Forbidden by Jo Beverley Read Free Book Online

that would surely give Mr. Post palpitations, so low was it in the magnificent bosom. Francis had to drag his eyes away.
    Serena Allbright did not seem aware of the effect of her appearance and was intent on stripping off her leather gloves.
    Francis's attention was caught again. She was wearing a handsome wedding band and a large emerald.
    She was married? Some man owned this magnificent creature and let her wander around loose?
    "Sarah," snapped Mr. Post to the huddle of women near a table. "Give Mrs. Haile your shawl. She'll be chilled."
    A thin girl scurried forward to give up her black knitted shawl. Francis could swear that he saw Serena's lips twitch as she arranged it. She smiled sweetly at their host. "Thank you, Mr. Post. How kind you are."
    Jeremy Post glared at her, jaws clenched on his long clay pipe. Francis knew he was wishing this whore of Babylon had never entered his domain. Francis was feeling a bit that way himself.
    They took their seats and Francis said, "I thank you, too, for your hospitality, Mr. Post. It's fierce out there." The wind was howling, windows were rattling, and occasional crashes told of further damage.
    "God's hand upon the sinners in the land," the man muttered. "Where be ye from, then?"
    "I have property near Andover." This was entirely true. Thorpe Priory was situated there.
    "Handsome properly, I have no doubt," sneered their host. "' Labor not to be rich: cease from thine own wisdom.'"
    Francis raised his brows. "Sounds like an instruction to idleness, sir. ' Strong men retain riches'?" he offered as a counter proposal.
    Mr. Post glared in confusion, but Francis heard a smothered sound. He didn't look, but he suspected that his "wife" was trying not to laugh. She was going to set him off; if they weren't both careful, they'd be out on their ears.
    But he couldn't abide religious extremists of this type.
    "'A naughty person, a wicked man, walketh with a forward mouth,'" avowed the patriarch. "We don't hold with ungodliness in this house, Mr. Haile."
    "I don't hold with ungodliness anywhere," said Francis amiably, though it was an effort to be pleasant.
    He was seriously considering his options. The briefest thought assured him that they had little choice but to maintain their deception and stay the night in this most unpleasant household.
    He looked around.
    There was a degree of prosperity about the place—in the quality of the plain furniture and pots, and the hams and other supplies hanging from the beams. There was also an air of austerity. The clothes were drab, and the only decorations in the room—if such they could be called—were the biblical quotations.
    Over to one side he saw a daunting message burnt into wood. "Thou shalt beat him with the rod, and shalt deliver his soul from hell." Beneath, on a ledge, was a rod, ready.
    How many were subject to this tyrant?
    There were four women busy preparing the meal, presumably Mrs. Post and three daughters. A young lad turned a spit by the fire and an ancient woman snoozed in a rocker. There were also the two young men who were out tending the horses. Shem and Ham. What were the odds the spit-turner was Japheth?
    Despite his distaste for the environment, the thought of Jeremy Post as Noah, and the farmhouse as a bleak Ark in the midst of the storm, twitched Francis's sense of humor, but he brought it to order. Clearly, laughter was not considered "godly."
    "Don't hold with strangers, I don't." Post's harsh voice dragged Francis out of his musings.
    "Pity," he said, stretching his boots out toward the fire.
    Post frowned in his thwarted way. "Don't hold with gentry-types, either. 'Better is little with the fear of the Lord, than great treasure and trouble therewith. ' You touch one of my girls and I'll not be answerable."
    Francis shuddered at the thought of touching one of the Post girls. "I have my wife with me, Mr. Post."
    "Aye," the man grunted with a blistering look at Serena.
    A banging door announced the return of Shem and