Angel of the Knight by Diana Hall Read Free Book Online

friend or foe.”
    “Friend. Believe me, only a friend would put up with your attitude.” Ozbern shared a laugh with his leader. “Now, we need a strategy to expedite you from marriage to the lady Wren.”
    Falke rubbed his face with his hand and racked hismind for a plan, any plan. Afternoon heat beat down on the wide expanse of his back and he felt like the weight of the huge celestial body rested on his shoulders. Aunt Celestine was adamant about him upholding the contract.
    Six years as a mercenary for King Henry had left him and his men bone weary. Falke desperately wanted a place to call his own. But he wasn’t ready to forfeit his freedom to gain his dream. Somehow he had to find an acceptable way to halt or at least postpone his wedding.
    “Of course!” He slapped his friend on the back. “I can’t believe how simple the solution is.”
    “What have you devised now, my crafty friend?” Ozbern nearly staggered from the blow.
    Falke hummed under his breath. “I just need to approach my aunt in the proper contrite mood and I will buy myself at least a year.”
    “How?”
    “I believe ’tis customary for a period of mourning to pass in honor of the death of a loved one. Also, after today’s shocking revelations about my betrothed, I think ’twould be perfectly understandable for Aunt Celestine to retire to a nearby convent for her mourning. A place of quiet and serene surroundings where my poor aunt can collect her thoughts. And we could have no wedding without her.”
    A wry smile came to Ozbern lips. “And with your gift for glib talk, you’re bound to pull it off. ’Twill buy you a year, but what of Laron? He’ll have a year to forge a wedge between you and your vassals.”
    “And I’ll have a year to gain their faith.” Falke began to hum a lively peasant song under his breath.
    “You’re that confident your plan will work?”
    “Don’t they always?” With a jaunty skip, Falke resumed his stroll and hummed louder. He even gave each surly guardsman he passed a wide grin. This plan would work. His plans always worked.
    The great hall echoed with the voices of knights and ladies ready to begin the evening meal. Falke scanned the room from his seat at the high table, beaming with self-pride. After hours of cajoling, sympathizing and nodding serenely, Falke had convinced his aunt that she had conceived the idea to enter the convent. Even now, a group of Falke’s own men were escorting her to an abbey. All that remained was to inform the assembled nobles of the delay.
    As if drawing up battle lines, the nobility had separated into two sides. Men and women of Mistedge crowded together on the tables to his right. On his left, with ample room to spare, sat the Cravenmoor contingent, minus his betrothed and her servants.
    “My cup is empty,” Titus bellowed. Jumping into action, a page rushed to pour scarlet wine into the knight’s cup.
    “Give me that.” Titus yanked the jug from the boy’s grip and gave the page a backhanded slap.
    “That will be enough.” Falke spoke in a low tone but made sure his voice carried the length of theCravenmoor table. “My people will not be manhandled.”
    The room’s din quieted to a churchlike silence. Titus patted his bloated stomach and belched. “You ain’t the real lord till you marry my niece.”
    “The man has a point. Just when will the ceremony take place?” Laron asked from his seat next to Ivette. His lips tilted in a smug smile, a caricature of Falke’s own cavalier expression. “After the wedding, the vassals of Lord Merin will swear their allegiance to the new lord of Mistedge. And not a moment before.”
    Mistedge knights turned frosty glares to the high table. An angry mutter of agreement spread from man to man.
    “And a wedding will take place.” Falke spoke to stamp out the resentment Laron’s comments had rekindled. “But, as you all saw today, my aunt is in need of rest. Today’s incident has strained Lady Celestine.