The Heart Queen Read Online Free PDF Page A

black dresses had been hurriedly stitched together for the three little girls. She hated to see them in the dark clothes, for they looked sad and lost and uncertain.
    Thank God all the visitors would be gone soon.
    She went out to get some fresh air. The great hall smelled of stale ale and sweat and unwashed bodies. The lasses were back in their nurseries. One of her first acts would be to replace Molly.
    Mourners—or curiosity seekers—were still approaching. She watched one small group come in, and she bade them welcome then invited them in for food and drink. A lone rider followed them.
    She smiled automatically, then started. Memory prodded her. Her heart started to pound.
    It could not be.
    He was bareheaded, his hair dark as a raven’s wing even in the late afternoon sun. His seat was easy, his posture comfortable, his large but hard body familiar. It had been in her dreams often enough.
    She wanted to run inside. She didn’t want him to hear the rumors. She didn’t want him to see the paleness of her face, nor her too-thin body.
    He rode straight up to her and dismounted. A boy who had just taken the other horses into the stable for food and water appeared to take the reins.
    “I’ll do it,” he said in the deep rich voice Janet remembered so well.
    She curtsied. “Welcome to Lochaene, my lord.”
    “Countess,” he acknowledged, then softer, “Janet. Are you all right?”
    He was so big, so tall. Overwhelming. But it was the softness in his voice that disarmed her. For the first time in days, she felt tears gather behind her eyes.
    His hands remained at his side, and yet she felt a warmth she’d not felt since she left her father’s house.
    She looked up at him. “We did not expect you,” she said with what she hoped was a cold, detached voice.
    He hesitated, then said awkwardly, “I thought to pay my respects.”
    She wanted to turn away but she felt transfixed, as if rooted to the ground. She remembered the last time she’d seen him. He’d leaned over to kiss her, then promised to meet with her the next afternoon. He hadn’t.
    He looked travel-worn now. His hair fell over his forehead and his face had turned dark with bristles. His dark eyes were tired and his mouth looked as solemn as it ever did. It was difficult to think of him as cruel, but the end result of their meeting had been cruel. Cruel beyond bearing.
    She looked beyond him. To the left. To the right. Anywhere but into his eyes.
    “You are welcome,” she said. “Some guests are staying in the great hall. There is food and drink.” Hospitality demanded the words, but her heartbeat became irregular.
    “My thanks,” he said softly.
    Her fingers bunched into fists. She couldn’t find words, nor could she move. Why did he affect her this way after so many years?
    “I am sorry about your husband,” he said.
    Her gaze was drawn back up to his face. It was granite. But then it had always been hard to read. It had relaxed only when her fingers had touched it. Her body quaked at the memory. She’d been so bold then. So reckless. She didn’t think she would ever be reckless again.
    “I am a mother now,” she said. She had to say something to interrupt the intensity of his gaze.
    “I ha‘ heard.”
    “Then you must also have heard the rumors.”
    “Aye, I’ve heard some. But I do not put credence in them.”
    “Then you are among the few.”
    “Mayhap there are more than you believe.”
    She hesitated, finding words difficult. The chill had left her. She felt only heat. Heat from regret. Heat from embarrassment. Heat, God help her, from a desire that apparently had not dimmed over the years.
    And on the day of her husband’s funeral. She was damned for sure.
    Suddenly blinded by the first tears she’d shed since her father died, she whirled around. She did not care if he noticed, nor if he thought her rude. She just had to get away.
    She went inside, past the hall where she could hear the ongoing revelry, up the stone staircase