Betrayal by Fiona McIntosh Read Free Book Online Page A

itself on the opposite wall. Her knees banged painfully to the flagstones. She could not feel her cheek; it was instantly numb.
    ‘That would be your mother’s tune and I won’t hear it sung again in this house!’ he raged at her.
    Through her tears, she watched her father stagger back out of the cottage and disappear into the night. He would not be returning soon.
    She hated her life. The only shiny part of it was Torkyn Gynt. Being able to talk to him while theygrew up in different villages on either side of the river had been her only solace in a lonely, loveless existence.
    If only her mother had survived birthing the daughter she had barely lived long enough to hold close. Was that it? Did her father blame her for the loss of the woman he adored? Oh, how she needed her friend Tor now. She wept. Hours passed.
    Alyssa finally roused herself and made her way to the tiny room where she slept. She poured some water into the bowl from the jug on the rickety table. Although it was icy cold, she forced herself to put her face directly into it in an attempt to clear her mind.
    Using the flannel she cleaned herself thoroughly, rubbing pointedly around her neck where Tor had stolen a brief kiss and scrubbing her lips of his passion. Towelling herself dry, her grief hardened. She was very angry now. Something more than fear for the old man—more like respect—had burned in Tor’s eyes. Those large, mesmerising blue eyes. Alyssa shook her mind clear of his face.
    She pulled on some fresh clothes and went down the narrow stone stairs, hating her house and terrified her father might return. She poured a draught of water to steady herself, but it was no surprise that the pitcher slipped from her trembling grip and smashed on the flagstones when a figure appeared in the doorway. Alyssa tasted blood. She must have bitten her lip.
    ‘Dear me,’ a voice said kindly as its owner made a tentative entrance, pulling off a bonnet and shawl.
    ‘I’m sorry…I thought you were…’ Alyssa didn’t finish. ‘Who are you?’
    ‘Oh, I was just passing, wondered if the family here might let an old lady rest in their barn for a short while.’
    Alyssa hardly listened. She sank to the floor, her skirts soaking up the spilt water, the tears of relief and frustration rolling freely.
    ‘Oh, my girl. Here, you must not cry. ’Tis only water and that old earthenware jug can be replaced easily enough.’
    The woman, old but surprisingly strong, firmly helped Alyssa up and, after seating her on a chair, set to cleaning up the mess. Alyssa watched distractedly. The old girl was no threat; if anything, the company was soothing.
    ‘You’re welcome to rest awhile here. There’s no one home but me.’
    The old girl nodded her thanks and began to hum quietly to herself. It was a lullaby and her voice was like a balm for Alyssa’s pain. She did not remember the herbal tea being made but soon enough firm fingers wrapped her own around a mug, its contents sweetened with honey. Now where had that come from? The thought passed as quickly out of Alyssa’s mind as it had arrived. She sipped contentedly in her silence, concentrating on nothing other than the pretty tune.
    At some stage candles were lit, shutters closed on the moonlight and she felt herself being guided back up the stairs again. She was gently undressed, her hairtied back loosely with a ribbon, and then she was laid oh so softly in her own bed. The covers were drawn up and she was tucked in in the same way her father used to do when she was little and he loved her. She thought she smiled at that distant memory but she couldn’t be sure.
    The lullaby continued softly on the fringes of her mind. Her lids were heavy and sleep beckoned seductively. She slept dreamlessly and all the while the old girl sat quietly beside her bed, wrapped in a faded and well-used shawl, murmuring the same gentle lullaby tirelessly.
    Alyssa woke refreshed. The anxiety had not deserted her but a tantalising smell