Rexanne Becnel Read Online Free PDF Page B

servant, Thomas, had poured out two tankards of ale and then backed away that he spoke.
    “Your messenger said your business with me was urgent. I must confess, Colchester, that your presence here surprises me.”
    “And I will allow that I am equally surprised that you granted me safe passage.”
    Lord Barton took a swallow of ale as he studied the stern young man before him. A fine warrior before leaving to join Prince Edward, Corbett of Colchester was clearly a well-seasoned veteran of Edward’s campaigns. The handsome face of his youth was no more, for no boyish quality remained. A long, puckered scar slanted across his brow and gave him a fierce expression.
    He looked fit and strong, broader than before, but without an inkling of excess flesh. For the second time that week Lord Barton regretted that the young man’s match with Lilliane could not be. What magnificent grandchildren they would have given him.
    “I offered you safe passage only because I find myself puzzled. Colchester and Orrick remain bitter enemies. Or did your brother, Hughe, not remind you of that fact?”
    “It does not take Hughe to remind me of the murder of my father.”
    It was said quietly. And yet Lord Barton felt a twinge of fear as he met the other man’s unwavering stare. He had no doubt that Sir Corbett could easily best him. With the long Damascene steel blade that hung from his belt, the younger man could easily disembowel him before a single guard could be raised.
    Still, Lord Barton had faced death many times, and while he sensed Sir Corbett’s animosity, he did not detect any immediate threat.
    “I stand by my vow of innocence on that score as staunchly as ever I did,” he declared as he lowered his tankard to the oak table. “But surely you’ve not come here to discuss the past. State your business.”
    Sir Corbett’s eyes narrowed and their clear gray seemed to darken almost to black. But he kept whatever emotions he felt well contained from the old lord’s scrutiny.
    “On that count you err, Lord Barton. It is indeed unfinished business from the past that brings me here.”
    “Then state it quickly and be gone from here. I’ve a vast assemblage gathered, come to celebrate my daughter’s marriage.”
    “Her marriage?” In an instant Corbett came out of his seat. His face was creased in anger as he leaned over the table and glowered at Lord Barton. “The contract still stands. No one from Colchester consented to break the agreement. You cannot illegally wed her to another!”
    Lord Barton was taken aback by Sir Corbett’s violent reaction to his words, but a canny light quickly crept into his faded blue eyes. “’Tis Tullia I speak of. And she’s no contract save with Sir Santon of Gaston. Perhaps in the long years that have passed you’ve forgotten which of my daughters it was you were betrothed to. ’Twas Lilliane you were to wed. Lilliane, my eldest.” He picked up his tankard and quaffed the last of his ale.
    “Lilliane.” Corbett repeated the name as he slowly returned to his seat. The anger had disappeared from his face. “Yes, I remember her. A puny child with eyes overlarge for her little face.” At the stormy look he received from the older man he smiled slightly. “I’ve heard that she yet remains the maiden while her younger sisters marry. Perhaps that is why. But puny or no, I’ve come to exercise my betrothal rights.”
    Lord Barton did not answer right away. He was torn between fury at this impudent upstart and thankfulness that the match he’d always wanted would finally be made. But it would not do to reveal any eagerness, he realized. When he did speak he called first for more ale. Thomas silently refilled first his master’s tankard, then the young lord’s.
    “So you wish to wed Lilliane. Why should I allow it? The house of Colchester has waged war on us for five long years. Jarvis, my beloved nephew who was more a son to me, fell to Colchester steel—”
    “As my father fell to