blessed Virgin. Weak shafts of moonlight penetrated the narrow windows, and one feeble beam illuminated the altar.
    Becca knelt before it, the stones hard and cold and unyielding, and pressed her hands together.
    “Dear Father in Heaven,” she prayed, “let it be a fine day tomorrow, so that I may ride out. Let me leave the castle for a little while.”
    Her voice turned grim. “If I can’t, grant me the grace to guard my tongue and not say hateful things I regret the moment they leave my lips. Help me not to be jealous of Laelia, Father. She can’t help it if she is beautiful and I’m not. Help me to overcome my anger and bitterness because I can’t hope to have a suitor like…”
    She drew a deep breath and her knuckles whitened. “To have any man want me,” she corrected. “I don’t want to make people hate me but to have yet another knight ride up to our gate seeking Laelia and to know that it will never be thus for me is getting so hard to bear!” Her voice began to rise again with her rancor. “And when such a man smiles so, and has a voice that makes me feel like I’m wrapped in a velvet cloak and cradled in his arms… When the merest touch of his lips to my hand heats my blood near to boiling—”
    Her breath caught and, ashamed, she bowed her head. “Oh, God, take away these lustful thoughts and feelings! Please, God, let me accept my fate and be quiet. ”
    In the silence following her fervent plea, she heard the chapel door creak open. Then the dull thud as it closed.
    Startled, she tried to stand quickly despite her twisted and shortened leg, which had not healed